The Therapy Booth

resting, doodling and holding love signs

Shall I Play for You Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum

on December 24, 2012

The Little Drummer Boy is my favorite Christmas song. And I love me some Christmas songs. Rejoicing in the birth of a precious child, of the faith that He’s the Lord or otherwise: it’s so beautiful. If I have a baby someday, I’d love for beautiful songs of devotion and peace to be written for him (or her!). So sweet, so beautiful, such celebration.

I haven’t been listening to much Christmas music this year and haven’t been much in the spirit. Sometimes I am. Usually, it seems. This year? Eh. I’m right here.

Right now I’m hearing the Little Drummer Boy station on Pandora. O Come All Ye Faithful is on right now: O come! Let us adore him!

How beautiful is that!?

A few years ago I learned to play Little Drummer Boy on guitar. It’s simple and warm and a few friends and I played it at our wonderful Christmas party. It was on Christmas day and about twenty people came by my place, answering my invitation that said, “Anytime after 3, bring some good food.” We ate and ate and ate and made merry and it was gorgeous.

But it was the next year – last year, when I was just coming off of an appendectomy and felt as if my whole world was turned upside down – that I really clicked with the depth of the song.

I have no gift to bring
Pa rum pum pum pum
That’s fit to give a King
Pa rum pum pum pum

This humble child joins with the parade and all of the people coming to offer their shiniest devotions to the New Baby, bringing all he has to offer:

Shall I play for you
Pa rum pum pum pum
On my drum . . .

He doesn’t try to change himself or disguise himself, nor does he hide out from shame. He presents himself, in humble devotion and offers what he has. What he is. Nothing more, nothing less.

And, we all know what happened next:

Mary nodded
Pa rum pum pum pum

The love of the approving Mother, and, of course,

The ox and lambs kept time
Pa rum pum pum pum

And the little boy plays his best and gives his best and is himself – humble, simple, precious – sharing devotion with another child. Innocent life joining in music. I am a poor boy too . . .

And then, the Baby Jesus smiles at the little drummer boy: and we are Loved, Loved, Loved, with our humble talents, with out shining talents, with all we have in our hearts including our fears, our stresses, our sadness, our confusion, our rage, our peace, our happiness, our excitement, our heartache, our lust, our inspiration, our madness, our joy, our love.

So here I am this year, a grey and damp day in southern California, a fire in the fire place drying my sneakers that I left out in the rain. I was here on my own last Christmas, too, and I like it, being on my own, that is. But I haven’t been having the best of times, not so much in the spirit¬†(written¬†as if in the spirit is something other than exactly how I am, you are, we are . . . )

Hormonal stress, uncertainty in just about every area of life I can think of, disappointment at not sleeping so well on my vacation, general crabbiness . . . and the struggle and impatience with trying to handle all of it on my own . . . this has been my scene. I met with a friend today for a Living Inquiries session which was really helpful. The most useful thing about it was that it got the water works unclogged and moving. In other words, I got a good cry on.

As you know, I’m such a fan of venues where all natural expression is welcomed and loved (see and stay tuned for further posts filled with other spaces to share from the heart!). I’m part of a private Facebook page where we post what we feel, from the heart, no matter how it might look, and we receive only welcome. Mary nods. Today I posted something on there about having “one a dem blue Christmases”, and two friends stepped in and shared their own loneliness today. And, suddenly, all three of us were joined together (in spirit, since we’re spread out in California, Washington and Texas). The friends both said they hadn’t planned to share out loud how they were feeling. What a beautiful blessing it is to tell what’s there. To play your own precious drum.

Please always know that you may share from the heart in The Therapy Booth. The ox and lamb will even keep time.

ox and lamb

Light of the world, you shine upon us.

Merry Christmas, sweet friends. Having you and the Booth are great great blessings in my life. May you feel the love in your pure innocence today and always.



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