My children snatched me and took me to the park today, to listen to the Madrigal Singers. Pure voices all in harmony, serenading us with Christmas carols under a tree of lights. Thank goodness for Children and their sixth sense. They knew I needed to return to innocence, when I can hearken to the voice of angels. Call me sentimental but sentiment was exactly what I needed. In the midst of our nation’s troubles, and even the world’s, I suddenly find myself a grumbler, unpleasant company, at times hateful. When did I become such a spiteful person, and judgmental too? I feel like the Queen of Hearts yelling: “off with their heads” as I give nasty pronouncements on right or wrong, right and left. It does not help at all when all I see are snippets about injustice, people with nothing to eat, homes still flooded with muck, and everything dark, dirty tricks and black propaganda included. But now I feel that as you belch out negativity, you suck in negativity as well. And one day, you find yourself losing all optimism and that little bounce in your step. And you forget how on Wednesdays, you can still find a nice a cappela concert, a block from where you live. And you forget that there are still people who sing like angels and that there are still songs about love. And you forget that your children still need to be carried to magical places where everything is good. I needed that dose of holiday cheer, that William Tell Overture I used to play on the piano, and oh, Jingle Bells. I forget it’s almost Christmas and I shouldn’t be such a grouch. I want to go back to belting out carols and family dinners reminiscing over jamon. My children need a memory of themselves singing Pasko na Naman. I haven’t swayed to a song in awhile, tapped my feet, clapped my hands (and mean it) and haven’t been truly there as my girls glanced up at me, in awe at the world. It’s tough to see merriment these days. But there are pure joys that should not be missed. And I, needed a little song.
In Search of Holy Places