This Little Light

Advent is the season of waiting and preparation that leads to Christmas. Sunday the children at our church will participate in a Christmas pageant and puppet show. In preparation they have been encouraged to practice singing "This Little Light of Mine" and "Go Tell It on the Mountain" - refrain only. I haven't heard either of my children sing the songs of late, but they have both told me that they know them. I have plenty to nag them about so I've let it be.

We don't live with werewolves exactly, but when the moon is up and it's getting late, our children change. They do things like dance and sing wildly as if to keep their tired bodies awake and fatigue at bay. We had popped in on a holiday party earlier in the evening and so with dinner pushed back, the Mule started belting out, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine" while holding the small electric light from the advent candle she had made, twirling in the ballerina slippers that I had left out to remind myself to stitch the straps in place (she's only been in ballet for three months), and then she came to this verse which I had never heard before, "Don't let Satan blow it out, don't let Satan blow it out, don't let Satan blow it out!" She blew out her light (and flipped the switch on the bottom) and fell dramatically to the floor in a heap. I felt the twitch of unknowing in my left eye.

My husband, who some how cuts to the heart of what is bothersome to me, said to our daughter, "The song is about the light. Some people choose to emphasize the good battling evil part, blowing out the light of Satan, but the song is about letting the light shine through you." 

She's a nimble one, she rose, twirled, snapped on the light, and sang, "This little light of mine, I'm going to make Athens shine."

The lights are shinning in Athens

Advent is the season of waiting and preparation that leads to Christmas. Sunday the children at our church will participate in a Christmas pageant and puppet show. In preparation they have been encouraged to practice singing "This Little Light of Mine" and "Go Tell It on the Mountain" - refrain only. I haven't heard either of my children sing the songs of late, but they have both told me that they know them. I have plenty to nag them about so I've let it be.

We don't live with werewolves exactly, but when the moon is up and it's getting late, our children change. They do things like dance and sing wildly as if to keep their tired bodies awake and fatigue at bay. We had popped in on a holiday party earlier in the evening and so with dinner pushed back, the Mule started belting out, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine" while holding the small electric light from the advent candle she had made, twirling in the ballerina slippers that I had left out to remind myself to stitch the straps in place (she's only been in ballet for three months), and then she came to this verse which I had never heard before, "Don't let Satan blow it out, don't let Satan blow it out, don't let Satan blow it out!" She blew out her light (and flipped the switch on the bottom) and fell dramatically to the floor in a heap. I felt the twitch of unknowing in my left eye.

My husband, who some how cuts to the heart of what is bothersome to me, said to our daughter, "The song is about the light. Some people choose to emphasize the good battling evil part, blowing out the light of Satan, but the song is about letting the light shine through you." 

She's a nimble one, she rose, twirled, snapped on the light, and sang, "This little light of mine, I'm going to make Athens shine."

The lights are shinning in Athens