Last night was Middle Sister’s university Christmas concert. Held in a landmark Catholic church in town, (Immaculate Conception, which was founded in 1834 in the form of a log cabin) the music encompassed four excellent choirs, a brass ensemble, classical guitar, and a bell choir. A lovely celebration of the season, and a heartwarming experience for The Husband and me to watch our daughter sing with such beauty, poise, and obvious joy.
We ran into some old friends there, some expected and one a complete surprise – the pastor who performed our wedding ceremony 28 years ago. He was also one of my father-in-law’s closest friends, and The Husband’s mentor as a young man. A special addition to the evening.
The evening of music was hosted by Middle Sister’s choral director. Dr. Robinson is an exceptionally kind, generous, and loving gentleman. I’ve heard him described in this way: “Some people look at life with the glass half empty, some with the glass half full. Dr. Robinson’s glass is constantly overflowing.” Midway through the concert he gave an impassioned plea for generosity toward Harvesters, the food distribution agency to which the concert was dedicated. Prior to that speech, The Husband and had I watched him escort an elderly, poorly dressed woman who had come in off the street, holding her hand as he helped her to a good seat.
Heading home late in the cold, frosty evening, Middle Sister and I were doing a post-mortem on the performances as we always do, when The Husband gasped. “Did you pick up my book when we left?”
We’d had to arrive very early to get our daughter there for rehearsal. I took my knitting along to keep myself occupied, and The Husband had brought a book Oldest Sister gave him for his birthday. I certainly hadn’t picked up the book as we left, so it had to still be sitting in the pew we’d been in. So The Husband dropped us off at home and turned around to go back to the church, hoping it would still be open. Of course it wasn’t. And here’s the thing: the idea of losing anything, ever, sends him straight into panic. In fact, just before we’d left the house that evening, Middle Sister realized she couldn’t find her favorite scarf. We were late leaving because he insisted on looking for it everywhere, even though she wasn’t particularly concerned. So it was a rough night when the book was discovered missing.
The happy ending was that this morning – thank heaven – he was able to slip into the sanctuary between masses and find the book just where he’d left it.
So now we’re able to look back at the experience with only happy memories. A holy night, indeed.