traditions: caroling

When I was a kid, the Calvinettes (now called G.E.M.S – Girls Everywhere Meeting the Savior) group I met with weekly on Monday evenings would go to the local nursing home and would sing Christmas carols. The same happened in high school when I joined the choir.

I loved it.

As a child, I loved to sing. I still do, but I loved it in that environment. I could sing at the top of my lungs if I wanted to and no one would care. It was the opportune moment.

I also enjoyed chatting with those older, and much wiser, people. Seeing us kids probably made them feel young for all of two hours and spending time with them was a blessing I won’t forget as long as I live.

Prior to the loss of my great grandfather in 1996, I enjoyed stopping by his room at that nursing home to visit.  When I was little, I’d curl up on his lap and listen to the stories he would tell and enjoy my one piece of old fashioned Christmas candy.

I miss those days.

Carols for me then, too, where another way to tell the world of Jesus.

Granted, most of those songs can be over sung and over-done, but I never tired of it. I still haven’t. The minute Halloween is over, I “season” in my holiday tunes and after Thanksgiving, they’re in full swing.

I love Christmas music and, thanks to St. Francis of Assisi, they’re here to stay.

He is credited with the first carols sun during a worship service. He’s also credited with the first Nativity display and introduced those carols during a Christmas midnight mass.

I have yet to join in on any caroling events here in Minneapolis…maybe next year now that I know they exist. I’m also thankful for the freedom to sing those songs here in America – each one (with the exception of those written for mainstream audiences) tells the story of Christ’s birth.

See today’s post on one of my favorites: Go Tell It on the Mountain.

© Anita J. Brands. 2013. Website:


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