One hardly needs to say this, but kids get really excited about Christmas. Why am I saying something that hardly needs to be said? Probably because
1) I’m not a kid;
2) Christmas is indeed a wonderful time of year; and
3) somehow your “favorite things” change as you age.
(That reminds me, I never understood why the radio stations play “My Favorite Things” pretending it’s a Christmas carol. “Packages wrapped up with string” seems to be the only phrase I can find that might come close to making it fit. Really? With string? Oops! There went my brain again, doing its independent thing!)
Back to reality:
Of all the music of the season, my favorite is really from the season of Advent—not Christmas. I dearly love “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”. And, now that I think of it, I think I actually like Advent as much as I do Christmas. Not that I don’t find Christmas a tremendously important time of life, but just because the anticipation is so high with Advent. I especially love the lighting of the Advent Wreath each Sunday leading up to Christmas. I love the holiness, the reverence, the candlelight, and the hymn at the end.
Since the hymnal tells me it originated from the 12th century, I suppose it’s OK for me to print it here.
O come, o come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the son of god appear
Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel.
O come, thou rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny
From depths of hell thy people save
And give them victory o’er the grave
Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel.
O come, thou day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel.
O come, thou key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel.
O come, o come, thou lord of might,
Who to thy tribes, on Sinai’s height,
In ancient times did’st give the law,
In cloud, and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, o Israel.
Can’t you just feel the earnest anticipation and excitement and hunger for the appearance of our Lord and Savior in the words?
But since I know many people are eagerly awaiting Christmas day, especially those with small children, I feel the urge to share a parody written by P.R. Van Buskirk which plays upon the emotions so genuinely. I first heard it at College Church of the Nazarene and have enjoyed it a few times since. So here is my gift to those of you with small children. I hope it plays right to the fawning parents’ hearts.
‘Twas the Bike Before Christmas
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our house
Not a creature was sleeping, not even my spouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with screws.
(If you can’t find the nails, what else do you use?)
The children were restless, awake in their beds,
While visions of spanking them danced in our heads.
I worked in my bathrobe. My husband, in jeans,
Had gone down to the den with directions and dreams
To assemble a bike that came in small pieces
With deflated tires and fenders with creases.
Soon down in the den there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my task to see what was the matter.
Away to my husband I flew like a flash;
He was shuffling through cardboard; his actions were rash.
The bike on the rug by this now flustered Dad
Soon gave me a hint as to why he was mad.
He needed a kickstand. It had to be near.
I shuffled some papers—he saw it appear!
We twisted the screws; we were lively and quick,
And we soon knew assembly would be quite a trick.
Fast as eagles in flight the pieces were found,
And he whistled and shouted for parts all around:
“Now socket! Now pedal! Now tires! Now brakes!
On handles! On kickstand! On Horn!... oh… but wait!”
In the top of the toolbox, he fumbled around;
“I need two more screws!” he said with a frown.
And like all good parents determined to please
When they meet with an obstacle late Christmas Eve,
We shouted and yelled some complaints to each other.
There was never more frustrated father and mother!
And then, in a panic, we heard on the stairs
The prancing and hopping of feet…’bout two pairs!
I opened the door and was turning around,
When kids burst from the hall with a leap and a bound.
They were dressed all in flannel, from their necks to their knees,
And their nightgowns were soiled with sugar and cheese!
Excuses poured forth from each pair of lips;
They stood in defiance with hands on their hips.
Their eyes were wide open, and each little child
Jumped when I yelled with a voice hardly mild.
They were frightened but cute, though much bigger than elves,
And we laughed when we saw them, in spite of ourselves.
A wink of the eye and a pat on the head
Soon let them both know they had nothing to dread.
They saw not a thing but went straight to their beds,
And we finished the bike and put bows on the sleds.
Then wheeling the bike by the tree (out of sight),
My hubby announced we should call it a night.
He sprang to his bed, to the clock gave a whistle,
As the time had flown by like a large Titan missile.
But I heard him exclaim as he turned out the light,
“Merry Christmas, my dear, but next year NO BIKE!”