Music has always been something I enjoy. My father had me start piano lessons at the age of seven, and I grew up listening to a variety of music styles. Like many people, I’m sure, certain songs remind me of different people and times in my life. For instance, when I hear a Sam Hunt song, I think back on a fun weekend spent with my friend Allie when she drove out to visit my sister and I in Pennsylvania when we were in graduate school. When I hear Ventura Highway by America, I think of family trips out to San Diego. And when I hear Merry Christmas With Love by Clay Aiken, I think of my church family.
Call me crazy, but I listen to Christmas music intermittently throughout the year because I love it so much. Once that slight hint of crisp fall air hits on a summer morning, I immediately begin to long for shorter, cool days filled with leggings, long cozy cardigans, pumpkins, and Christmas music. That hint of crisp fall air hit a few weeks ago and I’ve been listening to Christmas music ever since. One of those songs is Merry Christmas With Love by Clay Aiken. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. The excitement begins to build at the beginning of October when the choir begins learning that year’s cantata. And before you know it, Thanksgiving has come and gone and dad has sent out the email asking for volunteers to participate in the Christmas Eve service.
That excitement died at the beginning of December 2018. Not only was I upset at losing my father, but I was upset at the timing. Why did it need to be at my favorite time of year? We canceled the annual cantata. No one was up for it. And the Christmas Eve service, while beautiful, was a difficult night for all. Christmas morning came. I had been dreading it. I had bought his gifts months ago and had been hiding them in my bedroom. I was so proud of myself. I hadn’t spent much like he wanted and I had paid attention throughout the year to what he wanted since he was hard to buy gifts for. The head of our deacons had shown him a book he owned that summer. It was a small, leather bound edition of Spurgeon’s Faith’s Checkbook. Dad loved Faith’s Checkbook and had a special appreciation for leather bound books. So I hopped onto amazon and ordered the book. He and I shared a love for Psalm 91 so I had found a framed calligraphy copy of it on amazon that he could hang in his office at church. I knew he’d love these and I was so excited to watch him open them up Christmas morning. But he never did.
I dreaded the coming of that morning. But it doesn’t matter how much you wish for a day not to arrive. Time continues to move forward. And so Christmas morning came. And I was sad. My friend, Carrie, had said she had a special gift for us that she’d bring over around midmorning. I looked forward to it. A pleasant distraction from the sadness of the day. The time for her arrival came but there was no knock at the door. And then I heard it. Someone was singing. Never mind, someones were singing. My church family. That was the gift. They had all snuck into the neighborhood and gathered in the front yard to spread some Christmas cheer. And when I hear Clay Aiken’s song, that’s what I think of. A time of darkness when God used His people to shine His light into my life. I will be forever grateful.
//And just as a tear made it's way to the floor
She heard voices outside start to sing.
Merry Christmas to all who may dwell here.
Merry Christmas if even just one.
May the joy of the season surround you.
Merry Christmas with love.
Carolers sang as she opened the door
Faces of friends in the crowd
And all of the shadows of lonely reminders
Driven away by the sound.// ❤️