I'm really terrible at updating, I know. The series is now going to be spread out over the entirety of the Christmas season. There's just been so much going on over this break that I hardly have time for writing.
I used this song last year, but it's on of my favorites and I decided to use the original Latin version this year. Frank Sinatra has a good version that everyone should year at least once.
As always, I don't own POI or the music, but Reagan is from my imagination.
John situated himself into the wooden pew as he watched his new "number" approach her group of friends at the church's alter. Reagan O'Neil was the fourteen-year-old daughter of a murder witness. Her father had agreed to go into protective custody as long as his daughter would be protected. Luckily, Detective Carter had landed the case and was able to confirm for Reese that Reagan was indeed a victim. Honestly, John felt bad for the girl. Her father was her only living parent and now she would most likely be spending Christmas with an aunt without him. But Reagan was bearing it as best she could and had, against Reese's better judgment, convinced him to bring her to choir practice to prepare for the Christmas Eve special.
As John surveyed the small sanctuary he tried to remember the last time he had willingly been in a church. The front door was the only entrance, the windows lining the sides of the building had lace curtains hanging in them, and the raised alter was the roost to a small table with a golden crucifix. There was an area for lighting candles to the left, next to the pulpit, and a small confessional booth on the right. It was hardly the grand Catholic church he grew up in. Reagan had explained that the old parish church had been larger and prettier, but it was burned down in the middle of a gang war.
Adeste Fideles laeti triumphantes
(O come, all ye faithful. Joyful and triumphant)
Veníte, veníte in Bethlehem
(O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem)
Natum vidéte, Regem Angelorum;
(Come let us behold Him, born the King of Angels)
Veníte adoremus
Veníte adoremus
Veníte adoremus Dóminum.
(O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord)
John's eyes snapped to the front of the church, searching till he found Reagan in her group, positioned in the center, in front of the alter. Movement to his right caught his eye and every muscle tensed in anticipation of having to bolt towards his young charge. But it was only the old priest of the parish, who had just dismissed his last parishioner from confession. The priest was bent forward, listening intently to the group of girls. Reese felt drawn to join the old man, and as he approached the pew, the priest scooted down to make room. They both listened as the song continued,
Cantet nunc io chorus Angelórum
(Sing choirs of Angels)
cantet nunc aula caelestium
(Sing in exultation)
Gloria in excelsis Deo!
(Glory to God in the highest!)
"They're wonderful, aren't they?" John had been so focused on the music he had forgotten the priest was there.
"Yes," Reese replied. "They are quite good."
"It's simply amazing how resilient children are," the priest continued. "They can get knocked down a hundred times and get back up each time."
John simply nodded, a little curious as to where the old man was going with his speech.
"They chose this song for a reason you know. They chose this song to remind the faithful around them that even though we get knocked down the Father wants us to still come to Him. He wants us to come to Him with joy and an attitude of victory . . ."
"You get all of that from a Christmas carol?" Reese didn't bother checking the skepticism in his voice, but he belatedly remembered that you should never interrupt while someone else is talking. He looked sheepishly at the priest, who only had a patient smile on his face.
"Yes, I get that from a Christmas carol. What is Christmas, if not the celebration of how our Lord came to give us a chance at a victorious and joy filled life?"
Reese thought over what little he actually remembered from Sunday school and the handful of sermons he heard in his adult life. The priest had a point.
Nothing more was said between the two as the choir moved on to practice other songs. But Reese continued to think. He had won a lot of battles recently, but emotionally he didn't feel the victory of them. There was something missing. Joss had tried talking to him about it, but he didn't want to listen. I really should though, he thought to himself. After all, she was the optimist out of the two of them.
Soon enough, choir practice ended and as Reagan made her way towards the two men, the priest stood to excuse himself,
"I'm Father Aidan," the man said shaking Reese's hand.
"I'm John. Thank you for your company, it's made me think." The older man chuckled.
"I hope so, and if you ever want to share some of those thoughts over a cup of coffee, I'm always here or at the parish house next door."
John nodded and stood to meet Reagan as the priest walked away. Maybe I'll come back. After all, a cup of coffee never hurts.
