At this time of year, I get up in the dark, even on WFH days, go out and come back in the dark, and risk never seeing the daylight.  So it was important this morning when glancing up from my computer I glimpsed a glorious sunrise to stop work and savour its beauty, because in a few minutes it would have gone.

I even went outside, feeling the chill air on my face, and the frost beneath my feet, to see it from another angle...

As the poet once wrote, 'what i this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare...'

This morning I am grateful for the wonder of the sunrise over a small town in the north of England.

The Birthkeeper of Bethlehem by Bridget Supple was recommended to me a friend who was once a Baptist Minister and is now a Midwife (some readers may deduce/guess who that is) and I absolutely loved it!

For sure, I could take issue with the anachronism of twenty-first century concepts projected back into a first century context.  I could cringe that the little Lord Jesus made no crying.  I could  get all antsy any how the author tackles the elision of of the Matthean and Lukan narratives.

Or, I could savour the rich story telling and the careful research into traditional childbirth, reclamation of women's voices and celebration of women's bodies.

I chose the latter, and it drew me into the familiar story in a different and interesting way, shining new light on both the gospel stories and the mystery of childbirth.

Well worth a read this Advent season, at least imo.     

Today I was teaching classes, on pastoral care and reflective practice, on Zoom , which meant I couldn't be at church, where wreath-making formed the centrepiece of the service.  The person leading the service left this beautiful one on my doorstep... pastoral care as inclusive gift-giving.

During the morning session, one of the participants asked if a specific - and important - topic would be covered in the class (which was material written by someone else).  When I checked, it wasn't so I spent my lunch break quickly finding good resources and preparing to facilitate some exploration around that topic.  At the end of the class someone commented that this was pastoral care...  and they were correct... the gift of time, knowledge (or at least where to find it!) and flexibility.

I always learn when I teach/train/facilitate and today was no exception.

Today I am teaching online for most of the day, which includes leading prayers (with Communion) for Advent 1.

Setting up my office this morning brought back memories of 2020 when, every Sunday, I would hang fabric to disguise my bookcases, stack books to form a 'table' and spend disproportionate amounts of time tweaking the set-up.

So it is today.

I am glad to be part of a tradition that had /has no theological hangups over Zoom Communion.

I am glad that out of lock-down came new opportunities for communication, fellowship and teaching/learning.

Advent 1 holds many bittersweet associations, and stirs within me a melancholy that I think is healthy and helpful,

Whatever Advent 1 means for you, may the candle flame of hope lighten your journey.