God is

God is

God is babbling brook,

springing forth in winter frost

God is child’s laughter,

spilling out

God is possibility,

inbreaking,

light in darkest night.

God is.

I caught the giggles from a five year-old on Sunday, who was sneaking in an extra sweet to as many christingle kits as she could. Her incessant glee at Debbie’s reactions of faux-surprise has me suppressing a smile even now as I write this.

We have a novel new routine this week of showering at a neighbour’s while we are without heating and hot water. What started as a tentative request for a favour has become a part of the day we really look forward to. We have learned about Kazakhstan, back to back houses, local history, about Cedric the bird, and benefited from the outworking of a rather impressive collection of gin.

A friend who was staying the night yesterday came and joined us for this recently developed house ritual and billed it “unforgettable”. (She also informed me that her family have a tradition of eating Panettone for their Christmas breakfast, complete with a lit candle and rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to Jesus – as a long term fan of both Panettone and Jesus this may be a tradition I get around to adopting!)

Meanwhile, I am amassing a collection of camping stoves so that we can still celebrate ‘Housemas’ (House Christmas) on Sunday, merrily putting stamps on christmas cards, enjoying the ceremony of lighting the advent candles each night, and altogether feeling exceptionally grateful for the beauty of ordinary life.

Advent always feels like a time of possibility and wonder. Even singing through the chorus of ‘O Little Town’ at choir is enough to set off this almighty sense of God’s grace in my small malleable little heart:

We hear the Christmas angels,
    The great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
    Our Lord Emmanuel
!

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