I couldn't help but roll my eyes when I saw the title for this year's Christmas cantata for the adult choir. If there's one Christmas song I could place in a box and hide away from the rest of the world, it would be M*ary Did You Know... (Sorry, Mark, it's just a difficult song!)
If you don't know, that song is written "to" Mary, the mother of J*esus, asking her if she knew her baby boy would do the things He did and be the thing He is. You should definitely g*oo*gle it, but get a tissue handy first. I'll wait...
So that's the title of our musical this year. Of course, MDYK is in it. Tonight, for the first time, I heard the song before MDYK, which is a solo... Written from the perspective of Mary. "Mommies and Daddies" are the first stinkin' words, and the song talks about imagining what your child will be when they grow up, and who would imagine He would be a King?
In my mind, I crossed my arms over my chest, stomped my foot, and said "this is a DUMB song!" Really, it's a good song, and I like it, but it stings. I long to hold my children, to meet them and know them, so I *can* have dreams for them. I managed to keep the tears away. Even though I started thinking about how a few months ago, when we started practicing this music, I was still thinking I might have to sit out because I could be holding my babies*. It doesn't look so likely now, and Christmas morning has the potential to be painfully quiet and very sad. But I didn't cry.
Then we started singing MYDK... I tried really, really hard not to cry. It's not just the words, but the feelings and thoughts that song brings with it. It's torture, really, for me to try to sing it. At first, I thought it would just be a few tears I could easily wipe away. Yeah, except not. I quietly left the choir loft and went to the bathroom.
It's not the first year I've struggled through a musical. I just thought it would be soooooo different this year.
*I guess, technically, it could still happen. The optimistic side of me is holding out hope. The realistic side is trying to prepare for another quiet, childless Christmas.