Sunday, December 23, 2012

Another Child At Church . . .

http://youtu.be/5wRsW9Bw8P0


This morning at Church a sweet baby girl named Lexi (Alexis) was baptized. Her Grandmother just happens to sit next to me in the second soprano section of the Adult Choir. 

I knew she was going to sing a solo today, but when I saw her folder, I had to ask about it. You see, it was an old folder with yellowed pages. 

She told me her grandfather was the first one to sing it after Robert McGimsey composed it. 

It seems that Robert McGimsey was walking home from a midnight church service in New York City in 1932. He heard raucous noise coming from various bars as he made his way back to his small apartment. He was inspired to write this hymn or, because it is appropriate to Christmas, carol. 

My friend's granddaughter was so sweet in her beautiful white gown and she did not even make a sound when our minister took her and walked down and back up the church aisle. 

Her brother, who I think is a little more than three was on his best behavior too as his grandfather flashed away to capture such a precious moment. 

From where I sit up in the choir loft, I couldn't see "Lexi's" parents very well but I know it was a proud moment for them. 

(My friend has been attending our church since she was a little girl and knows all the people and all the tasks there are in a church. Best of all, this year, she cooked several turkeys to go out to shut-ins tomorrow morning.)

Again today, the focus of Christmas was on little children and what a blessing they are to us all, especially at Christmas. 

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Silent Night; Holy Night . . .

"Whatcha Doing?" by d_wooden
"Whatcha Doing?", a photo by d_wooden on Flickr.
Last year about this time, I posted a blog, about this same subject of looking out into the Church Congregation and seeing children singing along with the carols. In light of how close it is to Christmas and also the terrible tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, it is time to talk about little children again. 

Same carol as last year, about the same spot in church. Up in the Choir Loft, I can see these little children singing along. They all know Silent Night. They put their young elbows up on the pew - just like this girl has hers - and they sing right along. They all know the words to Silent Night. 

For 20 children, it was a very silent night and they met the man they have all learned about in Sunday School. If you believe, and so many of us do, all these children met Jesus last Friday. 

Suffer the little children to come unto me. . . 

Jesus loves the little children . . . 

One family went into see their little girl in her white casket and they took many colors of Sharpie pens with them. They drew colorful objects on that casket . . . butterflies and balloons and things their little girl liked.

Another family ordered many birds fashioned as brooches for people to wear at the funeral for their child who loved birds. 

I remember only too well the tiny white casket and I still think how awful it was not just for her father and me when Carrie Jane died, but for all our friends who came to be with us at her funeral. 

There is nothing so somber, so sad, so unfair, so bad . . . as losing a child. 

I lost a boy, Robbie at three and a half weeks and a girl, Carrie Jane, at six months. Both were born micro-cephalic which means their brains stopped developing at about three months into the pregnancy.

I recall the minister saying, "We do not know if she suffered." 

"Suffer" has two meanings at least. Last week's children probably did not feel pain because it likely was very quick. But perhaps they felt fear and panic.

The other suffer we know is when Jesus said one of the first things a child learns in Sunday School:

"Suffer the little children to come unto me." That takes the meaning of "allow" or "let". 

Little children are innocent and sweet. There is no pain like the death of a child. 

I still feel that pain today; it has never gone away. I feel the pain of all those parents in that community. 

God be with all the parents, grandparents, siblings and all the people who try to comfort each other. 

Lord, thank you for letting me, a humble soprano, look out each year to see beautiful children singing along with our so special Christmas carols. And, Lord, please take care of not just my children but all the children taken so young. 

Lord, please be with all the parents - all those left behind. 

And Lord . . . I know after all those years that there is no answer to the question, "Why?"