No gift to bring

If I was young, I’d be strong
I’d be ready all along
To give you something from within
Now I am grown, and I fear
That I might never find you here
And I have no gift to bring

All is calm, all is bright
I want to be with you tonight
Unworthy as I am
I want to share in your light
As I play my drum tonight
Though I know where I stand

Please say it’s not too late
To give my heart, to fall prostrate
What can I give, poor as I am ?
Tell me what can I do with these hands ?

This is all I’m able to write for now without having to go all misty-eyed. This vid, this song, is going to be poignant. I was always intrigued by that Christmas carol – The Little Drummer Boy – and I am a drummer myself, albeit a struggling one.

Now picture this : say I am the grown figure, the subject of the song (I’ll be using the name of the main character of CDSN – Aimée Duchemin). The subject of the song is a grown-up young woman, who remembers that God listens to children’s prayers, and wonders if she might have a place with God… now that she’s all grown up. We take the young woman’s personality into account : this kindly young woman has always yearned to play the drums well. And let’s assume that this takes place somewhere else apart from MY, because it doesn’t snow in MY. So in between the story, every now and then, there’ll be a close-up of me singing the lyrics above.

I come out from church, place flowers on mom’s niche, which is all covered in snow, and I walk alone on the snow-covered paths, back home. The lights are all off, except for a lit Christmas tree with presents underneath it, and some star-shaped Christmas lights adorning the living room. There’s a gift which grabs my attention – an unusually bulky one. I take that first, as it has been years since I actually touched a bulky gift. I carefully open the ribbon, then the box. There’s a drum, a nice pair of drumsticks (with grips), and a note :

“Dear Aimée,

If you read this, remember that I’m always in your heart. I’m looking after you and I will always love you.

*I’m sorry, I need to wipe my tears first*

I know how much you’ve longed to show me how good a drummer you were, and I know how much you’d have loved me to guide you. I’m sorry I had to go. I got this some time ago, hoping to give it to you as a surprise gift for Christmas.

Please, don’t be discouraged because I’m not around. Remember, today is a celebration of Jesus’ birth. He wants to come into your heart ; receive him. Don’t hesitate to play your drum – He’s listening. I’m listening. Don’t forget : the rhythm that you play should come from the heart, so give your heart to Him.

Merry Christmas
Love you lots.

Mom”

*okay, I broke down thrice writing this note*

Back to the story : I’m still seated by the Christmas tree. I read the note. Tears well up in my eyes. I put the note aside, strap the drum on my right shoulder and begin playing.

Memories come flowing in. Memories of my childhood. That particular time, back when I was three, when mom gave me the gift of rhythm. Happy thoughts. Sad ones. I look up to the ceiling, tears still in my eyes. I close my eyes and I pound on the drum with all that my heart can give.

I end, quite abruptly, and I break down. A heavenly light beams from outside the window…


So that's how the vid shall end.


I don't know if I'll ever feel the same banging the drums on Christmas morning. But I hope that there'd be a greater presence in my heart - His presence - so I know I won't be left unguided.