Last night was the annual elementary Christmas program at our school. I had multiple reasons to get there early and be in the front row. Several of our grandchildren were starring in the production. And, one of the teachers responsible for the whole thing was our daughter, Felicity. (The other teacher was my good friend and former mentee, Debbie)

I didn’t expect a great deal from the event. We would all be proud if the children made it to the stage, remembered at least half of the words, and smiled for a picture now and then. I never expected to be brought to tears by “The Drummer Boy.” But something happened in the room when those children began to rum-pa-pa-pum. Their faces were so serious and sincere. As if singing the song was a real offering they had brought to the little King in the Manager. I felt tears stinging my eyes and I was challenged to think about all kinds of things in my life. As they bowed their heads before the final verse, I lifted up a silent prayer that I, too, would play my drum for Him. Because I want to see Him smile.