Rush, rush, hurry, hurry. So much to do.
In the early hours of tomorrow morning, once midnight communion has been ticked off my things-to-do list, it probably will be a silent night and a holy night. I will be going to bed at a time I once recall waking up as a child. On that occasion I opened a few things then went back to sleep until 4.30 a.m. How my parents must have loved me.
A short while after that, tomorrow, other families will be understanding why the little Lord Jesus was alleged to make no crying. Got to keep those Victorian kids in line somehow.
The words of our Christmas songs mix the glory with the bilge. For every:
Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas
All other doth deface.
... a cold winter's night that was so deep.
We have no idea of the precise weather conditions in the hills over Bethlehem 2,000 years ago but it probably wasn't as bad as my garden this morning.
Whatever you make of what you sing today may it:
Guide us to thy perfect light
Have a great day today. Remember, as a great bear called Pooh once remarked, there is a moment just before you eat the honey which is as good as any moment while you are eating it.