Hope and magic

Well friends, I finished the painting. It’s not perfect, and there may be some tweaking, but it’s 95% done.

How are you doing this week? This morning?

Are you managing to keep your spirits up despite the gloom? I hope so.

It’s been a tough gig since October 7th for me, but I’m OK as I begin to write this at 6.19 am. I have just read Jonathan Freedland’s piece in the Guardian - the only piece besides the headlines -  and I think I’m going to leave it at that, because it left me with hope.

Dave and I had a discussion the other night about Christmas. What was it about? he asked, baffled. Why did I like it? 

I like: 

the magic

the tree coming in, in the middle of a dark season. I like decorating it and remembering where each decoration came from - my sister Jen gave me the Angel

Zoë gave me the joy star, and the peace star, Mary gave me the sun, Liz gave me the dove, Het gave me the heart, Wendy gave me the purple beaded star.

I like:

every evening seeing the tree in the corner of the room, sparkling 

the memories of Christmases when I was a child. I like thinking about my mother and father, and all the sibs being at home for Christmas

wrapping presents

cooking on my own in the kitchen on Christmas Eve while listening to the Carols from Kings College on the radio

the T S Eliot poem The Journey of the Magi, the first verse of which is

and the Wendy Cope poem The Christmas Life with its lines 

“Bring in your memories of Christmas past

Bring in your tears for all that you have lost”

and

“Bring in the hope, of birth and love and light.

Bring the Christmas life into this house.”

I like the Christmas story itself, not because I think it’s true but because it’s full of magic, and I like the central message of hope. What brings more joy than a new baby, full of promise? 

And this year I thought about the angels. Wouldn’t it be amazing to go out at night and see angels in the sky, singing? Can you imagine it? Yes, it sounds bonkers, and I don’t believe it happened but wouldn’t it be amazing to see it? 

It’s an ON Christmas at Hepworth Towers this year, so our children and grandchildren who live in Sheffield are coming over for the day, which means everyone will be here except the Colorado family.

And there’ll be a high chair at the end of the table with MsX in it.

My Christmas message this year is an old one I am returning to. Oddly (or perhaps not) one of the times I quoted it on the blog was in January 2010, during another cruel onslaught on Gaza.

Here it is…

“It is better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness.”

Happy Christmas, dear friends.