As part of our focus on peace, I shared this photo of our completed 'peace quilt'.  It is beautiful, not so much for its appearance (though I am pleased with how it turned out) but for the memories it carries and the stories it tells.

The four corners honour I, the grandmother of T, who has faithfully joined us online each week for worship.  The life story of I is incredible, a German woman who, having been in a concentration camp,  went on to train as a doctor.

The centre, where the embroidery is, was 'just a church tea towel', used to dry cups and plates after prayer meetings, funeral teas, Sunday School parties, and any number of other events in the life of a church.

The faded, stylised Victorian(?) figures were a tea towel used to dry the mugs of our weekly drop in for vulnerable adults... memories of dominoes, and Redemption Hymnal, of ginger cake and the inimitable Miss A who ran it for decades.

Memories of overseas service with TLM, of people's holidays in New Zealand, Norwich and the Shetlands... lingering smells of kitchen drawers... stories of loved ones no longer here, and the story of our 2020 experience all bought together in one place.

Sewing the quilt was a privilege, sharing something of its story a responsibility, knowing that its value lies, not in silver or gold, but in the life of this community, a precious gift.

It's hard to believe that this is the fourth and final Sunday of Advent for this year.

With a slight emphasis on the theme of 'peace' we enjoyed a service of Lesson and Carols with some gorgeous music, and voices literally from around the globe.  It was very special.

It was our 40th Sunday on Zoom - and I am so proud of everyone for sticking together through it all.  Clearly we will be on Zoom for a good while yet, and the experience will inform our worship permanently.

Looking forward to our virtual Christmas services now, knowing that we have travelled together this unplanned journey with hope, love, joy and a measure of peace. 

So, today is my 58th birthday... and every year older is a truly precious gift.

How different from my 48th birthday, which I feared might be my last.

And how much that experience affects my reaction to restrictions imposed to prevent the spread of a horrible virus that kills so many people... better miss one birthday, one Christmas than never have another one.

Yes, it' is complicated.  Yes, there are people for whom this will be the last Christmas (known or unknown) but actually all any of us have is the present (which I read somewhere recently lasts 3 seconds).

So I have had a lovely day.  I walked before the dawn, breakfasted on pastries and coffee, Zoomed with friends, brunched with another friend, ate cake, Zoomed with Sunday school, baked veggie sausage rolls, received and opened gifts and cards, Zoomed with tech folk to do some checks for tomorrow, ate more cake, and , yes,listened to the announcements about restrictions.

Give up festivities for one year - it's really not a big ask, in my opinion.... Better give it miss for one year and have plenty more to look forward to.

Thank you everyone who has made my day special.

Today we receive a little angel charm, with an invitation to clip it to a bag or coat, so that we can carry it with us.

Angels, God's messengres who announce hope, peace and joy.  Some people believe we each have  dedicated guardian angel to watch over us; whether or not that's true, God certainly watches over us, night and day, through good times and hard times.

I am amused that, by chance, I received a turquoise angel, one of my favourite colours!

Today's poem is 'Unto us a Son is Given' by Alice Meynell, an English poet of the twentieth century, twice nominated to be Poet Laureate - and twice rejected (the only woman so far is Carol Anne Duffy, under new rules that(wisely imo)  limit the tenure to ten years).  She was also a devout Roman Catholic and a Suffragist (not a Suffragette).  You can find the poem here

I chose a photo of some of the Christmas cards I have received, as they seemed to connect, n a very small way, with the poem.

And the prayer:

God of the ages, God of this age,

It is so true - each year it happens again, whether we name it, or know it, or believe it;

Wise ones still seek it, humble ones discover it, animals sense it, and stars declare it -

Help us, then, to relax into it.

Amen