It’s Christmas Eve.
The smallest member of the family, Grandson Number Two, is very pleased. He told me yesterday he couldn’t wait for Christmas Eve. Why Christmas Eve instead of Christmas Day remains a mystery.
At 3.00 in the afternoon, a young friend of mine reports that her 8 year old is already in her pyjamas and ready for bed - she wants to make an early start.
Everywhere there are people busily doing last minute wrapping, or even last minute shopping!
As for me, I’m baking apple pie and cheese cake and prepping vegetables. I have been informed that we need a lo of roast potatoes tomorrow, so I’ll peel them now and they can sit in a basin of water until tomorrow.
In a couple of hours the local farmers will drive their decorated and fairy-lit tractors around the Saddleworth Villages, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.
Christmas Eve is a different story in the place where it all started. From Sky News we have this:
“Bethlehem praying for a ceasefire this Christmas as war rages on
The Church of the Nativity, normally heaving with tourists and pilgrims, is quiet, even during a Sunday mass in December. Reverend Munther Isaac told Sky News that "it is impossible to celebrate with a genocide taking place in our land against our people".
The Church of the Nativity, normally heaving with tourists and pilgrims, is quiet, even during a Sunday mass in December.
A few Palestinian Christians attend the weekly service and pray in the grotto where Jesus is said to have been born, but the excitement and joy of Christmas time are absent this year.”
And the Observer reports this:
At Bethlehem’s Lutheran Evangelical church, the nativity scene looks very different this Christmas. Instead of a cot in a hay-filled manger, the baby doll has been wrapped in the famous black and white keffiyeh associated with Palestine, and lies among broken breeze blocks and paving slabs.
Christmas celebrations have been cancelled across the Holy Land this year as the region mourns the Palestinians – now more than 20,000, according to the health ministry in the Hamas-run Gaza Strip – killed in the new war between Israel and the militant group. Munther Isaac, the pastor of the Lutheran church, said he wanted to send the world a message with this year’s nativity scene. “This is the reality of Christmas for Palestinian children,” he said. “If Jesus was born today, he’d be born under the rubble of Gaza.”
Michael Rosen has a poem for us:
Who loves children the most?
Parents step forward and say,
“We love the child the most
we care for our children
more than we care for ourselves.”
Teachers step forward and say,
“We love the child the most
we educate children
so that they can play their part in the world.”
Doctors and nurses step forward and say,
“We love the child the most
because we save their lives
and nurse them back to health.”
“Not so”, said a voice from the shadows.
“Who’s that?” they wondered.
“Who can love children more than
parents, teachers, do tors or nurses?”
“It’s me”, said the voice
and from out of the shadows
stepped War.
Here’s a bit more Michael Rosen, in a different guise:
“'Today,' said the King's tutor, 'I want you to imagine a way of waging war where there is no danger to the people waging the war.'
'How about if we had invisible soldiers?' said the King.
'Good,' said the tutor.
'What if we had magical soldiers?' said the King, 'who could make the enemy vanish.'
'Good,' said the tutor.
'I can't think of any more,' said the King.
'What about if you had flying soldiers?' said the tutor, 'they could fly over the enemy and drop things on them.'
'That's very clever,' said the King, 'but the things they dropped would end up landing on people who aren't soldiers, wouldn't they?' said the King.
'Yes, but that wouldn't matter,' said the tutor.”
There it is.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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