My soul magnifies the Lord
My spirit rejoices in God my Savior
My soul magnifies the Lord
My spirit rejoices in God
It is the week before Christmas, that strange in-between time where real life continues even as we hurtle toward festivity. For those of us who travel long distances to celebrate, the holiday is a clear separation from routine, a break made more definite by two thousand miles on an airplane, suitcases stuffed with clothes and presents, then three hundred miles of long, gray Texas highway.
As the calendar ticks closer to our departure date, I’m living two parallel lives: one largely normal week of work and home and daily routine, one week of lists and preparations and giddy anticipation of seeing loved ones I haven’t seen for months, or a year.
Glory be to God the Father
And glory be to God the Son
Glory be to God the Spirit
Glory be to God
This week, I still hit the snooze button in the mornings, throw on my green coat and ride the subway to Harvard Square. I answer emails, wrap up work projects, then walk down to Darwin’s for some chai and breathing space. On Monday afternoon, I sat on the steps of Memorial Church, my back resting against one of its wide wooden columns, letting my brain spin out while I gazed at the deep blue sky.
This week, I am still making soup, eating leftovers, sitting in front of the Christmas tree with a mug of tea in my hands. I’m clinging to my routine, with its built-in space for solitude, because it’s about to be disrupted for two whole weeks. I’m looking forward to the disruption – I’m aching to see my parents and sister, meet my brand-new nephew and hug my friends – but I also know it will be exhausting.
He has been mindful of his servant
He has been mindful of me
I will be blessed forever, forever
I will be blessed by the Lord
The celebrations are rushing by: the office holiday lunch with its Secret Santa exchange, a few last lunches and coffee dates, the church Christmas party. I am making Texas plans: dinner with family friends in Dallas, the Christmas Eve service at my parents’ church, some much-needed time with friends in Abilene. Nephew cuddles, quiet days with our families, and lots and lots of Mexican food.
God alone is mighty, mighty
Our God alone has done great things
God alone is worthy, worthy
Holy is his name
Here, late in Advent, I am humming the Magnificat, a simple four-part a cappella song based on Mary’s hymn of praise in the first chapter of Luke. We’ve been singing it at church lately, the soprano and tenor, bass and alto parts weaving around and over and through one another.
I have heard and sung many choral versions of the Magnificat over the years, but this one is my favorite. My friend Frankie loves it too, and I think of her every time we sing it, her warm alto voice matching mine.
We are still waiting for Christmas, waiting for Christ to come, amid frightening headlines and soul-weariness and constantly growing to-do lists. But during my long, frenetic workdays, the Magnificat plays steadily in the back of my mind, like a heartbeat. A quiet reminder that, behind everything else, there is this: wonder, humility and praise.