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You are here: Home / Musings About Aging / Stille Nacht

Stille Nacht

December 24, 2012 By Gail 4 Comments

The organist, who teases the ivories with more enthusiasm than accuracy, begins the first few notes of Silent Night.  Voices…young, old, loud, soft, good, and bad… join in with a sweet sentiment the rest of the year lacks.

I’m sitting in my childhood church surrounded by people I’ve known seemingly forever, and I can’t finish the first verse of Silent Night. Or the second, or the third.  Every time I try I sense my grandmother’s spirit next to me, I smell the lemon drops in her pocket, and I feel the soft wool of her ancient black coat brushing against my arm.  Silent Night was not only her favorite Christmas song, but my mother’s as well, and it hurts that I will never hear their voices again.  The emotions of loss pull so hard that I have to stop, swallow back tears, and be silent too.

My great-grandfather started the Giese Immanuel Lutheran church somewhere around 1905, I believe.  He uprooted his young family from fertile North Dakota farmland and made the laborious journey east by horse and wagon.  Grandma told me of the hardships, the work,  the booms and the busts.  But her father never waivered from his vision.  He started a general store, a post office, and of course, a church where family and community could gather.

I myself was baptized in that church, attended Sunday school, squirmed on the hard wooden pews when sermons seemed like endless blah-blah-blah torture instead of inspirational messages, took confirmation classes, and attended countless potluck meals in the dank, coffee-scented, church basement.

Now, firmly entrenched in adulthood—and then some!—my husband and I mostly come back for Christmas Eve services as well as the occasional wedding and funeral.  While the reason for coming back to this small country church changes, the feeling that I am a part of something unique and special does not.  My family heritage is in each lemon oil-polished board, pew, and rail.  I feel like I straddle the past and the present when I hold the thick red hymnal with the yellowing pages in my hands, and my being fills with love.

Grandma always spoke in German when she didn’t want me to know what she was saying, or when she was reaching back into her own childhood memories.  Even now, in 2012, the Giese church ministers sing Silent Night in German before asking the congregation to join in for the English version.  I try to sing, to honor Grandma and Mom, but can’t do it.

In my silence I listen for them. As the congregation lifts their voices on a cold Minnesota night, I take comfort from the echoes of Christmases past.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,

Alles schläft; einsam wacht

Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.

Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

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Filed Under: Musings About Aging

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Through my blog and website, I hope to share beauty, laughter, inspiration, aging & midlife lessons and advice on dealing with menopause. I will also devote time to integrative health and healing tips and news. I want feedback and questions because, while we may be sharing the journey, every woman has her own experience and her own story.

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Comments

  1. Claudia says

    December 30, 2012 at 2:55 pm

    My mother had an extraordinary singing voice. She was quiet and self-effacing, but when she sang, she soared. I always accompanied her, and with the lack of grace of youth, I groused about it too often. A few years ago I heard Arlo sing this song and it moved me to tears and brought my mother back to me in such detail. Your essay reminded me of that experience, so I wanted to share the lyrics of this song written by Woody Guthrie.

    I Hear You Sing Again
    Words and Music by Woody Guthrie and Janis Ian

    If I could only hear my mother sing again
    If I could close my eyes and hear your voice as then
    All the friends and family
    would sing along with me,
    and set your spirit free

    In my heart I hear you sing again
    Every note as natural as then
    and when I sing those songs
    for family and friends,
    in my heart I hear you sing again

    I know the troubled times that turned your hair to grey
    And all the tears and sorrows followed to your grave
    But deep within the heart of hunger,
    there were always melodies
    passed from you and me

    In my heart I hear you sing again
    Every note as natural as then
    and when I sing those songs
    for family and friends,
    in my heart I hear you sing again

    And it’s a long, long road I’ve come
    since my mother’s songs were heard
    But the child I can’t outrun
    still hangs on every word

    In my heart I hear you sing again
    Every note as natural as then
    and when I sing those songs
    for family and friends,
    in my heart I hear you sing again
    In my heart I hear your voice again

    Reply
    • Avatar photoGail says

      December 31, 2012 at 1:38 am

      Simply, utterly, beautiful. Thank you, Claudia.
      -Gail

      Reply
  2. Leah says

    December 31, 2012 at 2:51 am

    Beautiful detailed writting. Reading this makes me feel like I was there. Missed you guys!

    Love,

    L

    Reply
    • Avatar photoGail says

      December 31, 2012 at 3:26 am

      Hey!

      I heard you were in far away places! Welcome back, and we’d love to hear about your adventures when you get time. Here’s to hoping you’ll have a much, much, happier 2013.

      Hugs,
      Gail

      Reply

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