Hark the herald angels sing

Anders arrived last night and so the
full cotillion of precious progeny are now gathered. Now it will be fine if some picturesque snow begins to fall. I haven't had a white christmas in some 20 years. Sitting here with the dogs, waiting for snow to perfect the picture, the christmas tree is lit with beautifully wrapped gifts underneathe. The family is all still sleeping and I am alone with my thoughts.

I tried to remember my favorite christmas as a child, or my favorite gift. I could not immediately remember a single favorite. All I remember is a glow of anticipation, happiness, love, and excitement. The specific gifts or trees or whether it snowed or not all blur in my recollections. But I do remember feeling loved, and loving even my older sister who I usually tried to scratch the skin off of every other day of the year.

So the dogs and I are gathered in the stillness of the morning before the lit tree, watching the mist of hope and what could be rise gently.

Once, when I was a young woman, I was riding my bike down a long steep hill. The wind was rushing and swirling around me and if I turned my head just slightly, I could hear angels singing. I experimented various permuations of chin lift and head turn angle to see if the angels sang no matter what, but they did not. It was only if my head was turned at just the right angle that my ear would catch the angel's song.

Sitting here with my dogs, waiting for snow with my beloved family harmoniously snoring, if I cock my head at just the right angle, catching a glimpse of the little baby in my little creche, I hear the angels sing.

Psalm 104:33
I will sing to the lord all my life, I will sing praises to my God as long as I live.

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