At church, we feel our fragile hopes, together. Raising your voice along with others somehow redirects the gloom, even redeems it a little
I tell myself I’m not a crier, but Christmas carols always prove me wrong.
I’m old school. By “carols”, I don’t mean the jolly background tunes to your Christmas shop, still less the shiny, happy singalong that is Carols in the Domain. It sounds bah humbug but I’m a purist who’s stingy with my limited tears. Those songs won’t make me weep. Trad carols, however, will.
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