To Carol Or Not to Carol

Caroling, a Christmas tradition contemplated with fondness and nostalgia can, in reality, be an exhausting ordeal for the carolers as well as the carolees. One December, many moons ago, my husband cleaned up our big old farm truck so the young parents and children from our church could brighten that wintry evening for the elderly and shut-ins.

Bundled against the frosty air, we clambered into the back of the truck. Some of the less agile women and small children had to be lifted by a few of the husky men and pitched into the bed, still smelling of manure--the truck, not the women and children. Then my husband revved up the motor and off we lurched into the starry night, singing merrily. As our crowd of carolers overwhelmed the smaller homes and apartments, some of the shut-ins had to be assisted out of their cozy chairs, or warm beds (at least one was down for the night, or so they’d thought) to stand on frigid porches, leaning on canes, clutching a shawl to their shoulders, to smile and wave, expressing their pleasure that yet another group brimming with Yuletide cheer had remembered them. I wondered if they later requested that the church remove their names from the list of shut-ins.

Those individuals with ample room invited us in for refreshments, insisting we share the trove of cookies we and other groups had brought them. It wasn’t long before the children launched into sugar highs and we adults, who hated to disappoint our hosts, began to feel rather ill from all the  treats we’d consumed–worsened by the jouncing truck.

And then there was the problem with our route. Not having planned it very efficiently, a member of our zealous band would suddenly remember some neglected soul across town which meant a long chilly ride in the teeth of the biting wind. Despite our exhaustion and rising queasiness, we felt compelled to push ever forward, dragging our fussy children along, to bring the joy of Christmas at last to the needy folk in the nursing home. As we trooped up the hall, I overheard one elderly resident, weary but resigned, comment, “We’ve had carolers every night this week.”

And that, my friends, is the last time I ever went caroling. But for those of you who insist on this holiday undertaking, I suggest giving your route some thought beforehand, limit the number of homes you visit. Here’s a wild thought, maybe even call ahead to see if people actually want carolers. I don’t, unless you’re wearing costumes like the ones in A Christmas Carol and sing those lovely Old English tunes. Also,  find some other transport besides the back of a freezing cold  farm truck, and bring treats you actually want to eat because they will be offered to you.

And God Bless us everyone.

Some People Could Greatly Benefit from the Visit of Three Spirits

As the holiday season fast approaches, my mind turns to the invaluable lessons of that time-old classic, A Christmas Carol. Are there people in your life who would bless you and others with the best Christmas gift ever if they turned around, stopped being mean-spirited and thought of others? I find myself praying a transforming event such as occurred to Scrooge might happen for these souls. What a better place our world would be.

I recently revisited this thought while watching The Muppet Christmas Carol with my darling three-year old grandbaby, Chloe. We sang our way through it. At least, I did. She loves music, though not necessarily my rendition. Everyone’s a critic. It’s never too early to sing your way through that movie. Kermit the Frog is Bob Cratchit and the adored Miss Piggy is his wife. Don’t worry, it all works out in the end. Scrooge is miraculously altered just in time for Christmas. The spirits did it all in one night. If only they got around more.

Years ago, when Chloe’s mom, my oldest daughter Alison, was in high school, her English teacher (naïvely) told the class they could call him anytime, should questions arise as to the assignment. This is a small private school, so the camaraderie between teachers and students is greater than in many educational institutions at that level. Conniving Alison and several like-minded friends waited until a few days before Christmas and called this well-meaning teacher at midnight. How he kept his wits about him, awakened at that hour, I have no idea, but he had the presence of mind to ask, “Are you the spirits whose coming was foretold to me?”

Brilliant retort. And he retracted that bit about calling him anytime.

Sally forth good spirits and work your wonders. And God bless us everyone.