For unto us..the child.



It was not a silent night/ There was blood on the ground/You could hear a woman cry/In the alleyways that night/On the streets on David’s town

And the stable was not clean/And the cobblestones were cold/And little Mary full of grace/With the tears upon her face/ Had no mother’s hand to hold

It was a labor of pain/It was a cold sky above/But for the girl on the ground in the dark/With every beat of her beautiful heart /It was a labor of love

Noble Joseph at her side/Callused hands and weary eyes/There were no midwives to be found/On the streets of David’s town/In the middle of the night

So he held her and he prayed/Shafts of moonlight on his face/For the baby in her womb/He was the maker of the moon/He was the author of the faith         

                                                                                                                       That could make the mountains move

 

It was a labor of  pain/It was a cold sky above/But for the girl on the ground in the dark/With every beat of her beautiful heart/It was a labor of love

For little Mary full of grace/With the tears upon her face/It was a labor of love

It was not a silent night                                                                         

On the streets of David’s town..


Songwriters: Cunningham Grant Evan, Davis Christopher

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About JJ's song

My freshman year of college, my English prof was fond of saying "A writer writes, always." I found him to be desperately profound until Wikipedia became a cultural staple some years later and I learned that was not an original quote, but rather one he had ripped off from that Billy Crystal movie "Throw Momma from the train." I admit this threw me. If you're going to quote a movie (and you're talking to someone whose entire household can quote "The Princess Bride" backwards and forwards), and you're not even going to credit said movie ( "HALLO! My name is Inigo Montoya.."), at least let it be a decent movie. I'm not hating on Billy. I'm just saying..not his best work. Could he not glean some inspiring gem from "When Harry met Sally"? But I digress. I love words. I love them in the nerdiest coke-bottle glasses, pocket protector kind of way. There's such a pure beauty, a ballet of cadence when you're writing and you've hit upon the exact right word producing the exact right sound...sweet, sweet alliteration. The marriage of that rise and fall, auditory ebb and flow of our spoken language creates a type of symphony as beautiful as can ever be composed. (My husband is rolling his eyes as he reads this. It should be noted here that he finds Jim Carrey hilarious. 'Nuff said.) I started writing www.abendingtree.wordpress.com shortly after returning to the real world from months of inpatient tratment for anorexia. I was targeting a specific audience, sure, but also working things out for myself. This branched out organically into purging myself (sorry) of angst related to childhood abuse and self harm, both highly prevalent in the eating disorder community. I still write pieces for abendingtree but rarely publish..such a perfectionist am I that when the aforementioned exact perfect word eludes me, my work will be tabled. Last January though. Last January I was raped. Last January I was raped and beaten up and tossed half naked in a stairwell. Last February I found out I was pregnant. Last September, six weeks early, we welcomed a 7lb. 7oz boy with huge blue eyes and fine, fuzzy dark hair and deep dimples. In him I see how God spared my life. With him I am reminded of when He used this tiny human to pull me from my ever darkening spiral. Watching my husband blow raspberries on his round little tummy and rock him to sleep, nuzzling his neck, I see the love Christ has for us. From our earliest beginnings. Such love. The fondness for Jim Carrey can be overlooked in these moments. Joshua. We named our son Joshua. It means: Jehovah saves. No kidding. How could we name him anything else? (Also, everyone else shot down the name Finn which I thought was super cute.) My newest blog will be our journey with him. It may be slow going, but I've got a start.. Writers lay our offerings humbly before our readers who we can only hope will be moved. Will laugh. Learn. Pray. Hurt. Wonder. Love. Grieve. Eat. LIVE. And heal. I hope at some point you'll do all of the above. Thank you for reading. In His truth. "Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." William Wordsworth
This entry was posted in agape, American Sign Language, ASL, Bethlehem, celebrations, Christian, Christianity, Christmas, deaf, faith, God, grace, hard of hearing, holiday, interpretation, interpreting, Labor of love, life, love, me, music, other, performance, Personal, Personal, random, sign language, sign language interpreting, Silent night, Virgin Mary, worship and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to For unto us..the child.

  1. JJ's song says:


    Thank you Leilani. LOVED this song. And she sang it so beautifully..the least I could do was try and show that.

  2. Leilani says:

    Jen, I LOVE watching you sign! I remember this Christmas Eve service, and being so blessed by your signing this song, and I am being blessed again to see it again!

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