I was reared Methodist, but ironically, when I was at Southern Methodist University finishing college, I joined the Episcopal Church (as it is known in the United States and Canada,) which is to say the Anglican Church or The Church of England.  I count among my friends Agnostics, Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, and I was flattered when my Jewish girlfriend invited my husband and me to their child’s bris several years ago.  My extremely squeamish husband was enjoying himself immensely, talking “Old Testament” with the Rabbi, up until he wondered why they were “strapping the baby into a chair.”  I had to get him into the dining room for fear of passing out and he broke into the Challah bread before it was time.  I write this with the hope that anyone who reads this will not feel excluded.  I realize customs and rituals differ; I can only write of my own experiences.  After being confirmed in the Episcopal Church I learned about a wonderful Advent tradition entitled “Lessons and Carols.”  In the liturgical calendar Advent is the time Christians await the coming of Christ in the form of baby Jesus.  It is told in nine Biblical readings, each followed by Christmas hymns, and/or choir anthems.  I shall confess I always attended for the love of the music and to participate in the singing.  When I was in the fourth grade; the same age my daughter is now, my music teacher, Mrs. Martin, encouraged my parents to let me try out for the Dallas Girls’ Chorus.  I auditioned solo and was accepted, and my first professional concert was held at SMU that following spring.  I can still remember walking around in circles on top of the ridge of the great fountain in front of Dallas Hall after that concert.  The air was warm and scented heavily with smell of freshly baked bread.  (At that time a large distributor had a plant across the street.)  That was precisely when I made up my mind that I wanted to attend college there someday.  I wound up at SMU on academic scholarship; only I let my great love for music drop because I was was working two full-time jobs and attending school full-time as well.  My degree was in journalism, but I kept up with music by covering as my first story for the Daily Campus the dedication of the Fisk organ at Caruth Auditorium — the very same place in which I had sung all those years ago.  Talk about a full-circle moment …  Both of my folks loved to sing and they did so almost daily.  My mother could sing and Daddy had a great voice … just not the best ear.  It never mattered to me.  I spent my entire life watching him sing with his whole heart, both in church and outside of it.  I was 28 when my father died and I never joined the church choir because I did not want my mother sitting all alone.  Later, after I was lucky enough to have found “THE ONE,” I was just thrilled to be sitting with him each Sunday in church.  After being blessed with a truly miraculous pregnancy, I sang to my child from the second I knew I was carrying her.  Although music (and sacred music in particular) had been such an integral part of my life, I realized our child might have no interest.  Fast forward ten years later.  I was thrilled when the choirmaster asked if our fourth grade little girl would be interested in joining the parish’s children’s choir, which was reviving after the pandemic we’ve all been living through.  She was excited and eager and I am proud to say I think it went well.  I’ve noticed my little one singing with me more and more in the car:  everything from John Legend to Bette Midler to the (real) Von Trapp family children’s Christmas songs.  I was allowed to participate in Lessons & Carols with the children and I realized an integral part of my soul had been cut off for so long.  It took me forty-one years to even become a mother; hoping my daughter might take to singing as I did was something of which I had only dreamed.  Now getting to sing with my child is beyond words.  A man named Sai Baba of Shridi, who was revered by both Hindus and Muslims, once said, “Life is a song — sing it.  Life is a game — play it.  Life is a challenge — meet it.  Life is a dream — realize it.  Life is a sacrifice — offer it.  Life is love — enjoy it.”  I never imagined how very much I would come to learn from “Lessons and Carols.”