This is something I wrote last Christmas-time, I think 🙂 .
The sun rays had just melted into the distant hill tops when my music teacher praises my intonation in my Gavotte. She hands me my books and papers covered in musical notes and smudged, penciled reminders hastily scribbled in the margins, and, suppressing a grin, she tells me she has something for me.
As she walks out I hold my violin patiently and look around at all the old books lining the tall wooden shelves, much like a library, accented with a classy lush red rug, modishly drawing in all the brilliant deep blues and purples throughout the room. And then, embellishing the shelves, are pine cones and tree ornaments and the smell of fir and cinnamon, and the feeling that Christmas is coming fills me with such an overwhelming joy I feel like I can hardly breathe.
She comes back with a pile of faded piano and violin books, passed down through her family, and flips through each one murmuring to herself, “I know it’s here somewhere!” Then suddenly she pauses after flipping to a page with a separate paper wedged in the binding of the book. She takes it out and presses it to her heart endearingly, and asks me with a full smile, “Do you like to do duets?”
I stand there, no words coming to me. Do I like duets? “I, uh, I don’t know … Well, I haven’t actually done one before so I … don’t … really … know …” I say, fading.
She sets the sheet on my music stand, and I make out a few words which must be the title “The First Noel”. It sounds familiar. My teacher claps her hands excitedly and says this is one of her favorite Christmas duets. I smile slightly, being tired and wanting to go home to a mug of hot cocoa so warm it burns through my weary, stiff fingers. I inwardly sigh, but, knowing I can soon go home, I set my violin on my shoulder and raise my bow.
When she counts to three, we both draw down our bows in unison, and the room is filled with the deep, soulful quintessence of that tapestry of notes intimately woven together to make music.
And then I feel that rush of peace and reverence as I’m realizing that Christ came down from heaven as a baby in order to die for my sins so that I may live. And I will see His face in the end of this story that the Lord is writing: a love story. This love story where no matter how unfaithful the Bride is, the Groom still loves her anyway and is coming back to take Her home to Himself.
Could this moment possibly sink any deeper?