With Christmas approaching, I often reflect upon one particular evening in the early 1960s. Back then, we decided to go carolling (唱圣诞颂歌) to spread the Christmas spirit which might1 someone else's life. So we needed to take2 new members, for whom the only3 was warmth of spirit.
Soon we discovered that carolling brought various4 . Sometimes we were greeted with open doors and open hearts, while other times, folks remained in the safety and cosiness of their homes, watching5 through their windows.
One stop on our journey particularly6 our memory. That night, after a couple of songs, one door swung open. A gentleman, gray haired, tenderly7 we go upstairs to sing for his bedridden wife. He added8 , "She loves music and used to be an opera singer."
We stepped briskly upward into the couple's9 apartment. Books, records, and antique furniture whispered stories to us. I reminded myself not to stare10 showing disrespect to them.
Sitting beside his wife, the gentleman gave us a11 . Then our voices rose and lingered around their small home. Had our voices been given extra12 and beauty for this occasion? Perhaps they had.
A smile flickered on the woman's13 , 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 the14 of love that was gentle and mild.
At that moment, we found, and maybe even15 , the Christmas spirit.
