Songs of Christmas (32 page)

She stood by Amanda’s bed and shook her shoulder. “Manda, Santa came. Wake up! We have to go open our presents.”

Amanda opened her eyes to see Betty’s adorable face glowing with excitement. She realized that even at the ripe old age of twenty-five, Christmas morning was still a thrill.

“Okay, Squirt, lead the way. I’m right behind you,” she promised her little sister in a sleepy voice.

Betty had already alerted the rest of the family, and Amanda joined them around the Christmas tree. Her father was giving out the gifts while her mother brought in a tray with coffee and croissants. Amanda managed to open most of her gifts and enjoy the Christmas morning family rituals before it was time for her to shower and dress for church. She had to get there before her family for a quick rehearsal with the choir.

“I hope we’ll be singing ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’ today,” her mother said just as she left the house. “You know it’s my favorite.”

“I’ve asked Reverend Ben to include it just for you, Mom,” Amanda replied as she flipped a bright new striped scarf around her neck, a gift from Jill.

“Thank you, dear. I’ll be singing it loud and clear.”

Amanda didn’t doubt that for a moment. Her mother had a very strong voice when she really liked a song. Amanda had thought of encouraging her to join the choir, then thought better of it. Molly would not be easy to manage.

Amanda soon found that the exciting feeling of Christmas Day was in the air at church as well. The sanctuary was decorated with rows and rows of red and white poinsettias, garlands of fresh pine branches, and glowing candles on the altar. It was a beautiful scene, made even lovelier by the stained-glass windows. Set back by the storm, Gabriel had not quite completed the job, but for the most part, the windows sparkled again with jewel-like colors, filtering the light of Christmas morning. Amanda knew she had to tell him what a wonderful job he had done. Her gaze was drawn to the Nativity scene, the window now whole again, showing the Christ child in the manger.

The beautifully crafted scene had a new meaning for her this morning. Just like the window, she, too, had been restored these last few weeks. Her innate sparkle and colors were shining through again.

Coming back home, she had somehow turned a page in her life; she had been renewed by this job and by living at home with her family again. It had not been a defeat after all, but a blessing to come back here. She once again believed that the world held infinite possibilities for her and knew it had been wrong to give in to despair. It was wrong to lose faith in herself . . . and in God’s plan for her.

Maybe that’s what Christmas was about in a way—the blessed Christ child, symbolic of the new start that was possible for everyone, at any moment, if you held fast to faith and believed it could be.

“Amanda, there you are. Merry Christmas!” Amanda turned to see Reverend Ben bustling toward her down the center aisle of the sanctuary. He was already dressed in his white cassock.

“Merry Christmas, Reverend Ben,” Amanda replied.

“I believe most of the choir is here already, donning their robes. Right on time, too,” he said, checking his watch.

“We’ll have a quick rehearsal,” Amanda replied. “But we worked very hard this week. I think everyone knows their parts.”

“I’m sure they do. It is Christmas. The music is so familiar, everyone just sits back and enjoys it.”

Amanda knew that was true. She felt surprisingly relaxed, as if nothing could go wrong, despite her considerable responsibility. It was one of the most important days in the church calendar, and definitely the most important musically. But she felt very sure in her heart that the service would go well and the choir would sound wonderful—as if some greater power were helping her.

The time for despair had passed. It was a bright new day, time to herald the newborn King.

Chapter Thirteen

T
HE CHOIR MARCHED INTO THE SANCTUARY AT A STATELY PACE,
singing “Joy to the World” with a solid, full sound. Reverend Ben followed, wearing his beautiful gold-and-white mantle, which was reserved for Christmas. Amanda accompanied on the organ, playing with all her might. It was a dramatic and uplifting start, she thought, and one of her very favorite hymns.

Their well-rehearsed voices rose clear and pure as the organ notes rippled and echoed.
“Joy to the world, the Lord is come! Let earth its praises bring.”

After the first verse, the basses and altos split from the sopranos and tenors, and the two groups sang the chorus in rounds.

“. . . 
and heaven and nature sing . . . and heaven and nature sing . . .

“. . . and heaven, and heaven and na–ture . . . sing!”

Amanda glanced at the choir members as they finished the carol with spirit, striking every note perfectly. Their eyes and faces were glowing. They had put their hearts and spirits into the carol, and she felt moved by their energy. She knew the congregation felt it, too.

Reverend Ben beamed as he stood before the altar and greeted the congregation. It was, predictably, a very full house today, with every seat occupied, and even a few rows of folding chairs at the back of the sanctuary.

“Merry Christmas, everyone, and welcome! Let us gather in prayer this glorious morning to celebrate the humble birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

“God of light, we thank You for giving us the gift of Jesus Christ. We come before You with wonder and delight that You come to us in the child born in a manger. Be with us on this day of birth and rebirth. Come, honor us with the presence of Your gracious, joyful Spirit. Fill our weary hearts with renewed hope and joy. Rekindle in our souls the light of Christ. Glory to You in the highest, O God, glory in the highest! Amen.”

A scripture reading from the Book of Hebrews followed Reverend Ben’s opening prayer. It was soon time to sing her mother’s favorite, “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Luckily, this was a hymn for everyone to sing. Amanda knew her mother would have sung it anyway, sitting out there in the second or third pew back from the front, beaming at her like a miniature Christmas tree.

Everyone rose with their hymnals as Amanda struck the opening chords on the piano, and the choir led the congregation along.

“O Come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant. Come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem . . . Come and behold Him, born the King of angels . . .”

Everyone sang with full voices and great spirit and if a few in the pews were off-key, or not quite in rhythm, they blended in perfectly as the great wave of voices rose higher and higher. It was all about the feeling of joy this morning, Amanda realized, not the technical excellence. And the feelings were strong and true, overflowing with the spirit of Christmas.

“O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him . . . Christ the Lord . . .”

It was soon time for the second reading, from the Gospel of John. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

Reverend Ben chose the many lights of Christmas as the theme for his sermon—lights on trees and decorations. The candles glowing in windows and up on the altar this morning. He recalled the star that guided the shepherds and wise men to the baby born in the manger.

“Each time we see these Christmas candles flickering, even these small votives,” he noted, pointing to the display that covered the altar, “we are reminded of God’s gift to us this day, His only son, and His steadfast presence in our lives. Every day of the year, let us always remember Christ is the light of the world, sent here to earth to guide our way.

“And let us all be deeply thankful for this gift today, of the Good News we have received. The Light of God shines in the World. Shout and sing with joy, and celebrate the hope and promise of this day.”

At the close of the service, the choir and congregation sang together again, this time “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.”

“Hark the herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn King! Peace on Earth and mercy mild. God and sinners reconciled . . .”

The carol was definitely another crowd-pleaser, and the entire church was bursting with joyful voices. Amanda knew that Charles Wesley, brother of the famous Methodist minister John Wesley, had written the lyrics, but the tune was based on a piece by Mendelssohn and sounded magnificent—even celestial—played on the organ.

“. . . 
Join the triumph of the skies . . . With the angelic host proclaim: ‘Christ is born in Bethlehem.’ Hark the herald angels sing . . . Glory to the newborn King . . .”

Reverend Ben stood at the back of the sanctuary now, his hand raised as he gave a final blessing for Christmas Day. “And now may the glory and love of God surround you. May the peace and grace of Christ dwell deep within you. May the power and presence of the Holy Spirit uphold you. Amen.”

Amanda played some peaceful incidental music after that as the congregation filed out of the sanctuary. When she finally rose from the organ, she felt a bit dazed, as if the last hour had passed in the blink of an eye. Still, she felt very good inside, her heart and spirit light.

“Great job, Amanda.”

“Well done.”

Members of the choir congratulated and thanked her as they stepped down from the risers. She thanked them all, too, downplaying her part. “You guys did all the heavy lifting. What are you thanking me for? You were all fantastic,” she said sincerely.

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Sophie insisted. “You’ve been a wonderful inspiration to us these last few weeks.”

“No question,” Claire agreed.

“Bravo.
Bravissimo!
” Frank Borge said as he fixed her with his dark gaze and clapped his hands, which started the rest of the choir clapping, too.

Amanda thanked them again and wished them all a happy Christmas as they walked back to the choir room. She felt gratified by their praise. Maybe being the music director at a church was not her true calling, but she had learned so much here in such a short time. It had been a very valuable experience, one that she would remember for the rest of her life.

“Hey, Merry Christmas, Music Girl. The choir was awesome today. Even I sounded good singing with them.”

Amanda looked up. Gabriel stood by her desk, gazing down at her with his bright blue eyes.

“Was that you croaking in the background out there? I had to play a little louder to drown it out. I think I managed it.”

He laughed at her teasing. “Hey, I’m not that bad . . . Maybe you shouldn’t get a Christmas present after all. Just coal for you this year, Music Girl.”

He had been hiding a box covered in wrapping paper behind his back but now held it out for her to see.

“Suit yourself,” she said. She stood up and reached into the leather tote on her desk. “But if you don’t give me my present . . . maybe I shouldn’t give you yours.”

She pulled out the gifts she had wrapped for him, hoping she would see him here this morning.

“You have a present for me? That’s so sweet.” He seemed surprised and pleased she had thought of him, even though he had come prepared with her gift.

“It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

“I hope you like yours. Only one way to find out. You go first,” he said. He handed her the box and watched as she unwrapped it.

It was fairly big box but felt too heavy for clothing, which was a relief. Amanda rarely liked any clothing picked out for her, and it was hard to pretend otherwise.

There was some tissue cushioning inside, which seemed to eliminate a book. Then she pulled the tissue back and quickly realized what the gift was: the beautiful stained-glass beach scene he had shown her when they drove to Angel Island.

“Gabriel . . . you’re giving me this? It’s so beautiful,” she said, holding up the glass creation. “But you shouldn’t have,” she said suddenly. “I mean, this is your artwork. You must need it. To put in an art show or something.”

He shrugged. “It’s not quite that wonderful. But I’m glad you think so. I finished it just in time. I put this chain on the top so you can hang it in a window if you like.”

“Of course I’ll hang it up. I can’t wait.” She set it down carefully and looked up at him. “I love it. I truly do. Thank you so much.” She knew that wasn’t a very articulate response, but she couldn’t quite find the words—or the courage—to convey her feelings, to tell him how precious this gift was to her. She reached up and put her arms around him and hugged him a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You are so welcome. I’m so glad now I didn’t get you something safe, like a book or a calendar,” he admitted with a laugh.

“I am, too . . . but my present isn’t half as interesting or original,” she said as she handed him the box.

“Somehow I doubt that.” He quickly tore off the paper to reveal the large-format art book she had found online for him. It was about stained glass, the history of it and the most famous examples from churches and buildings around the world, featuring major artists who worked in the medium, like Louis Tiffany, Marc Chagall, and Frank Lloyd Wright.