Beautiful
I went to Mass with my parents and son on Christmas Eve. One of the parish doyennes had crafted luminaries out of gallon milk jugs. There were hundreds of them, spaced 2 or 3 feet apart on both sides of the sidewalk then length of the entire block and around the corner. They were unbelievably, amazingly beautiful. One milk jug with some sand and an emergency candle in daylight is tacky. Hundreds of them in the twilight are magical. We walked into the church and found a pew while the children's choir was singing and drumming a little too enthusiastically. I looked at the altar to see six servers in their white robes spinning lengths of white and gold ribbon more or less in rhythm to the music. After the short concert, the servers led the processional, ribbons held in long trains above their heads. The children followed with vigil candles of their own, soft candlelight making shadows on soft faces. I cried.
2 comments:
That sounds beautiful. K's family usually goes to midnight Mass, but this year it was actually at midnight, and I fell asleep. Your post makes me wish I'd made the effort.
I cried at midnight Mass, too. I'm glad I wasn't alone. Oh Holy Night gets me every (EVERY!) time.
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