A trio of songs from Henry Mancini played, Silent Night/O Holy Night/O Little Town of Bethlehem. The beautiful instrumental music played, and then, the choir began to sing. My heart, overwhelmed with this year’s circumstances, triggered the tears, as they welled up and streamed down my cheeks.
They flowed, not only because of circumstances, but also because I love the Lord and Silent Night. My eyes focused on a choirboy statue on my hearth. I’ve had him for years but packed away. He was shiny gold. However, I’m not a shiny gold person. So, last year, I decided to paint him white. Now, I love him!
As I sat, motionless, listening to the choir sing O Holy Night, I noticed the choirboy’s uplifted arms. It was as if he were singing with them, his mouth shaped in a permanent O.
My heart was so pensive, the words just poured out…
Oh, Lord, if my hands could always be raised in thanksgiving to You. I do try. If my mouth could be in a permanent O of praise to You and never again utter a negative syllable. Yes, You know I try.
Such a prayer, Lord, is in my heart. May I always worship You as the King of kings, the Lord of lords, the Prince of Peace. May my uplifted arms always bring tears to my eyes, tears spilling over from a grateful heart, tears flowing from a heart filled with love for You, tears of sadness for a world that does not know You. And yet, tears of joy that I do know Your magnificent forgiveness and salvation. Amen!
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