Christmas carols

It was a typical Saturday morning, if there is anything typical about spending the morning with grandchildren. The boys helped Poppa cook breakfast, disturbed the slumber of two dozen rolly-pollys (who thought that they were safe wintering in the border around my flower bed) and then they assisted me with making beds. They make beds the way I attempt life by climbing right into the middle of it. That’s a story for another day.

The younger of the two loves to see how things work. It was not unusual for him to be drawn to a small music box sitting in the windowsill. In his usual un-methodical manner, he began twisting the fragile stem to make the music begin. Thinking that I was rescuing the music box from him so that one day, I would one day be able to “leave” it to him brought a chuckle. Would these energetic promises that shared our last name remember this morning? Would the thought of Saturday mornings at Nana-Pop’s house bring a chuckle to their hearts 20 years from now?

While they listened to a Reader’s Digest version of the box’s history, I gently wound and released the key. As expected the clearest tinned melody began spilling out of the tiny box. The song was clear and familiar to me. The two angels crowded closer to me than space permitted, listening intently. “That is a beautiful song” commented the eight year old. His four year old brother agreed wholeheartedly telling me to make it play again. In the midst of placing our order for a replay of that lovely Christmas hymn—I asked the boys to tell me the name of the tune. Neither of them knew. How had this happened?

Fast forward to Sunday Morning; waiting for Bible Study to begin, a friend shares with the teacher how she feels lead to purchase Bibles for her nieces explaining their “sad” circumstances, “they don’t even recognize the Christmas Carols.” Anytime there is a common theme, especially if that theme seems a little out of place, I know that it is a “board out of Heaven with a message written on it” moment and I have learned to pay close attention.

Monday, heading home, I flipped on the radio and was not surprised to hear a regularly scheduled radio host. What was surprising was his topic. The Garlow Perspective was discussing, of all thing, Christmas Carols. A radio show, on the 9th day of February, talking about Christmas Carols; does that seem a bit odd to you?

I am not sure what all of this means. Honestly, regrettably, I have not taken the time to get before the Lord and ask. My time with Him has been primarily requesting wisdom for handling other situations that screamed loudly and demanded immediate attention.

Three days, one apparently misplaced theme, two precious grandchildren who may not always be so attentive to what I have to say and a newly acquired interest in Christmas songs has me thinking. You know, in ten years, it will not matter if every item on my “to do” list from this past week was crossed off. However, I believe with all my being that Heaven has a word for me neatly woven into the melody of a familiar Christmas Carol. That message has eternal value.

Needless to say, I am listening—I will be seeking God’s heart on this topic. I will be researching the history of Silent Night and my grandchildren will hear Joy To The World playing at Nana’s in the Spring.