On the Ninth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me 9 singing missionaries

I am homesick I kept thinking. I laid on the bed in the pitch black night fully clothed with a coat and a blanket over me. My feet had two pair of socks on them and I buried my head under the covers so my nose wouldn’t get icy. I peeked out a small window to see a few string of lights that were hung on a similar balcony across the way. I felt tired, cold, and terribly homesick. My mind wandered to all the wonderful things my family would be doing. They would be sitting around a gas stove sipping cider and listening to my brother play the guitar no doubt. They would be opening pajamas and then watching 24 hours of “A Christmas Story.” Not to mention all the delectable desserts and freshly baked rolls for their party.

I never thought I would succumb to jealousy but there I was hoping to be anywhere but there. It had not been all bad. During that month we had performed many Christmas concerts all over the city and even had our own Christmas party with food as close as we could get to a traditional American holiday dinner. I was spending my Christmas with people I had learned to love but for some reason I could not get over the feeling of dread as to what we would do all day.

I was a missionary in Spain and this was my first Christmas away from home. I wanted so badly to call my parents and say “hi, I miss you, come get me.” It wasn’t that I didn’t like my mission because I loved every minute of it. But the holidays were so difficult. I wanted to be with my family and friends to celebrate in the way that I always thought was best.

I fell asleep with anticipation and dread of the next day’s activities. Even though we had a free day until the afternoon we had no idea what we were going to do for that evening. No one wanted us around when they had family visiting or they were gone to their relative’s homes. No one would be in the streets to talk to and all of the shops would be closed. There was a reason that you spent the day with your family and we were forced to find refuge somewhere else for the night.

I awoke the next morning to go through our daily routine of reading, studying, and praying. My companion and I split up the chores and we spent time cleaning our apartment. Finally I sat down on the couch and let out a giant sigh. My parents had sent me a number of Christmas packages so I was more than excited to open my presents. It finally started to feel familiar as we exchanged gifts and sang some Christmas songs together.

Today was only 1 of 2 days during the year where we were allowed to call home and talk with our families for a half hour. It may seem harsh but it made talking to them all that much better when we finally did have the chance. Everyone had scheduled their times to speak to their families and because of the time difference I wouldn’t speak to them till later that night.

We came up with a few ideas of what we could do and decided to join the Elders to do some caroling. Music is such a powerful tool and I witnessed its influence on so many occasions and Christmas Day was no exception. My companion and I left to meet more missionaries to go and keep ourselves busy until the time we got to call our families.

We arrived at the subway stop we were meeting at and joined a flood of other missionaries which included my now husband Allan. That’s a whole other story! “What are we going to do?” I said. “We’re thinking of going to sing at the local hospital,” someone replied. So we walked to the hospital and chatted along the way.

When we arrived we asked an employee if we could just stand in the foyer and sing some Christmas songs. They were hesitant at first but reluctantly said yes. We had some really good singers and when we began to sing we had caught the attention of everyone there. People sat with their eyes closed and others walked up to us to listen and watch. All the emptiness I was feeling with being away from my family was replaced by music and an overwhelming sense of charity.

When we finished an employee came to us and asked if we would like to go and sing for some of the cancer patients in the pediatric unit. We readily agreed and followed them through a maze of halls until we found a brightly colored wing with toys that scattered the rooms. We quietly sang and walked through the halls while we stopped by rooms full of people. Kids looked up from their beds and parents held them tight as we sang and wished each a Feliz Navidad. We did this until it was time for us to go home.

I returned to the apartment ready for the “main event” which was my phone call home. I called home and had a wonderful time talking to my family. But when I think back to that Christmas what I remember most is how I felt singing to those children in the hospital. Music brings people together and in this case it brought me closer to people who were not my family but who temporarily took the place of my family. I am so grateful for the power of music and for what it can do for all of us.