Hear the angels sing

I'm gett'n long in the tooth now. But look'n back so many decades when I was a lad and Shep was a pup, there was those Christmas that always seemed like 20-30 below. The new cabin wasn't too far from the little Catholic Church.

"Don't be late sez mom as she hurried me out the door, it'll be warm at the Church."

I remember the crunch of the snow under foot as I walked to practice the Christmas hymns. Mrs. Ver Schnider would be there to play the organ. Mom didn't always practice 'cause she knew them all by heart. I often wonder now if she knew that many of those hymns were written by Charles Wesley a Methodist. She be'n a devout Catholic and all. Cradle to the grave and how she loved the Lord Jesus.

Anyway, after we sang our hearts out I hurried home to pester Mom for my heart's desire, a Daisy BB gun. How I pleaded and begged. Perhaps this year she sold enough trees to award me the coveted gun. She never tried to convince us kids of fly'n reindeer or a jolly fat guy try'n to crawl down our chimney. She did though tell us about a St. Nicholas but I forgot the story. Might be worth look'n it up again sometime. So how sad I was that morning when me and brother Tom got a Lincoln Log set to share. And wealthy relatives from the big city gave us warm shirts. I only wanted the gun there in the Sears Christmas catalog.

But God saw my disappointment and downcast spirit. For next summer at the Church picnic Uncle George gave me a dime to play bingo and I won my heart's desire!!

Nowadays we see piles of gifts under the tree. Looks 'like perhaps a little overkill. I always remember Grandson Levi when he was little. Got several toys and one came in a huge box. He ended up ignoring the toys. His dad cut a hole in the box, wrote Levis' House over the hole and the kid ignored the toys and spent most of his time in the box.

Anyhow, I shall not let the celebration of Christ's birth go by without reading to the family the wonderful story of the wonderful birth of the Messiah in Luke 2:8-20. Every time I read it, I get a blessing. Think of those shepherds--my oh my what that must have been like when the angel appeared.

It sez they were terrified. I'll bet they were. We would have been too. I always take note, God chose to appear to working folks, first with the good news. And there He was, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying on the straw in the manger. Perhaps with cattle and donkey and doves cooing from the rafters.

It was a reason there was no room for them at the inn. Father in heaven had a purpose to show us Christ's humility. At least that's my theory.

So if the hustle and bustle and glitter and commercialization of Christmas has your credit card look'n like it went through the wringer, come away from that weary world to rest and hear the angels sing. "Angels ~ we have heard on high, sweetly singing o'er the plains..."