Christmas, Love, and Dead, Rotting Leaves

I’m scribbling this post on a scrap piece of paper between practicing violin, putting up our Christmas tree, wrapping presents, and running random errands before rehearsal tonight.

This week is hectic, but the Christmas season is seeping into my blood. I can’t wait to send presents to my friends. It makes me super happy because they’re going to love their gifts. (When Sarah-mom read this, she said except her because she’s a toad with no heart. 😀 ) Plus there’s cold weather, winter sunsets, and shoots of green grass straggling up under layers of dead, rotting leaves after it rains.


         -Jane Austen, from Sense and Sensibility

One of the best parts of the season for me is the music. Besides waltzing around the house to carols, I’m playing violin in two different Messiah performances—one with an ensemble. Which means rehearsal tonight, Saturday morning, performances on Sunday, rehearsal Monday night, and another performance Tuesday night. At that point, I will have the music memorized and be sneaking caffeine between songs.

Close your eyes for a minute and imagine sitting in the middle of a symphony orchestra, your violin’s strings biting into the fingers of your left hand, your right hand gripping your bow. All around you, triumphant notes tremble in the air while the three hundred people in the audience belt out the “Hallelujah Chorus”. It leaves me breathless every year.

For now, I’ll end with the words of a soprano recitative and a chorus (derived from Luke 2:10-14):

“And the angel said unto them, fear not:

for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.

And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God,

and saying: Glory to God, glory to God in the highest,

and peace on earth, goodwill towards men.”

2 comments to Christmas, Love, and Dead, Rotting Leaves

  • Sarah Bennett  says:

    I have a heart…in a jar, on my desk.

    • rejdragonwriter  says:

      It’s probably not even yours.

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