We are getting close to the last Sunday in Advent, and I’m sharing again a post on it’s theme, Love. This year, I’ve been very struck by the contrast between this run up to Christmas, and what we have grown used to in previous years. There is a sadness and a weariness, an underlying anxiety, as we run our errands in masks, seeking to give each other space. It has brought up sharply the old notion of Advent as a time of darkness, waiting while hardly daring to hope, hardly knowing what we are waiting, or hoping, for.
And this year, as many of us are holding back from seeing those we love, we are experiencing in our often aching hearts how much Love means to us, how essential it is. Our very essence. So here are some readings, and thoughts, on our hope that Love still comes down at Christmas.
It’s getting close now….
It’s nearly midwinter, nearly the shortest day….
It’s nearly Christmas.
And I want to give my attention to the story, to let the wonder of it seep through me, and there is a pile of ironing, and things in the kitchen that need attention, even though I am keeping things simple, even though.
It’s easy to feel the darkness closing in, even though there are lights and music flashing and blaring out there. In here, it’s cosy, and the sun is setting already. I will hold on to the wonder of love being born among us, even though the circumstances could hardly have been less promising – for circumstances are never quite what we hoped, and there’s the lesson. To look deeper than circumstance. To make a courageous decision to hold on to hope, and peace, and joy, and love, even though. For these things are…
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