As any college student knows, there is something about coming home for Christmas. You have just survived finals, another semester is history. Maybe you haven’t been home in a while, and maybe you didn’t think you wanted to go home, but Christmas is only a few days away and you suddenly are drawn back to where you spent your childhood.
That was what that Christmas felt like to me, when I was a sophomore in college. The big tradition then, as now, for my family was the Christmas Eve service at church. We would all light our candles, the overhead lights would be turned off and we would sing Silent Night in the stillness of the holy night.
The thing is that particular year, our church was being remodeled. There was scaffolding up and down the aisles and between the pews, the decorations on the altar were sparse. To top things off our pastor had recently broken his arm and had it in a cast. Was it still a magical night? You bet. For a twenty year old, it was as magical as it could get.
I took these pictures over my lunch hour today. They might have turned out better had I turned on the lights, but being all alone in this big ol' church, I didn't want to take a chance on disturbing anything.
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