Some memories don’t dim but only grow brighter with age. For me, one night stands out more clearly than most. Christmas Eve.
Christmas Eve services during my childhood were magical. The pastor dimmed the church’s lights and he lit his own candle from the Christ candle. Through the darkness, the simple quiet words of long-loved hymn. No organ; no piano. Juice soft, sweet voices. Candle by candle passed from hand to hand. Flame after flame lit. Finally, after all the candles were lit, we followed the pastor outside into a courtyard and circled, finishing the song. A cold winter night, stars overhead, and the flicker of candles in the darkness.
Silent Night. Holy Night. Here is one of my very favorite renditions of this class hymn.