What Child is This?

Jesus as Yogi - He was a seeker, just like me

What a busy day this Christmas Eve turned out to be!

It started with a huge community yoga class at Perennial, which was really beautiful, and then I moved on to a little cross country skiing action in one of my favorite Madison Parks. The feeling of being underneath giant treetops is so comforting to me, and it was a beautiful morning for it.

When I got home, I had just enough time to get to Wholefoods for some nourishment for myself today and my kids tomorrow, before being picked up for church by my friend and her kids.

We went to the church with the Priest for whom I used to babysit -- and she does an amazing job with kids.

Feeling held by the canopy of giant snowy trees

For me, even though the church is super different from the one I went to as a kid, being there always evokes emotion for me, especially when singing hymns.

This is one of the hymns we sang today -- and it was also in the playlist at my yoga class -- so it feels like the perfect song to mark this day:

What child is this, who, laid to rest,
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
The babe, the son of Mary.

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and donkeys are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spears shall pierce him through,
the cross he bore for me, for you.
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,

My friend and her two beautiful daughters at St. Dunstan's

the Babe, the Son of Mary.

Here comes my favorite line, the one that has been on repeat for me all day:

So bring him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come, peasant, king, to own him.
The King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone him.
Raise, raise a song on high,
The virgin sings her lullaby
Joy, joy for Christ is born,
The babe, the Son of Mary.

The king of king salvation brings. I reckon I kept repeating it because I hoped it was true -- salvation for me, for my father, for my mother. Some of the tears I felt as I tried to sing were for my mother, whom I know is hamstrung by what my father is unwilling or unable to deal with. Of course, if she were better able to hold it than she is, it might be different for my Dad too. Who knows? The only thing I know is that I have to stay true to myself, even if I don't know yet what that will mean for the rest of my family.

For now, it feels like enough to be thankful for this beautiful, full day, and these majestic, reassuring hymns:

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
The babe, the son of Mary.