When I was younger, Simeon was one of my least favorite characters in the Bible. I imagined Mary as a new mother, who had just experienced what was likely a difficult journey and childbirth experience, bringing her new baby to the temple for a blessing. And while there, a strange man approaches her and tells her that her baby is “set . . . for a sign which shall be spoken against.” Not only that, but she can also look forward to “a sword . . . [piercing] through thy own soul” (Luke 2:34-35).

My view of Simeon changed a bit in college, after studying T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Journey of the Magi.” In Eliot’s poem, the magi give so much to travel to Jesus in celebration of His birth. But along the way, they see the betrayal and violence of His death, and, not knowing, as we do, that He was born to give His life for us, they are left feeling ambivalent at the meaning of His birth—years later, the persona speaking in the poem does not know if he was led all that way for birth or death. After reading this poem, I realized that, like Eliot and the magi in the poem, we cannot separate Christ’s birth from His death: we celebrate His birth because of the glory of His life and the supreme gift of His death.

Last night after my kids were in bed, I turned to the procrastinated task of the week—writing the Christmas program for our Relief Society Christmas party tonight. We only had 3 musical numbers, and I was in charge of writing an introduction to our “Sounds of the Season” night, researching the stories behind the 3 songs to be performed, and writing brief intros to each number. In the process of my research, I read a little piece on patheos.com in which a few authors briefly shared what their favorite Christmas carols meant to them, and I was especially touched by Erin Straza’s short reflection on “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” Straza writes that she often gets to Christmas Day worn out and empty. “To combat this,” she says, “I look for special ways to be with the God who came to be with me.”

I love that phrase of Straza’s—“I look for special ways to be with the God who came to be with me.” As I wrote introductions to and the histories of the few songs in our program, I realized that, as Straza said, our Christmas carols emphasize that our God came to us. Yes, focusing on Christ’s entire mission, as Simeon and Eliot did, is necessary. But I love that Christmas lets us rejoice in, as Straza says, “this particular chapter of God’s story”—the part where He chose to come to us.

Which Christmas carol is your favorite and why? Other than Christmas music, what helps you “combat” the weariness of the season? What helps you “be with the God who came to be with [you]?”