… and the gift is delivered from on high

There’s one every Christmas season. Happens without fail. I don’t go looking for it. It comes to me.

This year, amid generous stress that’s taking a toll, particularly on health, and a general feeling of being overwhelmed by much, I wondered whether it was gonna happen.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe it can’t.

But it did happen.

It happened about 20 minutes ago.

The song of the season. Courtesy of Pandora.

Every year, there’s one carol that plays on the radio that just deeply resonates. Sings to me like no other to that particular time, space and place of my life, internal and external.

It’s one carol that no matter how often I hear it in that particular season, I won’t tire of it or switch the station.

Quite the contrary! It’ll bring me to extraordinary pause — nee, complete stillness. It’ll cause me to weep. Every time.

Even if I’m driving. I’ll remain responsible, alert and attentive to the road and all on it even as the floodgates of emotion are opened and tears roll down my cheeks like streams of melted snow. I sop ’em up with napkins and stay responsible on the road even though inside I’m a total puddle.

Truth told, keeping a record of each song, its year and where my life was at would be remarkably revealing.

There’s always just one line or two in the carol that grabs my attention … that reverberates, shining like the North Star, bright like no other star, guiding me in my etheric journey.

One year, the carol that resonated like no other was “Little Drummer Boy” and with it a particular lyric that radiated like that star. That’s a longtime favorite anyhow. Granted, some renditions are far better and more moving than others. Still, I never tire of it.

That year, I couldn’t get enough! I was like a starved child aching for a slice of bread.

Another year it was “Oh Holy Night.” Again, the song in general and one line in particular. It brought me to my knees. It made me weep every time. And the single lyric that struck the deepest chord is one I remember to this day. It became woven into my being.

Bet I listened to that 100 times that season! Cranking up the volume in the Subaru where I’ve listened to vast carolings on the radio or library CDs indeed.

This year … well, I’ve just discovered this season’s song:

“Oh Come Ol’ Ye Faithful.”

Like I wrote, I never know year to year what it’s gonna be. It just happens. Like being touched by an angel’s wing. Not to sound hokey or corny or Hallmark-y. That’s the closest description I can offer.

So there I was, newly risen for the day and still in my PJ’s at noon. {Hey, I’m a nocturnal creature so cut me some slack! 🙂 } Past my second mug of coffee. Toodling about in the kitchen, laptopping, Pandora’s “Mormon Tabernacle Holiday” station playing in the background.

{Don’t get me started on the Mormon Tabernacle choir! That’s deserving of its own post, anon.}

Boom! It happens.

About 1/3 into the song, activity ceases. Stillness drops like a curtain in an old-time movie theater. The theater lights switch off. The internal light switches on. I stand. Still. It’s just me and … the angel … delivering the message … for me .. in this time and space … in song.

Glorious awe-inspiring song.

I listened. I knew that was it.

“Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”

I didn’t recognize the singer’s voice — or name on Pandora’s screen. I bookmarked it and when the song was over, I resumed my activity.

Yes, the season’s carol is just that powerful.

It stops ALL the world’s noise.

And very very intense noise it is right now as seemingly the entire world’s stressed out, in a rush, sucking up the Christmas commercialism and consumerism through a straw like they’re oxygen themselves.

(They’re not; not for me anyway. Matter of fact, I stay as far from that as possible; however, it’s impossible for me NOT to feel and sponge it all in, everyone’s rush rush rush buy buy buy. Sad.)

“Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”

I feel an obligation to mention that I’m not a religious person. Far from it.

Neither am I a faithful person. Truth is, for me, the conventionally-understood “f word” is not of four letters, rather five: faith.

The Word and my greatest challenge in this lifetime.

And thus I have been tapped by the angel’s wing.

I know not who he or she is. I’ve not “met” or had an official introduction to this Being that I’m aware of.

Yet I know, with unexamined and unequivocal certainty of mind, body and spirit, that he/she/they exist. They gift me with a presence and a song each year.

Perhaps … just perhaps … that is faith … singing.



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