and just as I climbed in to bed at 10:30 with a wicked case of jet lag and a cup of tea, Grams proclaimed, "It was tradition growing up. The only service we attended all year was midnight mass on Christmas Eve." Next thing I know I'm donning my boots + beret, racing through metro stations and running through the cobblestone streets of Paris. Just as we crossed over the Seine, you could hear the bells chiming from a few blocks away and as we rounded the corner, the night lit up by the Notre Dame Cathedral and all it's Christmas Eve glory.
It was never on my bucket list to attend midnight mass on Christmas Eve in the Notre Dame cathedral but I'm telling you, you should add it to yours. The choir. The incense. The candlelight. The organ.
The entire service was in French but I swear I could feel the meaning of every word. After the lovely mass, we grabbed a chocolat chaud and hailed a cab back to our quaint little apartment in hopes that Saint Nick soon would be here.
Happy Christmas to all and to all a bonne nuit.