One of the loveliest Christmas vignettes I can think f happened years ago, probably in the early 1990's, I am not terribly sure of the exact year.

At that time, my Methodist church had a pastor who had grown up in a tight-knit Polish Catholic community in Pennsylania coal-mining country. He became Methodist, but still loved the "midnight Mass" tradition for Christmas Eve. The organist was given the night off, so he always had to arrange some other music for the small, sparsely attended service.

In our church was Araxi, an old woman of unknown age who was an Armenia orphaned by the Turks. She was discovered by the Arax River, and named for it. She still sang, well into old age, in a clear. piping soprano. That year we also had a Pastor-Intern, Rich. He played the guitar, and was the son of a Peruvian mother and an American defence-contractor father. There was MaryEllen, a beginning cellist in her middle-aged years. And there was me. We were to be the music for the evening.

At the proper time in the service, Mary Ellen and Rich played cello and guitar respectively, and accompanied Araxi as she sang the first verse of "Silent Night" in Armenian. I then sang a verse in the original German (learned for that night), Rich sang a verse in Spanish, then, with Mary Ellen, we all sang the last verse in English, in 4-part harmony.

It was sweet, mellow, acoustic, multi-cultural before that term being main-stream and overused, and in the dark of a small chapel in cold December, something that wrote itself onto my heart forever.

Sleep in heavenly peace.