The Call that has Echoed Since the Day He Was Born





The King of Angels

When Nathan and I decorated for Christmas the week of Thanksgiving, I didn't feel the holiday spirit. In fact, I felt a lot of holiday nothing and kept wanting to take short cuts and leave things in boxes. I went through the motions so as to not buck tradition. But even now there aren't as many lights in my yard as in previous years.
But a week later, my parents and I drove to Athens for the annual Hodgson School of Music Holiday Concert. Doctor appointments early in the week forced me to teach later that Friday than intended, so we battled traffic on the way and found our seats only moments before the first note was sung.

The lights dimmed and the Hodgson singers began with a soft a capella piece. After a short pause when they finished, the full orchestra began the one Christmas carol that still makes me weep today. I'm having a hard time typing through tears which is ironic because I've only cried this month when I've sung this song or thought about what I felt that night at the concert.

Three hundred (or more) choral students processed in as the orchestra played O Come All Ye Faithful.
When the conductor urged the audience to join in and I began to sing, the very essence of Christmas filled my soul.

O Come All Ye Faithful... Come Joyful! And Triumphant!

A gentle command. A divine nudge. Don't just show up. Drop what you're doing. Leave it all behind. Seriously, just let it go. Come with Joy, and strength, and song, as the victor.

Come ye, o come ye, to Bethlehem.

Go to the manger. Spend time with the one who came to change the world.

Come and Adore Him, Born the King of Angels.

We, the faithful, the ones who believe, the ones who have accepted the call from darkness to light all around the world are called to abandon doubts, fears, concerns, worries, and commanded to go the manger... together. Mighty. Healed. Assured. Confident. To adore the King of Angels.

The song buckles my knees. It's declarative style, especially when accompanied by a full orchestra,  makes me feel part of generations of the faithful. I'm no longer just me and my muck. I'm part of  a whole host of humanity rising up to worship our Savior on Christmas morn. To celebrate His life. To bask in God with us, Immanuel.

With the recent national crisis, my impending ankle reconstruction surgery, and a host of other situations I could list that remind us of the constant barrage of evil we daily overcome, I'm all the more looking forward to singing this song one more time on Christmas Eve at First Presbyterian Church in Douglasville, Ga.. My mom's hand bell choir will accompany the organ with trumpet and timpani. So while not quite a full orchestra, it's a pretty decent showing.

[If you live out that way and don't have a home church to worship in Christmas Eve, the above link should display their Dec. 24th service schedule.]

We'll be celebrating the King of Angels, something I really can't wrap my brain around. But I sure enjoy trying. Because that's what it's all about. Not my surgery. Not cancers that takes lives. Not the deranged who inflict pain on the innocent.

No this is all about something so much bigger and so much more important. The God of love who sent His son to change the world.

O Come all ye Faithful. Come Joyful. Come Triumphant. And adore the one born the King of Angels.

A Crazy Surprise on a Night Out with Dad

 

 

My dad and I met at a local mall last night on our way to Christmas with the ASO. While my mom has sung with the group for twenty years, I'd never seen the holiday performance. So my parents bought me a ticket for my birthday.  And Friday was our date.

We met early so we could grab dinner at a nearby restaurant. Dad picked Longhorn Steakhouse since he'd won several gift cards and there was one close to our rendezvous point. We left my car, drove across the street, and entered what seemed a normal place of food operation.

As we settled in, however, a waitress brought menus and said something I'd never heard a waitress say before, "Tonight is opening night so almost everything on the menu is free." She went on to name three cuts of steak that weren't included in the deal, but insisted we could order anything else we wanted, including an appetizer or dessert, free of charge.

Free, savory food. An entire menu full of choices. The richest of fair.

I haven't eaten out in that calibre of a restaurant in quite a while. To walk in and be offered the best -as a guest - made my mind wander in different places. Lyrics to an old song: "He brought me to His banqueting table; His banner over me is love." Scripture: "I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever." (John 6: 51) A story: "That evening quail came and covered the camp, and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the dew was gone, thin flakes like frost on the ground appeared on the desert floor. When the Israelites saw it, they said to each other, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread the Lord has given you to eat." (Ex. 16: 13 -15)

As I searched the menu, I thought about how God's offerings are  more rich and varied than the delectable fare I chose from that day. Still I often fail to relish His goodness; to live off His daily sustenance, or to believe He can do crazy things like lead us at just the right time to just the right restaurant where a mouthwatering, free meal awaits.

We've since learned that Longhorn always offers free food the first two days a new restaurant opens. And that those two days are normally "by reservation only." Dad and I just happened to walk in about fifteen minutes before the reservations kicked in and got a table. After the memorable meal, we drove to Symphony Hall and listened to one of the premier musical groups in the country perform varied Christmas numbers I've heard about for years.

And it all makes me wonder if I really grasp what the baby alone was all about. When I look at my ceramic Jesus surrounded by nativity figurines, do I realize what He symbolizes? What His presence really means in my life? That He came to save the world - the entire world?

Probably not. But I'm going to think about it a little more this week. The wonder I felt looking at the menu should only be a taste of what I feel basking in the Savior's birth.

"O come, O come, Emmanuel; And ransom captive Israel..."

  

Check out Music by Susan Schreer Davis on Itunes!

Comfort From My Christmas Tree

It took several days of  napping, after working the store for Don on Black Friday, for me to recharge. We own the Go Fish Clothing & Jewelry Co. located on the Marietta Square. Since Don has worked Thanksgiving weekend for five years running, I encouraged him to head south to his family farm this year. His kids and grandkids had planned a trip there as well. While I expected the day to take a toll, I didn't expect to still need a nap after a shower three days later.

Some memories are worth the added effort though, even if boredom strikes during recovery.  Sometimes the silence (or mindless TV) turns my living room into a lost place;  a prison of sorts, especially if the tiredness drags on and it takes days to shift into a higher gear.

But this week was different.

My oldest son, Nathan, arrived home several days before Thanksgiving and pulled out Christmas boxes. Since I was laying low in preparation for the big Friday, the two of us slowly filled our house with season decor. We spread it out over three days. By the time we ate turkey, however, my living room sparkled.

The tree was up. Lights covered the front porch. And the boxes were back upstairs.

As I sat in my living room, succumbing to nap after nap, I realized how much comfort I found from my Christmas tree. It's not  fancy and leans at the top with varied (and aging) ornaments. But distant memories came alive with its presence in the room.

My first husband and I picked up a box of these little China girls when we smuggled Bibles over Asian borders. She's not my favorite. But I love the memory.

 

Next to her hangs a reminder of why we moved back to Atlanta from Nashville a few years after that trip. With the 1996 games looming, my graphic artist/freelance illustrator hoped for more work in the peach state.

 

One year to save money,  he hand decorated glass ornaments to give away as Christmas gifts. This is a photo of one of my three:

Don's former wife, also an artist with impeccable taste, left several of these fine snowmen packed away in boxes. I love them. And I love having part of her mixed in our tree. After three years of combining ornaments, they're all blending together.

My camera battery died or I'd post a few more photos. But there's a large globe with glittery butterflies symbolizing the years we spent traveling to Fantasy in Lights at Callaway Gardens. Trips to The Day Butterfly House included.

There's a Swedish doll with one arm my grandparents gave me as a child. In fact, my tree is full of ornaments my grandparents gave through the years. Glass nativity globes. Wooden pianos. Ceramic angels.

And there's the stained glass ornaments papa made. The same papa who taught my son to craft similar ornaments for his friends. That story's so good, it's already been published: A Stained Glass Healing.

Memories of our families hang all over our tree. So while the room is silent, the tree tilts forward, and my tired body requires rest, it's just a little less lonely.

When we pulled out the boxes, the task seemed daunting. But now I'm grateful for the comfort I feel; comfort from a Christmas tree. A tree that reminds me of family.

Check out and download music by Susan Schreer Davis on Itunes!