We gathered last night, coming in from the frigid arctic cold, bringing our instruments - trumpets, trombones, horns - to prepare for Saturday evening's Holiday Concert. The sanctuary was lit and warm, a haven from the dark winter's night outside. The music was festive, it was fun, from high baroque of Telemann to jazz versions of We Three Kings and Let It Snow. For three hours we blew duets and quintets, we hammered out chords and complex rhythmic structures, we site-read and we rehearsed. For three hours, Christmas music flew from our lungs, our fingers, our instruments into the open space of the church sanctuary. For three hours we made music, and it was good.
Then to pack up the instruments, return chairs and music stands to their proper locations, to say goodbye and to head out into the dark and the frost, to drive home past houses lit with twinkling lights, past parking lots full of pine trees waiting to find a home, underneath a heaven of sparkling stars, finally realizing that Christmas time is here. I know - Advent is a season of waiting. But I'm through waiting. Christ has already come. I'm in a mood to celebrate.