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Messiah Sing-Along

Messiah Sing-Along

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Tonight we gather again, the wavering sopranos, the alto who has a little sinus drainage and is wondering if she can hit the high notes, the tenor who hasn’t sung in public since high school, the baritone who does this every year and secretly wishes he could have a solo.

Tonight we gather to sing Handel’s great masterpiece, a most forgiving work, full of runs and other acrobatics but at heart a piece for the people— an egalitarian oratorio that welcomes all pilgrims.

I’m making educated guesses on the other singers, but I can vouch for this alto. I’ll take out my score tonight with joy and trepidation. “And He Shall Purify” is not for the faint of heart. Nor is the “Hallelujah Chorus” with its pause right before the end, a trap that has embarrassed more than one singer.  In fact, challenges lurk in every recitative, aria and chorus of this piece.

But I can also predict the joy and gladness that will flood our hearts at the finish — that we, a group of strangers at 7 p.m. will by 8:30 have sung a great masterwork together. Yes, there will be botched runs and missed entrances. But the “hallelujahs” will ring out loud and clear.

(No, we were not singing in National Cathedral … I wish!) 

Gaudete!

Gaudete!

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Yesterday was the Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday, with rose-colored vestments and the theme of … rejoice!

And rejoice I shall, starting with today, the birthday not only of Beethoven but also of our own sweet doggie, Copper.  To celebrate the former, I drove to Metro (through sleet and freezing rain) to the sounds of the lovely Archduke Trio, which made the drive almost bearable.

To celebrate the latter, we had a celebration over the weekend, complete with steak and cake. We sang a song and lit a candle and played with the little guy, who had somehow found the squeak toy I bought him and pulled it out of a shopping bag. Can he be smarter than we think? You never know…

Gaudete and happy birthday, birthday boys!

Ugly Sweaters?

Ugly Sweaters?

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For our office party today we’ve been told to wear our Christmas sweaters, “the tackier the better.”  I’m wearing mine, but I doubt it will win the prize — and I hope it doesn’t.

My Christmas sweater was a gift, and it was given with love, so I don’t want it to be skewered. But more to the point, I’m against ugly sweater contests in general because — strange as it sounds — I feel sorry for the sweaters.

I’ve been trying to figure out why that is. Could it be the way I sentimentalize clothing, a habit that has filled my closet with items that would be better off at Goodwill? Or could it be deeper than that?

Christmas sweaters, like Jello salad and green bean casserole, speak of an earlier, less ironic era. Could it be that in satirizing sweaters with appliqués and rick-rack we’re announcing that we’re beyond such froufrou — even though we’re following the fashion of our era just as rigidly. (Will we someday have ripped jean contests — the more ripped the better?)

Seems to me that with all there is to celebrate at the holidays, choosing to belittle something (even something that’s asking for it) is a poor use of our time.  I know, I know. Lighten up — it’s just a sweater. But maybe … it’s more.


(This is not my sweater. It’s from an invitation to an ugly sweater contest.)

Light the Lights

Light the Lights

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Every year the lights matter more. Every year I wait for them, for certain houses that I know will pull out all the stops. With them we shake our tiny fists at the darkness. With them, we remind ourselves that spring will come again.

One house I pass on the way to Metro drips with soft white icicle lights. The bevy of bulbs transform this simple two-story into a fairy cottage.  It’s the slant of the roof and the way the house is tucked into the trees that does it. I could imagine Hansel and Gretel wandering up, expecting it to be made of gingerbread and marzipan. How kind of the occupants to leave the lights on till morning so we early commuters can be enchanted too.

I wonder if people know how much their efforts gladden the souls of passers-by. In that way lights are a visual reminder of how kindness spreads — from one harried heart to another.

Winter Lite

Winter Lite

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There are winter days when birds chatter in the hedges and what sun there is feels warm on the face. Holly berries gleam, set off by the occasional flash of scarlet from a cardinal.

I think of these days as “winter lite.” There is still a texture to them. They don’t yet have the scoured look and acrid smell of January cold. Yesterday was one of these days: it started cold but finished bright and sunny. Downy woodpeckers discovered the suet block and chickadees chittered at the feeder.

We bought our Christmas tree at a lovely church lot, rather than driving an hour west of here to cut it down. It was a welcome change — carols rang out over the parking lot and eager Boy Scouts put the tree on top of our car.

Winter lite: I’ll take it.

Appreciating Advent

Appreciating Advent

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It’s the first day of December and the first Sunday of Advent, and I’ve been trying to remember the last time we had such a tidy confluence. With Christmas on a Wednesday, that means each Advent Sunday will have its due, too.

I love Advent — the medieval-sounding hymns, the plain purple vestments, the wreaths and calendars, the air of joyful expectation.  Advent is about preparation, and I love that, too, because it reminds me that there are things worth waiting for and they are all the sweeter once they arrive.

Advent is often lost in the shuffle, folded into the Christmas season, but it has much to offer on its own. It reminds us to plan and anticipate, to watch and wonder, to read and reflect — and to do all of that secure in the knowledge that what we search for we will find, what we long for will be given to us.

Hair of the Dog

Hair of the Dog

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A grocery store is a funny place to find one’s self on the day after Thanksgiving. There was a hair-of-the-dog quality to it.

On the other hand, it was a very good time to be food shopping. I had the place almost to myself.

I bought more eggs and bread and dinner fixings for tomorrow night (tonight will be leftovers) and some for the week to come. I avoided the Thanksgiving-themed napkins that were 75 percent off. Yes, they’re a good deal, but I won’t be able to find them next year.

In that way, emboldened, I enter the holiday shopping season.

(Alas, I did not shop at a picturesque farmer’s market this morning.)

Giving Thanks

Giving Thanks

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This morning I woke to find two of our three daughters sleeping in the house. They’d returned from the grand adventure of seeing “Hamilton” in Richmond and had driven back here in the wee hours. I wasn’t expecting them till later, so seeing the car in the driveway and finding the two of them asleep in separate corners of the house was the perfect start to a day of giving thanks.

I’ve read that if we forget all other prayers but remember this simple one — “Thank you, Lord” — ours will be a rich prayer life.

It’s so easy (for me, at least) to get caught up in the web of daily cares and to-dos that gratitude, which should be the ballast upon which the rest of life rests, is overlooked. But how hard can it be to say or think “Thank you, Lord” or  “Thank you, ____ [insert Divine Being of your choice]”?

Not hard at all, it would seem. In fact, imminently do-able. So on this bright, windy morning, I remind myself not only to give thanks today, but to give thanks always and everyday for all I have been given.

On Veteran’s Day

On Veteran’s Day

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It’s impossible not to think of my favorite veteran on Veteran’s Day, so Dad will be much on my mind today. And, because it is a federal holiday, I’ll be able to drive into the office and back, creating a more “flow” commute than usual. Beyond these realities, what’s on my mind this Veteran’s Day is that this dear country, which so many have fought and died for, needs us in ways it never has before.

When my son-in-law took the oath of citizenship last August, he pledged to support and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Those of us lucky enough to be born here never take such an oath, unless we serve in the military or other public service. But I think many of us would go to great lengths to make this nation a less divisive place.

So what can we do? Maybe something that’s not very complicated. Something that doesn’t require signing up or shipping out. Something like this: that we try every day to understand those on the other side of the political divide.

Dino Walked into a Bar

Dino Walked into a Bar

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The Halloween’ness of yesterday was eclipsed by the World Series win of yesterday … until later in the day, when my office held a party complete with fog machine. There were three folks from one team who collectively dressed as “working remotely” — wearing  robes, slippers and headphones and carrying big bags of chips to munch. They won first prize in the costume competition.

There was a dinosaur, a scarecrow, an Elvis impersonator, a Minnie Mouse and someone dressed as regenerative soil. (After all, I work for a nonprofit development organization with a robust agricultural unit.)

And then there was my fave, because we hatched the plot together, a woman who dressed as the Winrock “mouse” with gray ears and tail … stuck in a sticky trap. The only hitch: this poor woman found just such a creature in her cubicle the very same day.

That’s a little too Halloween for me!