He made an heroic effort, he really did. But I could see that the grief of losing his Mom was making it difficult for my husband to enter into the festivities of Christmas Day. I was glad we had chosen to spend this day quietly at home.
After the remnants of the ribbon and wrapping paper were cleaned up, we had a few hours to nap or draw or read or just enjoy cookies by the fire. The Preacher disappeared for awhile into the basement, reappearing later with an armful of old vinyl record albums. He had received a nostalgic-type record player for Christmas, and he was going to try it out.
Shortly, the strains of Christmas in Velvet could be heard. That brought back memories! We purchased it in 1978, probably one of the first in our collection as a married couple. Then I heard The Stamps quartet, Barry McGuire, The 2nd Chapter of Acts, Evie Tournquist, the Oak Ridge Boys, the Imperials........
I left him to himself to listen, but I checked in on him several times. I saw him weep. I saw him clap, dance, and tap his feet. He laughed; he remembered. This man was in a different place!
After several hours, he came back to us, and he was changed. Somehow that heavy grief had been eased, lifted off and carried away with song. Peace had replaced the pain.
A. W. Tozer speaks of an experience "beyond song".
"The Bible is a musical book, and next to the Scriptures themselves, the best book to own is a good hymnbook. But still there is something beyond song.... (snip) when song breaks down under the weight of glory, then comes silence where the soul, held in deep fascination, feels itself blessed with an unutterable beatitude." ~from The Root of the Righteous
I think my husband was inhabiting that Holy place on Christmas Day. I am thankful for the gift of music. It may be only a vehicle to bring us to a higher place, but what would our lives be without it?