Growing  up in the United States, I never really knew what Boxing Day was, other than the day after Christmas, in which one wore off the exhaustion of overindulgence from the day before, or created more by shopping after-Christmas sales.

Since I married Ken, I’ve learned a bit more about Boxing Day, and come to appreciate it as a holiday on its own.

Boxing Day is primarily celebrated by countries in the Commonwealth, including Canada, Great Britain, and Australia. There are many explanations as to what exactly Boxing Day celebrates, but they all boil down to this: giving to those who are less fortunate. In contrast to the “getting” of Christmas day, everyone chooses belongings to give away. It’s a day to box up old clothes, books, household items, etc. and donate them to charitable organizations. (It’s also a great time to do so for tax purposes as well.) The consumeristic mindset that we all try to escape, with varying degrees of success, on Christmas day is purged on Boxing Day. In fact, where Ken grew up, stores continued to be closed on Boxing Day in honor of the holiday. (I actually think I like that!)

So, Ken and I celebrated Boxing Day today. We went through our closets, bookshelves, and basement and took a hefty load of donations to Goodwill this morning. It’s a great tradition that we plan on continuing with our Congolese kids too!

How do you celebrate Boxing Day?

You know, when we think of Christmas, we think of one thing.

Maybe you do to.

Bells! Bing-bong! Bing-bong! Bing-bong! Bing-bong!

Ah, the SNL Sweeney sisters said it well, didn’t they?

Today was a cool but sunny day to enjoy Belmont’s Christmas Carillon concert. In case you’ve not heard of a carillon, it is an instrument composed of at least 23 bells, and is played by a keyboard and foot pedals. They are typically enclosed in towers. There are approximately 180 in North America, so they are a fairly rare instrument.

We were surprised that the outdoor concert was a popular Christmas Eve event for Nashville. (Where were all you people last night?) Though there wasn’t much to see, because the carillon is enclosed in Belmont’s bell tower, the sounds were beautiful, and a perfect accompaniment to Christmas Eve anticipation. Belmont’s tower was constructed in 1853 and has served as a water tower, a signal tower in the Civil War, before it became the first carillon tower in the state of Tennessee in 1928.

Another special Christmas Eve treat was lunch from Nashville’s popular Deg Thai food truck, which happened to be the ONLY food truck out today and was just blocks from Belmont. The noodlicious lunch hit the spot before we faced the chilly weather for the concert!

As I sat listening to the carillon concert, it reminded me of one of my favorite Christmas stories.

It was in western Europe in the 1600s, when carillons were still rare, but bells were being accurately tuned in the foundries so that beautiful melodies could be played from the bell towers where they were to be installed.

It was in a grand cathedral in what is now Belgium where a new set of bells had just been installed that a Bishop realized that while he had a grand set of bells, he had no one to play them. He especially desired to have the bells ring out on Christmas morning, celebrating the birth of Christ.

So the Bishop sent word across the land that a bellringer was needed, and requested anyone with experience to come to audition. In those days, word was slow to travel, but eventually men from across the land came to try their hand at ringing the majestic bells.

Unfortunately, because tuned bells were so new in those days, the auditioners lacked experience and talent. The Bishop became discouraged. Time was running short, as Christmas was just a few days away. He was about to give up hope, when a young man approached the rectory door, and gave a loud knock.

The Bishop came to the door, and was surprised to see a young man with no arms standing before him, asking to audition for the position of bell ringer. Hesitant, but not wanting to discourage the young man, he allowed him the opportunity to audition.

The Bishop and the armless bellringer entered the belfry, and the young man began to play — by striking the bells with his face! While shocked at first, the Bishop quickly realized that the music being played was some of the most beautiful he had ever heard. The Bishop tried to stop the man to tell him he was hired, but being distracted, the bellringer slipped and fell from the bell tower to his death.

A small crowd had already begun to gather, first to hear the bells, and now to the side of the now deceased bell ringer. The Bishop flew down the flight of stairs to join the crowd. Someone in the crowd asked, “Who was this man?”

The Bishop’s face fell. “I did not even have the chance to ask him his name,” the Bishop said sadly. “But his face sure rings a bell.”

Alas, the Bishop had not only lost his newfound friend, but the only bell ringer he could find. Christmas would be doubly dark this year.

But the next day, the Bishop heard a familiar loud knock on the door of the Rectory. When he opened the door, he saw a strangely familiar face. “I am the brother of the man who fell to his death from the bell tower yesterday,” the man said. “I would consider it an honor to attempt to play the bells at Christmas in my brother’s place.”

The Bishop was shocked not only at the man’s resemblence, but at his willingness to play the very instrument that led to his brother’s death. Of course, the Bishop wanted the brother to audition, and so they climbed the steps to the top of the belfry.

Both were winded at the top of the stairs, but the brother clearly moreso than the Bishop. Still, he wanted to play the bells. He began to grab for the ropes and play every bit as beautifully as his brother, but he was clearly becoming more and more winded as he played. Finally, in the midst of his first song, he clutched his chest, staggered, and lost consciousness, falling from the bell tower to the ground below.

Again, a crowd had gathered as the man took his last breaths, and as the Bishop arrived, someone asked, “Bishop, this is a terrible loss. Who was this man?”

The Bishop’s face was downcast as he confessed, “I do not know his name, but he’s a dead ringer for his brother.”

🙂

I hope this Christmas, you find time to laugh, to enjoy some good food, good music, and spend time with those you love. But most of all, I hope you find time to celebrate the wonderous gift of the birth of Christ!

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Tonight’s Christmas celebration was a free concert at the Frist Museum of Art. We’ve attended concerts at the Frist before, and have had a good time, and this one looked to be a great way to celebrate Christmas.

We parked in a free spot at Cummins station, and made the short hustled hike over, but realized once we got there that we were a few minutes late. We listened for music coming from the lobby, where we had attended concerts before, and there was none. We looked around and finally succumb to the humiliation of asking. The attendant said that the concert was in the cafe. So we rushed back down to the cafe, where there were six people and no musician.

We asked the waitress if we were in the right spot for the concert, and she said she thought so but it looked like the musician wasn’t going to show up.

WHAT?! But this is the 11th day of Christmas and I have no back up plan!

(I should have seen it as a Providential opportunity.)

As we were speculating about traffic, illness, or just plain forgetfulness, a man carrying a speaker walked in. “We had set up in the lobby,” he muttered. Sure enough, the musician was at the Frist, but in the wrong area. She was heading toward us. A family of three seized the opportunity and  bailed.

So, we faced a dilemma: Do we stay for a concert with all three other people, or do we cut our losses and head out? We decided to stay. I sipped on a hot chocolate while Ken dug into a piece of chocolate cake, while they set up. 

Finally, 30 minutes late, the concert started. The artist introduced herself to all five of us and prepared to sing. She set up the song, and waited for the audio track to begin.

Nothing.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, during which I identified all available exits, and ranked them in the least embarrassing to leave through, she gave up on the sound system and began singing a capella.

Her lovely lyric soprano voice broke the uncomfortable silence. Well, the silence except for the three people in the back who continued to talk full-volume during her song.

The music did attract a few more passersby, mostly museum staff, and the attendance topped out at a whopping 10 people. Still not enough for us to be able to leave with any sort of anonymity. In fact, she was sitting between 2 of the 3 exits. She made great eye contact with the audience, but since there were so few of us, we met her full gaze approximately every 8.23 seconds. She might as well have been sitting at our table belting out Christmas tunes.

After the first song, her sound man was able to get her audio tracks to work, and the concert got underway. A fine selection of “Frosty the Snowman,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” and “Deck the Halls,” as well as a few other songs, before she turned to more serious music of “Silent Night,” “Away in  Manger,” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” While her voice was lovely, the more she sang, the more she depended on her sheet music for words. Then for rhythm.  By “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” I was convinced either she was having a stroke or was completely unprepared for the concert. She invited us to sing along, I suspect to drown out the fact that she had no idea what she was doing, but by this point, we were back down to six very confused people in the audience. No one was about to utter a musical peep.

At the end of “Bethlehem,” she declared she was going to take a five-minute break, and then listed at least ten other songs that she planned to sing after the break. We were surprised that many Christmas songs even existed! Maybe she was going to start doubling up? Since she hadn’t gotten the lyrics right the first time, would she even remember what she had sung?

Then we saw our chance –a light at the end of the tunnel that was either our freedom or an oncoming train. Fortunately, another audience member created a diversion by approaching her with a question, and we were able to duck out into the December night nearly unnoticed.

So, it wasn’t the best Christmas concert ever. Okay, it may have been one of the worst. Into every 12 days of Christmas a little “bah humbug” must fall. On the other hand, we may be giggling about this one for years. Maybe it was a burst of Christmas joy after all.

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Today’s Christmas journey kept us closer to home. I think some of the best of Christmas decor in Nashville is in Opryland Hotel, which is less than 5 miles from our house. With a new walkway from free parking at the still-being-restored Opry Mills mall, it’s easier and cheaper than ever to visit.

If you’ve never been, it’s hard to explain how fabulous this hotel is, and they spare no expense or attention to detail in decorating for Christmas. The lush landscaping indoors with glass ceilings creates hundreds of thousands of square feet of beautiful atria. More than 2 million lights, which take four months to hang, enhance the climate-controlled indoor labyrinth of walkways, and the outdoor drive-through Nativity is gorgeous. Scripture is even read aloud to remind guests of the real meaning of Christmas. The gift shops are always fun to look through, and the restaurants are amazing — although no longer within our budget.

It’s hard to believe that all the beauty in Opryland Hotel was flooded by 10 feet if water 18 months ago, and was closed for 6 months for $215 million in renovations and restoration. We’re so glad Opryland came back, and can’t wait for Opry Mills to fully reopen. After all, they’re some of the best free spots to visit in Nashville!

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