Hard frost in Kelvingrove Park, just one of the places I passed through on my (almost ten mile!) walk today. There is no doubt that rural scenes of snow-capped mountains, or forests in snowy landscapes are beautiful.  But there is also a beauty unique to cities, and Glasgow is no exception.

This morning I chose to walk into town along the banks of the Kelvin (as far as I could), a lovely meandering stroll through parkland of the sort that could be pretty much anywhere.  Dog-walkers, baby-walkers, joggers and the occasional cyclist, enjoying the crisp brightness of the day, surrounded by trees.  Quite a contrast with the Clyde, which I followed on my way back, broad, straight, urban, even industrial, complete with mildly annoying dead-ends if you cross to the south side of the river.  More joggers and cyclists, no dogs, few babies, but a smattering of tourists en route to the Science Centre or Riverside Museum.

I was struck afresh by the variety that exists on my doorstep, of similarities with walks I have loved in other places at other times, of what is unique to this place and even this walk.

A beautiful day in which to delight in the natural beauty of water and trees, and in the ingenuity and creativity of human endeavour.  A reminder, were one needed, of just how very blessed I am.

A true story, sort of in the style Jesus might have used...

There was a family who had a cat, and who allowed him liberty to roam freely by day.  Gregarious and affectionate, he soon became a much loved visitor to the nearby railway station and hospitals complex (including two specialist ones where people were treated for mental health and for cancer, as well as a general hospital and one that practices homeopathy).  Day by day he would greet the humans as they came up or down the steps between station and hospital.  Sometimes he would simply sit and watch through windows, offering a purr to anyone in need.  Sometimes he would patrol the station perimeter, checking for invaders.  He even posed for a calendar to raise money for a cancer charity, such was his generosity of spirit. Mostly, though, he just was, a dependable presence.

People loved the cat too much, and began to tempt him with gifts of Dreamies and cartons of cat-food.  His girth expanded, and he no longer needed to go home for tea... he wandered further and further each day.

One day he didn't come home, then another, then another... He was well and truly lost.

His house humans contacted his social-media alter-ego and pleas went out to help find this cat.  From Australia to the USA and even nearby in Glasgow came messages of support, retweets and purrs (feline prayers).  Humans walked the streets, calling his name, whistling, sometimes thinking they saw him, only to discover it was another look-a-like.

Days stretched to weeks, and still no sign of him... Hoping against hope, humans tweeted and searched...

Then one day, the humans with whom he had sought shelter recognised him, and via the wonder of the internet were able to contact his own humans.  Cat and humans were reunited, and great was the rejoicing on Twitter.

He was grounded for a while, and put on a diet,since he had grown a little round. And he was given a collar that said "please do not feed this cat", lest he fall prey to temptation once more, but now once more he patrols the station and the hospitals, bringing joy to countless others.

And so I tell you, there is more rejoicing over one who is led astray and is safely returned home than over a gazillion who never wander.

This arrived through the post today, just as I got home from the vet with Sasha who had been in overnight having some tests... perfect timing!

At our 'not the nativity' service we gave out these cards and invited people to write their address on the envelope, with a promise that in the New Year I would post them.  I was (and am) planning on hanging on for a few weeks yet, but what a lovely surprise to receive one today.

Whoever you are, and whether or not you read this stuff, THANK YOU.

Back to work today, and starting with a draft sermon for Sunday as part of a four week series reflecting on the well known parable of the father with two sons, one of whom stays home and the other goes far away.

This well known and well loved painting will not be featuring, nor will the book by Henri Nouwen reflecting on it, but undoubtedly my thoughts will be influenced by past reading of this, and by the thoughts of Richard Holloway I've also encountered in the past.

It's a rich parable, with oodles of possibilities for sermons - I hope that others will find something interesting, helpful or worth pondering in what I share over these next weeks.

Now - back to the rest of the service!