News of the world is daily maddening, full of pointless cruelty. We must take our moments of joy where we find them. My sons are in the bell choir at Trinity United Methodist Church. Before the service, the congregation sings hymns as randomly suggested by the congregants. Number Two Son had been looking through the hymnal and apparently found a song he liked: Angels We Have Heard on High. He confidently raised his tiny hand. “It’s too early for Christmas songs,” I whispered. He slowly lowered his hand, and we sang some other song.
After the song finished, the choirmaster asked for one more. One of the congregants had noticed the little hand, and pointed him out.
“Yes? What number?”
He spoke loudly and clearly, “Number 238.”
I couldn’t sing along very well overcome with emotion.