Some things never get old

This is number 50 in my weekly series of posts and I haven't missed one yet.  And I enjoy writing them.  This is one of the things that never get old.  Something else that never gets old is Christmas Eve.

I bet I haven't missed more than a couple Christmas Eve services in the past 28 ++ years.  And I can only remember two services that I know of for certain.  One of them, everyone missed because the weather was so bad (think Kansas City -about six years ago) all the churches cancelled services for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

From the best Book written

I am not one that is interested in reading a book more than once (there are exceptions) and I am not a fan of repeat viewing of movies either (I already know how they end), however, I never tire of hearing the same scriptures read, the songs we sing and the familiarity of the service that is repeated every Christmas Eve.  This isn't so much a repetition to me as it is the reminder of a promise.

The first Christmas program I remember attending (and participating in) was when I was in sixth grade.  I actually memorized the scripture Luke 2:8-20 and was chosen to recite it for the congregation.  My gift was my first Bible. Attendance was sporadic throughout childhood and even early adulthood but in 1983, I attended St. John's Lutheran Church and knew I had found my home.

This evening, I loved scanning the crowd and seeing the earnest looks on the congregants faces as they joined in the familiar carols.  I particularly love hearing my husband sing the songs he has known all his life.  The choir was amazing and the instruments lent a special blend to the arrangements that brought the music to life. I followed along with scripture as it was read and reflected how it must have been.

Prior to "the incident"

Memories of other services always make there way back and I never fail to remember the infamous 2002 Christmas Eve service when Madison (age 5) had on an adorable red, furry sweater that swiftly went up in flames along with part of her hair during the candlelight portion of the service.  Big brother Tyler grabbed her and carried her out, slapping the fire out as they went.  We boycotted candles for years as did the poor older ladies that sat behind us.  Some services leave a mark....literally.

Although it has been 28 years, I still can't make it past the second verse of "Away in a Manager" before I begin to weep.  My little son Zachary died 10 days before Christmas in 1986 and this song was played at his funeral.  Melodies are powerful triggers.....

But tonight when we were gathered at the altar with all the saints who have gone before for us to take holy communion, I was reminded of what Pastor said at the beginning of the homily,,,"Welcome home, brothers and sisters, welcome home".

May God bless you and keep you,  Merry Christmas!

Until next time,
#inHisname

your pal,
Kari