THE 10 MINUTE ENCOURAGER
by
Elizabeth Baker

‘Cause Angels Can’t Sing

It was going to be a very bad Christmas. In fact, it would probably be the worst Christmas any ten-year-old boy ever had. Ever!

Kadyn slumped in his chair and only half listened as his teacher droned on and on. It was already worse than the year his measles itched so much he couldn’t wear the Superman pajamas his aunt sent from Hawaii. It was even worse than last year when he finally admitted there really wasn’t any Santa Claus.

The kids in school had teased him since kindergarten telling him he was too old for that “baby stuff.” That year he resisted their taunts and clung stubbornly to his faith. It wasn’t until the next that unsettling questions began to grow. For two years after that he struck a bargain with himself. On one hand, he assured his taunting friends that he was only pretending to believe; on the other hand, deep inside a shameful corner of his heart, he held on to the tiniest glimmer of hope. Finally, last Christmas the battle came to an end. There really was no magical place where elves made toys and a jolly man with a white beard kept a list of who was naughty and who was nice.

Something magical died that year and although it would one day be replaced by adult hopes built on more solid ground, this year the world was a little grayer and a little sadder than he ever thought Christmas could be. Adding to the miserable holiday, his parents informed him that the family would be moving before the first of the year. Packing boxes filled the space where a large tree once stood and the small, artificial thing leaning in the corner hardly looked like Christmas at all.

Then, about the time he felt that nothing could happen to make Christmas worse, it did. The proof was under his chair.

“Kadyn, you’re not paying attention!” Mr. Gather’s voice was stern. “I would think that my first-chair cello I could at least be depended on not to fall asleep during rehearsals even if you are two years younger than everyone else.” The rest of the orchestra snickered.

“I wasn’t asleep. . . sir.”

“Then cheer up. You’ve been moping since I announced your name as winner of the solo competition!”

That was true. But, his mood wasn’t his fault. It was his teacher’s. The moment Mr. Gather announced his name as winner, he also handed him a box that instantly changed his delight to regret. Ever since that moment he had been looking at the floor and dreading the coming holidays.

The rest of the day passed slowly and when the final bell rang Kadyn sauntered back to the band hall. Gathering his backpack, gym clothes, instrument and the hated box, he waited for his Mom to pick him up. When a small boy plays a big cello, it’s useless to think of riding the bus.

“Hey, Kadyn, how did it go today?” his mother cheerfully greeted him.

“Ok, I guess,” he grumbled as they loaded the suburban for the trip home.

“How did the solo competition turn out?”

“I sort-a won.”

“Wow! That is great!” she tousled his hair. Kadyn hated that. “I guess Mr. Grant sees now that allowing you to play with the Junior High orchestra was the right thing to do. You’re good!”

Kadyn didn’t answer. He knew he was an exceptional cello player. Good enough to play with the big kids. Probably good enough to get a scholarship. One day he’d play in a big city symphony. Or even tour the world. And, when he did, he would wear a tuxedo not a dumb costume. Only opera singers wore dumb costumes.

“What’s in the box?” his mom asked, noticing the extra baggage.

He had to say something and, sadly, the only thing he could think of at the moment was the truth. “It’s my elf costume for the concert.” He explained with down cast eyes and a weary sigh.

“Oh, I remember!” His mother brightened. “They did that last year. The winner of the solo contest sits right in the middle of the stage and a spot light shines on him. Just think! This year it will be shining on you!” She paused a moment before continuing. “Are they going to use the set that looks like Santa’s workshop again? You’ll be so cute!”

“But, Mom, I don’t WANT to be a cute elf! All the other guys get to dress up. I’m gonna be the only one looking dopey!”

“Come on, Kadyn. It’s only for a couple of hours and it’s a school tradition.”

“Can’t I at least leave the pointy ears at home?”

Her frown was answer enough.

One dreary day after another passed until at last the weekend came with bright, clear sunshine and brisk cold air and he began to feel a little better about life. He still hated the costume and it was still going to be a lousy Christmas, but at least he had two days without school and his friend, Matthew, came on Saturday. It wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that life turned somber once more.

Even though his parents were busy preparing to move, they wanted to say goodbye to close friends. So, it wasn’t surprising when they invited the Pastor Gibbs home for lunch after Sunday morning worship.

Dr. Jonathan S. Gibbs was as stiff and formal as his name and Kadyn didn’t like him very much. The counselors at the school told him his vocabulary was roughly twice that of the average ten-year-old, but he still had trouble understanding much of what Dr. Gibbs said and the man never seemed to smile. He ate his peas and chicken casserole as quickly as good manners would allow hoping to get away from the table as soon as possible.

That was when it happened. Kadyn could hardly swallow as he listened to the adults around him. What they said couldn’t be true. Surely not.

The grownups had been saying something about Christmas and how sad it was that tradition and myth was getting mixed with the truth. Dr. Gibbs spoke. “Just take carols for example. Even the most traditional offerings, like Hark the Harold Angels Sing don’t tell the full truth. Angels don’t sing. Several times in Holy Writ they speak antiphonally but that is all. Angels don’t have wings and they probably can’t sing a note.”

Kadyn’s fork remained frozen in mid air and his eyes grew wide. No angel songs? It was unthinkable!

Across the table his father noticed his son’s reaction and tried to soften the blow. “Well, I understand that Seraphim have wings and maybe angels can sing even if the Bible never mentions that they do.”

Dr. Jonathan S. Gibbs frowned. He was not accustomed laymen contradicting his judgment. Kadyn excused him himself and slipped away to his room where the soft sounds of cello could soon be heard.

It wasn’t until that night when he was tucked in bed that the subject came up again. There was a soft knock at the door. “Ready to say goodnight?” It was his dad’s voice and he pushed open the door with a smile before Kadyn could answer. The hug and rough beard against his face felt good even though ten-year-olds never admitted such a thing.

“I noticed that what Pastor Gibbs said today sort of upset you.” He opened the subject hoping for a response, but his son simply blinked at him with a non-committal gaze. “Well, just in cases you might be wondering,” he continued, “one of the hardest things in life is dividing what is real and lasting from what is not.” He tucked the cover more tightly around the boy and hoped he would express his doubts and fears. Silence.

“I guess that is one way that we grow,” his dad continued. “We learn what is real and what is not and find tools to help us figure out which is which.”

“Tools?” Kadyn spoke at last.

“Yeah. One tool is learning who we can trust. Another is knowing the difference between games and serious discussion. We also use the tool of personal experience. And, we learn which books tell the truth and which ones do not.” There was no comment coming from the bed, but at least he had the boy’s attention. “Kadyn, God has gifted you with a brilliant mind and strong musical talent, but learning what is real takes time.” Still no comment. “Remember that you can always trust a Bible.”

“Does the Bible really say angels can’t sing?”

“Well, it never says they can, but then it doesn’t say they can’t if they want to.” He smiled and tousled the dark hair of his son. “I guess we will just have to wait until we get to heaven before we find out for sure.”

When the night of the concert came, Kaden dutifully struggled into the elf costume, complete with pointed ears, and took his place behind the curtain surrounded by the cardboard Santa’s workshop. The school orchestra had finished their performance and the stringed instruments were silent. It was almost time. He could hear the soft pat and shuffle of feet as little girls dressed like snowflakes danced to recorded music. Then the sounds stopped and with a silent majesty, the curtain rose as spotlights temporarily blinded his view of the waiting audience. He stretched his fingers across the expensive bow and took a deep breath, as a child’s heart lifted in prayer.

“Jesus, it’s sometimes hard to know what is real and what is not. There is no Santa and maybe angels can’t even sing. But, I trust my Dad. I trust the Bible. And, I can trust what I feel in my heart. You are real even if the other things are not. So, please listen to my song ‘cause if angels can’t sing, at least I can wish you a Merry Christmas with my music.”

Kaden lifted the familiar notes of a carol higher and stronger into the air, Silent night, holy night, son of God, love’s pure light, … all is calm, all is bright. Then softly, so as only to be heard by One, he whispered, “Happy Birthday, Jesus.”

*****

For information about Elizabeth's books and to read other stories visit her at: www.elizabethbakerbooks.com