At Christmas time, I often reflect upon one particular evening in the early 1960s. Back then, we decided to go carolling to spread the Christmas spirit which might 1 someone else's life. So we quickly 2 members, for whom the only 3 was warmth of spirit.
Soon we discovered that carolling brought various 4 . Sometimes we were greeted with open doors and open hearts, while other times, folks remained in the safety and cosiness of their homes, watching 5 through their windows.
One stop on our journey particularly 6 our memory. That night, after a couple of songs, one door swung open. A gentleman, gray-haired, tenderly 7 we go upstairs to sing for his bedridden wife. He added 8 , "She loves music and used to be an opera singer. "
We stepped briskly upward into the couple's 9 apartment. Books, records, and antique furniture whispered stories to us. I reminded myself not to stare 10 invading their privacy.
Sitting beside his wife, the gentleman gave us a 11 . Then our voices rose and lingered around their small home. Had our voices been given extra 12 and beauty for this occasion? Perhaps they had.
A smile flickered on the woman's 13 , yet beautiful face. She snuggled her head against her husband's shoulder and both of them heartily enjoyed our performance. Witnessing such a heartwarming scene, we felt it was a holy night, for we were in the 14 of love that was gentle and mild.
At that moment, we found, and maybe even 15 , the Christmas spirit.
