But He answered and said to them, “I tell you that if these should keep silent, the stones would immediately cry out."
Eiko is one who barely speaks now. Her frame is tiny, and while she is not as tidy as she once was, her thin grey hair is always neatly pulled back in a bun and held with a clip adorned with small flowers. I have never seen her when she was not drinking a cup of tea.
"Good morning, Eiko. How are you?"
"I really am not sure yet." She says this without a hint of sarcasm.
I tell her how nice she looks and she smiles. I also tell her that we will be singing Christmas carols. I place the sheet in front of her as she sips her tea.
As we sing, she does not touch her song sheet, but she does put her cup down, begins to move her hands to the music, nods her head, and actually sings some of the words. She recites the Lord's prayer.
Afterwards, I begin to gather up the song sheets and say my good-byes. Even though she had not looked at it, Eiko asks if she can keep her sheet. She has never asked that before. She tells me that the songs were very beautiful. She wishes us a Merry Christmas, picks up her cup, and sips her tea once more.
From our first service in December until the last, we sing carols. While more than one pastor has asked me how do I manage to sing the same carols all month without getting bored, December is actually a mystical time for me. This is when the ancient ones, who are growing silent, sing. They may not remember all the words, and often they can no longer read, but together, we get the words out. Together, we are faithful, and we sing.
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