As a child I was “forced” to go caroling with my family and my church. I never really got the full meaning of what we were doing or how much it touched the people’s lives we were singing to. I just knew that at the end of it we always got hot chocolate and cookies. The promise of a couple of extra cookies for a good job would always be the lure to get me to sing at the top of my lungs (even though I have never been able to carry a tune). I remember the smiling faces of the “old” people that we would sing to and how those that weren’t smiling were staring off into space. I sometimes wondered if they couldn’t hear us.
As I have grown into an adult I have been caroling many times with different church groups and to different locations, some homes, some assisted living facilities. Each time I have gotten more of an appreciation of what we were doing. Spreading the joy of Christmas and just spreading happiness. Sometimes we would pass out candy canes or little trinkets, but most of the time it was just our voices and smiles and laughter that we gave.
It wasn’t until last night that I truly understood what caroling was really about. My Mom is seriously ill (which is why I haven’t been posting or writing often) and although she is on the up side right now (Yay!) she is homebound and needs assistance.
We got a call from my sister-in-law who said “My friend wants to know if they can come carol tonight?” My Mom said “Sure!” and so when I arrived from work we waited. Mom was so excited knowing that someone was coming to her house to sing just for her. I was indifferent and honestly, slightly annoyed because that meant it would be additional time that I would have to wait to help her prepare dinner and get her ready for her evening. (Selfish and harsh I know, trust me, I have felt guilty and horrible about it ever since – which is why I am posting this as a confession). So we opened the front door and Mom scooted her chair out enough so she could see around the corner to see when the headlights would appear in the drive. I busied myself in the kitchen getting things out, putting things up, and waiting, while glancing at the clock every so often. My anticipation was so very much different from hers. She was waiting for joy; I was waiting for it to be over. I was so very wrong.
I didn’t see the headlights but my Mom sure did. She jumped up (well, as much as jumping up meant she grabbed her walker and pulled herself to her feet) and yelled to me, “They’re here, they’re here!” I dried my hands and met her in the foyer and opened the door for her to shuffle out on the front porch. People poured out of the church van and filed in front of the porch in a semi-circle. The director introduced them as the First Baptist Church choir (which just so happened to be the church my Mom attends); she was so excited, even more so now, because she saw friendly faces that she knew. Her friends had come to sing for her. (as I write this tears fill my eyes at the memory of the smile that stretched across her face) He puffed into a harmonica thingy to get the right key and they began with “Joy to the World.” I couldn’t see many of their faces; honestly, they became a blur after a few minutes as tears filled my eyes as I watched them and Mom enjoy those moments together. Every one of the carolers was beaming with joy and my Mom was practically glowing with happiness. They sang “Silent Night” and “Away in a manger” and ended with “We wish you a Merry Christmas”. Mom sang along with them and clapped and laughed while tears streamed down her face. After it was over many of them came up and hugged Mom and exchanged well wishes and love. Before they left they handed us a tin of cookies and began to file back to the van. We stood there waving and smiling and crying until they were all inside the van and then quietly we went back inside and closed the door.
I shared a moment with my Mom that I will cherish for the rest of my life. I witnessed firsthand the receiving end of caroling, and it is something that is beautiful and memorable. The pure joy that she felt those few moments and long afterwards are in a word…priceless.
I don’t know how many of you have ever caroled in your life. But if you haven’t, please do it once, no matter your beliefs or your faith. Because the people who are on the receiving end are blessed more than you can imagine.
On a side note...this past Sunday after church I came to visit my Mom and sit with her for a while and I brought with me a gingerbread house kit. I have never put together a gingerbread house, although my Mom has put together several. I thought, “How hard can this be, really…its cookies and icing.” Well, let me tell you this, my fine readers, putting together a gingerbread house is H-A-R-D.
As you all know I have OCD. (Lucky!) So the beginning of the gingerbread adventure started with me laying out all the pieces and putting each of the candies into little individual bowls. I kneaded the icing and apparently I am Hot Hands McGhee because the icing turned to lava and nothing would/could stick to the gingerbread.
So once everything was sorted and instructions were read and reread two more times, we began. Step one: First squirt the icing into the preformed tray which would hold up the walls to the house. Done…only it was lava icing and the walls kept falling over. Hold the wall….hold the wall….hold the wall….squirt more icing…hold the wall…begin to get frustrated…hold the wall…glare at the smiling children’s faces on the box as they showed how easy it is…hold the wall…let go of the wall and watch it slowly fall over…stop caring…hand the icing to my Mom.
We placed the icing bag into the refrigerator for a few minutes to let it cool off from my oven hands and began again (after I smoked to calm down my icing frayed nerves). This time Mom held the icing and piped it and I held the walls together. A much better plan. The house was up, albeit, slightly tilting and lopsided and one of the walls is practically caved in, but standing. Mission accomplished. Now it was time to decorate. Hanging candy gum drops vertically on icing is not as easy as one would assume. Nor is it easy to keep the tiny little balls of candy (I still don’t know exactly what they are) from rolling around and popping off the tiny mounds of icing. Let’s just say that my Mom, my quiet, eloquent, old fashioned, Mom, turned into a cursing sailor every time a piece of candy would pop off the house. I laughed so hard I peed.
Our gingerbread man, the one who lives in our little crooked house, now has mittens and socks, because we couldn’t get the icing to come out in a pretty little piped stream like it was on the box, he also apparently has gas because half of his smile is drooping mid-toot. He is missing a button, because it popped off and I don’t know where it went. It’s probably buried under the globs of icing that fell on the preformed tray and is now permanently cemented to the plastic. But he is standing and proudly displaying his lopsided house. Although we had to prop him up with a gummy tree behind him, because Ole’ Hot Hands McGhee was in charge of the icing again by this point. The gingerbread Christmas tree is also propped up by a smaller tree, and although it is decorated, some of its ornaments (those same mysterious little balls of candy) have disappeared as well. The one decoration that turned out well was the icicles that hang from the eaves. Ole’ Hot Hands McGhee was good for something! Lava icing that drips and runs cools quickly once it’s out of the bag making excellent icicles.
We sat back, two hours later, and admired our creation. I can’t say it looks like children put it together, because the kids on the box clearly did a better job. So, after a few minutes of critiquing we decided…cover it with snow (powdered sugar). Problem solved.
(Oh, I forgot to mention, we cheated and used string to hold the walls up…it’s now permanently affixed due to the gobs of cement icing)
Here is the final result:
Merry Christmas everyone and remember, it’s the little moments, the ones filled with tears and laughter; those are the ones that you will cherish forever. Peace and joy this Christmas and for 2013…if we survive the apocalypse tomorrow…blessings and happiness!
M.L.
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