Last night I invited a few selected Holly-fans to join me in celebrating her life - a kind of wake/purvey that involved a 'slideshow' of nearly 400 photos, some human-Dreamies, and a toast to her drunk in pink, sparkling grape juice.  Lots of laughter, memories and love.

It was a lovely, gentle evening, giving a sense of closure (to me anyway).

One person gave me this poem, which is rather lovely:

Poem For Cats

And God asked the feline spirit
Are you ready to come home?
Oh, yes, quite so, replied the precious soul
And, as a cat, you know I am most able
To decide anything for myself.

Are you coming then? asked God.
Soon, replied the whiskered angel
But I must come slowly
For my human friends are troubled
For you see, they need me, quite certainly.

But don't they understand? asked God
That you'll never leave them?
That your souls are intertwined. For all eternity?
That nothing is created or destroyed?
It just is....forever and ever and ever.

Eventually they will understand,
Replied the glorious cat
For I will whisper into their hearts
That I am always with them
I just am....forever and ever and ever.

Author Unknown

Every now and then there emerges a preaching-preference about mentioning the cross at Christmas. 

There was a time when, as an over-reaction to saccharine sweet slop, preachers emphasised the inevitable link with the events of Calvary.  In a justified endeavour to move beyond "little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay" who can be boxed up with the tinsel and forgotten about until next year, we pretty much denied the mystery of a helpless baby, totally dependent on human parents for well-being as God's chosen means of incarnation.

More recently, and with chastened cheeriness, the move has been back to letting the story stand on its own, skipping past that nasty Herod stuff, painting over the differences between Luke and Matthew, and somehow cleaning up the messyness of an illegitimate birth, in a back street, in a borrowed room.

Is there no middle ground?

First of the 'cross reference index' hymns for Advent use is BPW 156 (from the Christmas section) Born in the night, Mary's child:

With some key changes (from E flat to G and back again) it's not my faovurite to play as my fingers and brain get confused!  Nonetheless, it is a lovely hymn that holds together the cradle and the cross in a way that is gentle enough not to spoil the fleeting warmth of Christmas without dumbing down the horror of Calvary.

I have vague recollections that once upon a time as well as the line "born in borrowed room" there was a verse that ended "laid in a borrowed tomb" but I can find no evidence of that.

In birth, and in death, 'borrowed rooms' are part of our experience - hospitals, mortuaries, chapels of rest, crematoria... places we visit for a reason as we journey on in our own lives.  Perhaps what this song captures most eloquently is the way in which birth and death, death and birth are intertwined, and find their fullest expression in Mary's child...

Hope of the world, Mary's child

You're coming soon to reign

King of the world, Mary's child

Walk in our streets again.

Amen, let it be so.

(photo nicked from www)

Henry Burton's hymn "There's a light upon the mountains" is one of my favourite in the Advent section of BPW, where at No 149 it is the last entry (apart from a few prayers/liturgies).

"There's a light upon the moutains, and the day is at the spring" that first hint of dawn when the dark mountains gently emerge from the darkness as the sky lightens with the new day...

The first verse expresses so eloquently the weariness of waiting, but finally, it declares, the day we waited for is arriving.

But it is the first half second verse that I especially love:

There's a hush of expectation,

And a quiet in the air;

And the breath of God is moving

In the fervent breath of prayer

That palpable silence, heavy with anticipation... what used to be refered to back in the day as a 'pregnant pause' I guess.  The stillness and quiet that carries within it something momumental.

And the breath of God, the Spirit of God that brings dry bones to life, is active in the determined, continued breath of prayer...

Even when it's hard to keep going

Even when our hearts are weary with waiting

Even when the darkness seems interminable

Even when...

The verse continues:

For the suffering, dying Jesus

Is the Christ upon the throne,

And the travail of our spirits

Is the travail of his own.

or, to put it another way, Emmanuel, God is with Us.

So that's it for the BPW Advent hymns section; tomorrow begins the first of those identified in the "Index of Sectional Cross-References" giving us another ten, before I go back to pick up the liturgical offerings that are BPW 150-154 inclusive (with I think takes us up to Christmas Eve!)

BPW 148 is a simple Taize chant:

Wait for the LORD

[Whose] day is near

Wait for the LORD

Be strong, take heart.

I have sung this in many times and places.

Like many Taize chants it carries me back to the time I was part of a team staffing a 24/7 Prayer room in Leicestershire.  In the wee small hours, well out of my comfort zone being awake at that time, and alone in a large building with only a CD player for company, this chant, and others, somehow enfolded me in God's presence... the Lord's day is near, the Lord's presence is here.

Today has been that typical ministerial mixture... the precious and beautiful sharing of home communion with a centenarian and two other folk; the writing of a "minister's letter" for the January church magazine; the printing of leaflets for Thursday's lunchtime reflection; the making of hard copies of readings for the carol service to give to those not online...

And of course the saying of farewell to Holly.

In all of this, the LORD is near; in all of this the LORD is here

So I find strength

And I am heartened

Advent busyness,

Everyday business,

Grey-skied, wind-lashed, rain-soaked heaviness

Waiting for the LORD

Only to discover

That all the time the LORD is already here...

At 9:25 this morning, with her slave and vet-of-choice in attendance, Holly Bethany Cat, manse moggy, internet star (at least in social media land), cuddly companion and faithful feline slipped away peacefully.  Perhaps it is timely that the present Pope has asserted that animals go to heaven, because it is definitely comforting to think that she is now safely with her creator.

Born sometime in 2002, and originally known as Molly, this long-haired black and white cat stole the hearts of all who had the privilege to know her - and, as one of my friends expressed it yesterday, had me wrapped around her little paw.

Her first family decided that three human children and a cat was one too many, so Molly was sent to the Cat's Protection League.  She landed on her paws when a Roman Catholic former nun fell in love with her at first sight, and took her to a home where she was spoiled beyond belief, renamed Holly, and built up a huge fan-base.  Sadly, Holly's new human fell ill and died of cancer, leaving her with the shadow of the cat's home once again looming large. (It's a very lovely cat's home, but it's still a cat's home).

So I offered to take her for a trial, and of course she worked her magic, melting my heart and eventually wheedling her way into my bedroom where she would curl up at my feet and sleep soundly until about 4 a.m. when she'd walk up my legs, settle on my chest and ask for breakfast!

Three and a half years of happy memories, countless photos, more cat toys than Pets R Us, more chicken, ham and bits of fish (along with titbits of pastry and cheese) than a supermarket... Having Holly to share my life has been a real gift of grace - she has comforted me when I was sad, nuzzled me when I was anxious, listened when I needed a confidant beyond the human, and entertained me with her crazy antics.

I will miss her running to greet me, tail up, purr activated.  I will miss the hilarity of her feet skittering on the wooden floor as she ran so fast and got nowhere.  I will even miss the clawing of the rug (and carpet) when she was annoyed.

Rest in peace, faithful, feline friend... and if that there Pope is correct, purr in glory.