When I was young, we had a Christmas Eve tradition. We would go to the Candlelight Service at our church. I loved it. We would dress up and the entire service centered around singing Christmas Carols and taking Communion (my two favorite parts of church) and then we would walk outside together as a congregation, holding our candles and singing to the stars. It was heavenly to me. While still little, I felt big with my belief and the beauty of shared faith.Afterwards, we would head home, put on our PJs, and sit around the tree. My parents let us open one gift and then we would turn on the TV. For many years, "The Bells of St. Mary's" played. My father would turn off all the lights and the five of us would bunch up on the couch lit only by the lights of the tree and the TV. My brothers would doze off quickly but not I. The story of the modern priest and the old-school (but loving) nun learning to live and work together for the good of their parish was beautiful to me. Listening to Bing Crosby sing and watching Ingrid Bergman try to teach a bullied boy to box seemed the perfect end to a perfect night.When it was done, my parents would tell us to go upstairs as it was late and Santa would soon be on his way. I would, however, always ask for a few more minutes and they would turn off the TV and allow me to sit on the couch in the dark and watch the lights of the tree. As I sat, I would will myself to sleep hoping to be carried and tucked in. Rarely did that happen but my father obliged the artifice and carried me nonetheless."It's a Wonderful Life" has long since replaced the Christmas Eve broadcast repertoire but to me, "The Bells of St. Mary's" means Christmas Eve.Eighteen days until Christmas...Click the pic to see my Advent Calendar.