It’s tough outside, but it’s love in here
Reasons I cry at my kids’ Christmas Concerts & an invite to January's Soul Session
Hi, I’m Debbie, a spiritual director, writer, host and mother based in Glasgow. I offer stories, ponderings and gentle invitations to share a moment with your soul.
Well hello,
December finds the calendar full of ‘fun’ and expectation. The Christmas jumper Fridays started on the 29th November in my kids’ school. So far I’ve attended a school violin performance, a Music School Christmas Show, the school Jingle Bell Rock performance, my mum’s choir’s Christmas performance and the Nursery Carols and Songs. At last year’s nursery performance, I found myself crouched with the kids on stage to support my reserved twins with their debut. This year they stood tall on the stage with their teachers and waved at me for a full six minutes when they found my face amongst the proud parents and carers.
I’m glad for the flexibility to be able to attend these events, to witness the growth and performances of my kids and their peers. The creativity and enthusiasm abound, and yet I know it’s not the level of musical skill that brings tears to my eyes. Here are some of the potential reasons why I am crying, once again, at my kids’ Christmas Concert.
Momentarily there is a room full of adults collectively cheering on their children and their peers. We’re all holding our breath for the girl who’s forgotten her lines, or the boy who’s overwhelmed. I’ve heard it said that ‘there is no such thing as other people’s children’: there are only children. This seems radical in our individualist society, but in the collective gaze of encouragement and support towards the stage, the potential kinship is tangible.
The music school my children attend is run as a charity by a team of dedicated tutors, volunteers and parents. The carefully forged relationships become visible at a concert. The percussionist tutor encouraging his team of drummers at each rest, and a warm smile behind the baton of the focussed (and slightly fierce) conductor. When I have a chance to quietly observe, I’m grateful for the tutors, the teachers, the nursery staff who infuse their professions with care (and maybe even love).
There’s a spread of ages in the music school and I also notice the teenage musicians. They are poised, dedicated, and showing up on stage with their varying levels of confidence. I swallow back my fears of what the teenage years will hold for my crew, and find hope in these young people helping shepherd the wee ones, chatting to their parents and singing their hearts out. Maybe we’ll be OK.
Earlier this year my eldest son sang in a competition with the music school in the Glasgow Concert hall. The judge delighted in his role, giving thoughtful and encouraging feedback to each performing group. He told our choir ‘I really believed you wanted to sell me a watermelon.’ He then said to one ensemble ‘and why does it matter what we’re doing here? Because we are learning to listen to each other.’ We witness the performers tune in to one another, learning to create something together.
There is of course the music itself too. Those old familiar Christmas songs with their layers of nostalgia, the clarinets, the trumpets, the innocent choir voices. I was surprised to find tears in my eyes watching a class, in which I did not even know one child. They sang ‘DJ Play a Christmas Song’ which it turns out is from Cher’s 2023 Christmas album. They swayed, we all clapped in time as they joyfully sang
DJ, play a Christmas song
I wanna be dancing all night long
It's tough outside, but it's love in here
And that's the only thing I want this year
It’s tough outside, but it’s love in here. Pass the tissues, I’m gone.
In these moments we’re together, a whole spectrum of families, beliefs, life experiences. We’re together, cheering on our kids. We’re together and that hits a soul-deep chord in me, the dream of community. Even if it’s temporary and fuelled by tinsel and chocolate coins, I’m here for that glimpse of togetherness, and yes I will cry.
May we be grateful for the dedicated ones,
proud of the growing ones,
and may we be the ones moving towards wholeness and togetherness.
In the New Year…
I do not love New Year’s Resolutions. But I cannot resist the invitation of the turn of the year to step back and consider my life. Last year I shared some of my favourite ways to gather the year, if you’re looking for inspiration.
I always read back over my journal of the year, noticing patterns, shifts and unnoticed gifts. But it’s hard to dedicate time to this while there’s also the loud festivities and family time and everyone-off-school-and-work. I remind myself that this reflection is ongoing and does not have to be completed by the time the clock strikes midnight on 31st December. I’m setting some time aside on Sunday 12th January, and I wonder if you’d like to join me, either in person in the afternoon, or online in the evening.
This will be the usual Soul Session set up: we’ll have some time together to share thoughts, questions and intentions. Then we’ll have time alone to journal or draw or create and process. I’ll have writing and creative prompts on offer for looking back and looking forward but you are welcome to bring your own questions to sit with too. We’ll have another circle sharing time at the end, where we deepen our individual experiences as we notice connections with one another, but there is no pressure to share. You are welcome along whatever your faith or beliefs.
So come along with your questions and share some quiet reflection and warm conversation.
May we all savour the glimpses of love, joy and peace in these days,
With love to you for Christmas, and New Year when it comes,
Debbie
Gorgeous, Debbie! You put into words how I felt this morning during Phoebe's Christmas concert!!