The Candlelight Carol Sing was once quite the Brunstetter Christmas tradition until that fateful eve when my Mom accidentally lit my Dad on fire. It’d been a while since we’d gone, but last night, we returned, and I’m so glad we did. It’s basically self-explanatory, but I had forgotten the best part: towards the middle,  all of the wee ones get invited to the front to the sit with the pastor and tell the story of Christmas. It’s basically a bunch of kids in turtlenecks shouting JESUS! and FRANKINCENSE! and UNINTELLIGIBLE CHILD THING! into a microphone, but also, it’s the best. I remember being one of the wee ones seated up front: just far enough away from the pastor so that he wouldn’t call on me, but close enough so I could feel apart of it and ensure that my Christmas plaid  would make it to the very corner of the big screen,  so I could pretend to not notice that I was being filmed, but instead, focus on spelling words backwards in my head, which I literally just remembered I used to do, which probably somehow explains my penchant for run-on sentences.