Christmas is quickly approaching.  As a child, I adored the holiday season.  It seemed so magical.  And food was everywhere.  I remember my great-grandmother starting her baking campaign.  You know I was all for it.  The deep freezer would be covered with delicious cakes.  Out would come the bowls of oranges and nuts.  The fancy white Christmas tree would make its debut.  We were ready for Christmas. As I got older, Christmas changed.  My brother started the tradition of praying before we opened our presents.  He would tell Jesus happy birthday, and then we would indulge in ripping paper off the presents like mad men.  We would go to Christmas…

My church had our Christmas Cantata Wednesday night, and it was beautiful.  The choir was dressed in all white.  They were intent on singing praises to our King.  And sing, they did.  However, the standout musical moment came when a teeny tiny girl entered center stage. She was so small that you could barely see her face above the poinsettias that lined the front of the altar.  A recording of “Who Would Imagine a King?” began to play, and she sang along with the recording.  Once she was all cued up, the recording faded away, and it was just her and the pianist. When I say she sang this song…