I’m sitting at my desk in the converted garage.  There’s a space heater beside me blowing warm air directly at my legs and feet. 

I’m not shivering.  It’s a good thing.

I wouldn’t expect the reader to know it, but I don’t love the cold.  I blame my father.  He would be happy to accept the blame.  When he was discharged from the Navy in the early 1960s, he took his red-headed wife and five youngsters to the Rio Grande Valley of Texas to make their home.

Saying, “I want to live somewhere where I can sweat twelve months of the year,” the man settled in for the foreseeable future, there in that place with two seasons—Hot and Hotter. 

My resulting thin blood has never thickened, in spite of nearly fifty years in a climate with four seasons per annum.

I realized something recently.  It was never taught in Sunday School, back when I was learning about King David—he with the harp, and the sling for which he took five smooth stones once upon a time.

In the book of First Kings, David is old.  Well, okay, he is about the age I am now.  The book’s first verse says, “King David was very old; even when they covered him with blankets, he could not get warm.”  (1 King 1:1, NET)

I’m reasonably certain that, if one were to ask her, the Lovely Lady would tell them that this verse describes me to a T. 

I don’t like to shiver.

It is the week in which our local university’s choirs present their Candlelight Service.  I have had the pleasure of having a small part in the service for many years, all of them before this while playing my horn with the brass ensemble that you might describe as the “warm-up band.”

Now.  There’s a good word!

Warm.

I like that.

Oh—where was I?  Oh yes, the Candlelight Service.

This year, I am enjoying singing with one of the choirs, as part of a community group, combined with the University Chorus.  I’m certain I was not selected for my great skill.  More probably it was just to have a warm body sitting in the bass section.

Oh.  There it is again.  That word.

Warm.

It is nice, isn’t it?

We arrived, the Lovely Lady and I, for the dress rehearsal last night in the beautiful Cathedral of the Ozarks—having walked the few blocks from our home to the campus.  It seemed the huge room was almost as chilly inside as the exterior temperature had been, but I took my coat off anyway.

I wished I hadn’t.  Several times during the rehearsal.

When they turned the spotlights on, the young man next to me (knowing I was cold) leaned close and stage-whispered (Well?  We were on a stage!) in the general direction of my ear, “Now you’ll get warm!”

Light that makes you warm.  Now, there’s a thought. 

I have been on stages before when the lights were so hot I soaked the shirt I was wearing.  Sweat running down one’s spine is not all that much more comfortable than shivering in the cold.  Not much, but some.

The spotlights didn’t make me warm.  I think they may have been LEDs.  I understand the reasons for using LEDs, but the old incandescent bulbs made better heaters.

But, at one point, the choir director had our group sit while the Cathedral Choir (the first-string, you know) ran through one of their pieces.  I thought it might be my imagination, but it seemed that I was less cold.

Then, when they sat down later, I was certain of it.  It was warmer when they were standing in front of us.  Definitely warmer.

I guess the reader understands by now that I like the warmth.  But, I also like it when a concept breaks through the chill and warms my brain, too.  Maybe, it’s just the light going on in there that does that.

The young folks standing near us warmed us up.

It’s a time-honored concept.  I’m not going to belabor the point, but we warm each other up.  By our proximity.

Do you know what the wise men who were advisors to King David suggested for his problem all those centuries ago?  They selected a young woman to be his nurse and to lie beside him in the bed to warm him up.  And, before your mind can explore that road down toward the gutter, the text is very specific; he was not intimate with her.  She simply shared her body warmth to make him less cold. (1 Kings 1:4)

We’re warmer when we are close to folks we love.  Or, even just like. 

It’s odd; I’ve never thought of the Christmas season as a cold time.  I, who have disrespected winter again and again, both in real life and in my writing, always think of Christmas as being a warm time.

Perhaps it’s the closeness of our family at this time of year.  And of our friends.  And our acquaintances at church—and the coffeeshop—and the Christmas parade.

We share warmth. 

With music.  And love. 

And Joy that shall be to all people.

I’m aware that many don’t have family to get together with.  But, the concept works with people in general—getting together to share the joy of the coming of a Savior all those years ago.

Share the warmth.

I’m going to do that with close to a thousand people for each of the next three nights.

I’m already feeling warmer.

You?

 

“Music brings a warm glow to my vision; thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.” (Haruki Murakami)

“Furthermore, if two lie down together, they can keep each other warm,
but how can one person keep warm by himself?” (Ecclesiastes 4:11, NET)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.