Waiting

I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels but I do know that I am very tired.  I’m so tired that I don’t know what to do with myself.

We’ve been on the road for three days now and it will be another four days at least until we reach Bethlehem.  We’ve got to go to Bethlehem because the emperor wants to count us.  Crazy!

These last nine months have been frightening.  I'd always thought it would be fantastic to be special to God but sometimes I’ve felt as though I was living through a nightmare.  It was OK all those months ago when that angel came. In fact, it was more than OK, it was brilliant!  I suppose I was swept along by the moment but you know, even after everything that’s been happening, I’m still glad I said yes.  I was a bit scared but you can’t say no to God, can you?  But when the angel had gone reality set in.

The mornings were worst.  That’s when I was being sick.  At first I didn’t know why but before long I realised that the angel had been no dream.  I was expecting a baby.

I’ll never forget the day I told my mum about the baby.  It was awful.  She wept and she shouted at me and she pleaded with me to name the father but when I named The Father she wouldn’t believe me.  She hadn’t seen the angel so why should she?  She thought some man had been with me. 

Then she told my dad and that was even worse.  I think I’ve always been special to him and he was stunned.  He couldn’t speak to me or even look at me.  He was just so ashamed of me.

Then he had to tell Joseph.  I think he hoped that Joseph was the father but no-one knew better than Joe that he wasn’t.  My lovely Joe.  How could I hurt him so much?  He was distraught but he loves me so much that although he wouldn’t marry me he wouldn’t make a song and dance about it.

Then he had his dream and that changed everything.  At last someone believed me.  I wasn’t alone any longer.  Someone else was in on God’s plan.

He went to see my mum and dad again and told them he had changed his mind again and he wanted to marry me and he thought it would be a good idea if we were wed as soon as possible before people started to notice me so that’s what we did.  Then we went to see Elizabeth so I could help her while she had her baby.  Aunt Lizzie has always been a bit snooty and I knew she wouldn’t pass by on the opportunity to lord it over me.  Her baby was a special gift from God too as quite honestly she was past it.  Anyway, Joe came with me to hold my hand and help me face the music. 

You could have knocked me down with a feather when she came rushing out of the house shouting, “Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come and visit me?” 

And that changed me too.  When my angel had told me what was going to happen all I could say was, “OK, whatever God wants is fine by me”.  But went Aunt Lizzie was like that it suddenly seemed like it would be all right and I started shouting too, “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour”. 

I stayed with Aunt Lizzie for quite a few weeks.  We got really close and maybe when my baby is born he’ll be able to spend time with her boy.  Joe went home but came and fetched me back and we started our married life together.  My mum and dad don’t know what to make of it all but we’re happy, they’re happy.  Sort of.

But now we’ve got to go on this journey to Bethlehem and that’s where my baby will be born.  I’d hoped I could have been at home with my mum to help me but it will have to be with strangers.  Nothing seems to be easy when you are part of God’s plan but maybe he’s got it all worked out.

(This is something I posted originally in 2015)

 

Blogmas Day 1

 So many wonderful blogs are celebrating Blogmas this year that I feel I want to join in.  I've got a few posts in mind already but I'm starting with my favourite of the pre-Christmas stories I have written.  

It was tea break in the archangels’ rest room and it’s no use you telling me that archangels don’t have tea breaks and they don’t have rest rooms.  This is my story and I’m telling you that it was tea break in the archangels’ rest room.  

As always Raphael was there first.  It wasn’t that Raphael was work shy and knocked off first; rather it was that Raphael was the caring sort and he liked to get the kettle on ready for the others to come.  That way he could listen to their problems as they came, soothe their brows and generally do what he was best at - healing.

There was a loud rustling of wings in the corridor, the door was flung open wide and there was Michael.  One glance was enough to tell Raphael that Michael wasn’t having a good day.  Michael had very few very good days.  He was in charge of the winged squadrons and some of those cherubs were enough to try the most patient angel’s patience and no-one could call Michael the most patient angel.  Hot tea with an extra sugar and one of those nice chocolate biscuits wrapped in silver paper was Raphael’s prescription. 

Michael flopped into one of the best armchairs, hugged the cuppa like his life depended on it, gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes.  “Heaven preserve me from cherubs.”  Raphael made suitably sympathetic noises and they settled into a companionable silence.    Nothing needed to be said and they could just contemplate the infinite, which they were quite good at, as you might guess.

After a while Michael asked where Gabriel was and Raphael said that he hadn’t poured his tea as he’d heard that Big G had sent Gabriel on a job and you just never knew how long Big G’s jobs would take.  Michael nodded and once again silence fell on the rest room as they just enjoyed each other’s company – well wouldn’t you enjoy the company of angels? 

And then Gabriel arrived.  He looked so pale that the other two didn’t speak.  Raphael pressed into his hands a cup of strong tea which somehow smelled a bit spiritual, if you get my drift.  He took a huge gulp and then he spoke.  “You’ll never guess what Big G has had me doing today.”  The other two didn’t even try as they knew from long experience that second guessing Big G was beyond anyone, even an archangel.

“He’s only sent me down to earth to tell a slip of a girl called Mary that she’s going to be the mother of his son.  She’s only fifteen.  She lives in first century Palestine.  And she really hasn’t a clue.”

Michael spoke first.  “Is she married?  First century Palestine – that’s occupied by the Romans isn’t it?  And is that creep Herod still on the throne?”

Raphael wasn’t far behind with his questions.  “There won’t be a proper hospital.  And if it’s her first she won’t know how to look after it.  And she won’t have anywhere to live.  Poor little thing.”

Gabriel answered as briefly as he could.  Not married.  Palestine. Roman occupied.  Herod is still the puppet king.  Her first kid.

Michael was the first to recover.  “Not again.  You know what Big G is like.  He dishes out the decrees but leaves us to sort out the details.  You remember when he wanted do part the Red Sea but left it to us to organise the fish tanks or we’d have had a lot of extinct fish that day.  Or sorting the supper for those lions as a thank you for not eating Daniel.  Well, this will give those cherubs something to do at last.  Should put some backbone in them.  I’ll get the winged squadrons in.  Kick the Romans out of Palestine.  Find a better king for Jerusalem.

Raphael had been thinking as well.  “We’d better build a very quick twenty first century hospital.  And organise parent craft classes.  And I’ll get a few cherubs to volunteer to clean a new house for her and set up the best nursery ever.”

By this time Gabriel was beginning to look a bit better.  Not good mind, but better.  “Don’t worry about the unmarried bit.  I’ll leave it for a week or two and then go and see this old man called Joseph and tell him to marry the girl.   He’s a bit old for her but I suppose he’ll take good care of her.  Better that than a toy boy, anyway.  And maybe I should get the kid’s name down for Eton whilst I’m at it”

And so the three archangels started to plan how to improve on Big G’s plan. 

But just then the golden telephone rang.  Gabriel was the nearest so he picked it up.  Immediately he was alert and very respectful.  “Oh yes, your Almightiness.  Yes, sir.  We were just talking.  . . .  Oh, you heard us.  Of course you did.  And we made plans.  Oh you made plans too.  And your plans weren’t like ours.  You want us to . . . . what?  You’re sure.  Well if you’re absolutely sure, sir.  Well, yes sir, you know best.  Thank you, sir.”

He turned to the other two.  “That was Big G.  He says we’re to forget organising a coup to get rid of the Romans and replace Herod.  We’re to withdraw the planning application for the hospital and stand down the cherubs from spring cleaning.  He says that his son is to be just as vulnerable as the poorest of them.  To have parents as inadequate as most of them are.  To be born among the poorest and to grow up among the commonest of them.  In fact he’s going to know suffering and grief like them.  That way, no matter what those humans go through they’ll know that God understands and is right there beside them.”

Marbles

I’ve reached the age now where I can hear my friends saying that they reckon I’m starting to lose my marbles.  I’ve got news for them – I began to lose my marbles a long time ago but not long ago I read a story which made me feel that I wanted to go and get some more marbles, real ones, not metaphorical ones. Marbles might not seem to you to have much to do with Easter but Easter and marbles both tell us that there’s more to life than just life, if you see what I mean.

 It was a story of a man who worked long hours, who spent a lot of time away from home and never seemed to have time for his children.  He was sitting one Saturday and feeling a bit sorry for himself but to amuse himself and to try and keep his brain in trim he did a bit of arithmetic.  First of all he realised that the average person lives about seventy-five years.  Some live more, some less but seventy-five is the biblical three score years and ten with a bit extra for good luck. 

Then it being a Saturday, he decided to work out how many Saturdays there are in seventy-five years.  3900.  So the average person has 3900 Saturdays in their lifetime.  It so happened that the man was 55 when he decided to do his sums so he decided to think about how many Saturdays he’d had already.  2860.  So he had just about a thousand Saturdays still in the bank, so to speak

.

 Now a thousand Saturdays is not an easy thing to imagine and so he decided that he needed something to help him think about them so he went to a shop and bought a thousand marbles.  Actually he had to go to three toyshops before he managed to buy a thousand marbles but to the envy of the children he saw in each toyshop he managed to buy a thousand marbles.  Each marble would be a Saturday still to be spent. 

 He then went to a sweet shop and bought a big jar of sweets and he gave the sweets to the children of the village because he thought that might be fun and he kept the big empty jar for himself and he put his marbles into his jar.  And then each Saturday he took one marble out of the jar. 

 Slowly he watched his collection of marbles diminish but as he took each marble out of the jar it helped him to focus on the really important things of life.  It was as though he was watching his time on earth running away and he needed to get his priorities straight.  And so he found more time to play with his grandchildren than ever he’d had to play with his children.  He found time to make some fantastic hanging baskets.  He took up rambling.  He ran a couple of courses for U3A.

 Now the odd thing is that he worked out that sum about thirty years ago and so the really clever among you, who still have your metaphorical marbles, will know that he had gone through all his marbles.  So you might be thinking shame.  Poor old fellah.  But that’s not what the man thinks.  Because he got another jar and again gave the sweets to the local children but instead of taking one marble out each Saturday, he puts a marble in.  Each marble that goes into the new container is bonus time.  It is more time to notice the flowers, to appreciate his great grandchildren, to learn to cook a new dish.

 We're all mortal, and some of us don't have too many marbles left! It's so important to get priorities straight while we have time. And real priorities in this life are to do with relationships and love.  Important things are watching your children or grandchildren playing football, listening to excruciating violin practice; making sure your old Mum is OK; telling your wife or husband that you love them, ringing up that friend who you've been thinking about but haven't got round to contacting.

 And there is another priority that we need to get around to and that is forgiveness.  If there's someone in your life who has damaged you in some way, do try to forgive them before it's too late. You see, if you don't forgive them it's no skin off their nose, but it does continue to damage you. Being unable to forgive is a real block inside you.  It’s a heavy block, like a building block and it’s an impenetrable block to God’s love reaching you. When you can't forgive, even if you push all memories of the incident or incidents to the back of your mind, hatred is still nurtured and nourished inside you. And hatred eats away at your soul.

 

When Jesus died he showed us just what it is to love.  Human beings did their worst to him.  He was betrayed by one of his best friends, he was flogged, he was nailed to a cross and passers-by were told that he was a criminal And he still went on loving them despite all that. He even prayed for them and for us, saying to God, "Father, forgive them for they don't know what they're doing." I say he prayed for us for that is what we human beings still don’t know what we are doing. 

 

In a way, we still nail him to the cross, because we human beings still betray other people, still damage and hurt other people, still gossip about and malign other people. And every time we do that, it's like hammering another nail into his hands and feet. Yet God forgives us. We have all been forgiven so much, and all God asks in return is that we love and forgive each other just as Jesus showed us.  And then we can receive God’s love and forgiveness as well.

 

How many marbles do you have left? There are 290 in my metaphorical sweetie jar.  How many bonus marbles have you collected?  How much time do you have for that act of forgiveness, for that demonstration of love?

 

The more we love and forgive in this life the more we will know of resurrection in this life.  But one day we will know life in a fantastic new way when we find ourselves in the presence of God. If you learn to love and forgive in this life, then you'll find yourself living and loving with God in your new life after death.

 

How many marbles do you have left? Life is too short to waste time on grudges and hatred and spite and resentment. Let it all go. Give it over into the hands of Jesus and open your heart to him so that you too can receive all he has waiting for you. And then it won't matter how many marbles have passed through that jar.

A Story for Lent

A seeker came to a holy man.  The holy man was respected for miles around and many people came to him for his advice.  The seeker knelt and the holy man asked him what he wanted.  He said that all he wanted was to know how to resist temptation. 

The holy man sent him to the river and told him to bring back a bowl of water filled to the brim.  The seeker was anxious to please so he filled the bowl right to the top and then came back to kneel before the holy man. 

The holy man noticed two soldiers also waiting to talk with him and he called them forward.  Then he said to the seeker, “Carry your bowl through the streets of the city, through the market, through the places where the girls go to talk, through the busiest streets.  These soldiers will walk behind you.  If you spill one drop they will run you through with their swords.  If you come back with your bowl full you will have earned the right to the answer to your question.  Go now.”

This was not what the seeker had hoped for but he took his bowl and walked slowly through the streets of the city.  The streets were bustling but still he walked.  He went through the market and still he walked.  He passed the women but still he walked.  It was a long way and the path was not good, but he knew that the soldiers were right behind him.  It took several hours but eventually he returned to the holy man with his bowl.

The holy man saw him approach and asked, “Did you see anything in the market you wanted to buy?”  “No” said the seeker.

“How long were you in the gaming houses?”

“I did not go into the gaming houses.”

  

“And the girls you passed.  Were they beautiful?”

“I did not look.  Every step of the way I kept my eyes fixed on my bowl of water.”

“Well,” said the holy man, “today you kept your eyes fixed on your bowl of water.   If throughout your life you keep your eyes fixed on the truth you will resist all temptation.

This is not an original story.  I have known it for years but have no idea where I found it.

The Camel's Tale

I’d never thought that being a camel was all that wonderful but you know without a bunch of us lugging the supplies and tents and whatever, the three Wise Ones would never have made it to Bethlehem by the twelfth day.  Mind you, I didn’t carry the supplies.  I carried the wisest one, Melchior.

By the time we made it to Bethlehem the little town was getting back to being its sleepy old self after being so busy for that census.  Most people had gone off home but the disreputable couple we’d gone to see were still there.  There was just a man, a woman, and the baby. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Wise Ones are all very well but as far as camels are concerned camel boys are a lot more use.  They see to it that we’re fed and watered and rubbed down now and then.  The Wise Ones were totally useless. If they were not gazing at the stars they were talking about them, charting them, interpreting them and all that malarkey. They often missed the most interesting exciting parts of the journey, so absorbed and preoccupied were they with their own concerns and interests. They didn’t notice Lucky, the mouse who smuggled herself into the saddlebag of Caspar's camel. She was a teenage mouse who had had a terrible fight with her parents. But there I go again. I'm getting off the point.

Well, we went to that dreadful King Herod's place. Oh, there was plenty of water and grain and other good things to eat, but even we could sense the evil that hung around there.  There was that smarmy Herod who wanted the Wise Ones to find the new King of the Jews and come back to tell him where he could go to pay his respects himself.  It wasn't what he said but how he said it that made even the fleas on my humps crawl with uneasiness. Creepy man. 

On the outskirts of Bethlehem we ran across the happiest and wildest bunch of  shepherds you ever did see. All of them talking at once about angels and a baby and Good News for everyone. The Wise Ones smiled. The first time any of us had ever seen them smile! So just we three best camels carried the Wise Ones into town to see if it was just as the shepherds had told us.

When we found them it was night. It was very cold. Of course I wasn't supposed to come into the place where they were but I thought it wouldn’t matter if I just stuck my head in for a peek whilst the Wise Ones were deciding if they really were at the right place.

Well, it was a bit surprising to find the scene so ordinary.   I mean, even when a new camel is born amongst the herd, there is more attention and excitement: camel boys doing the midwifery, the rest of us clomping around to get a peek, shouts, cheers, everyone watching the new one try to stand up for the first time.

There was none of that in this little tiny place in Bethlehem. The man, the woman, between them the child. The Wise Ones put their gifts in there, and bowed down on bended knee and all that. Then it was back out the door, and up looking into the stars again, and soon we were on our way out of town. All of us except Lucky, that is. She’d still been hiding in that saddlebag and she hopped out and stayed behind. She was staying right there with him, the one born to be King. She wanted to live the rest of his story!

It was some years later that another mouse joined our caravan and started telling some fantastic and wonderful stories she had heard from her great-great-grandmother Lucky! Seems that throughout the years many people came to see the child as he grew up. Some went running through the streets and all over the world telling others the good things they had seen and heard about this child. All came seeking to receive something, but once you see him, really see him, you long to give whatever you have to further his life in the world.

Sometime or another, everyone needs to take a look in that baby. I know what I saw. Even I could see that this Jesus calls us to follow him so we might do something beautiful with our lives and bear much fruit. Even camels!

Isn’t it weird.  The Wise Ones are off all the time looking at the light in the stars, when the light of the world is right here in the midst of us.  Any camel with eyes could see that!   It’s a deep secret that even the Wise Ones overlook most of the time. Keep looking at the babe in the manger, offer him your gifts, and you will see all that there is to know and see!   And who knows, maybe if we all offer as much as we receive, we just might in fact make it through the eye of a needle!

This is not an original story, I heard or read a similar one some years ago but cannot remember the source.  I've written my own version of someone else's original idea and if anyone knows the source of that idea I would be very grateful if they let me know!

Frogs

Frogs

There was once a princess who lived in a great palace. One morning she was walking in the palace gardens with her page boy. As they got near the lily pond, suddenly they saw in the grass in front of them a small green frog. Now the page boy didn’t like frogs: they looked slimy and wet, and you never knew which way they were going to jump. So he said: ‘Quick, let’s get a stick and kill it.’  

But the princess, a wise young woman, stopped him. Instead she bent down and gently picked up the very surprised little frog. And to the page boy’s horror she… well, you know the rest of the story.

Frog number two. There was once a little frog called Jesus. Well, he wasn’t really a frog, but there were a lot of rich and powerful people who didn’t like him. They weren’t sure what to make of him – or which way he was going to jump next. So they did just what the page boy wanted to do: they killed him.  But God, rather like the wise young princess in the story, did something amazing. He bent down and gently lifted up the little ‘frog person’ into new life.

Frog number three is actually lots of little frogs because if you think  about it, not only was Jesus a sort of frog person, but he also had a lot of very froggy friends.   Little people that the more powerful people wanted to bash, not with sticks – but with rules and regulations that made them feel worthless and rejected. This happened a lot to people who were ill; people who had got things wrong in their lives; and people who were poor. 

But, unlike a lot of the powerful, religious people, Jesus didn’t send them away. Instead he befriended them and, no matter how frightened they were, he gently lifted them up and loved them back into life. He respected them and showed them love and friendship. Just like the princess – and just like God.

Frog number four is millions and billions of little frogs.  These are ordinary people just like you and me.  We’ve all got or we have had, mums.  Many of us have children but even if we aren’t mothers we do a lot of caring for other people.  Sometimes mums can be a little bit like the frogs in my story, they can be misunderstood, they want a kiss.  Sadly there are also lots of children who are misunderstood and just want a kiss as well.  Mothering Sunday reminds us all of the importance of a kiss and a hug and telling each other that everyone is loved

So what does Jesus the Frog Person want us to do about mums and children and indeed about everyone as everyone is someone’s son or daughter.  Maybe on this Mothering Sunday he wants us to do what all good mothers would do – to treat others with love and understanding. And, when we do that, we make an amazing discovery. They don’t look like frogs any more. Instead, we discover they are gifted and sensitive people made in the image of God. Just like you and me.

Mary's ponderings

I'm joining in with Pause for Advent hosted by Tracing rainbows.  This year I am looking at the events of Advent through the eyes of four people who saw them all those 2000 years ago.  I have thought about Ann (Jesus's granny, Mary's mum), Joseph and Elizabeth and today Mary is having her two pennorth.

I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels but I do know that I am very tired.  I’m so tired that I don’t know what to do with myself.

We’ve been on the road for three days now and it will be another four days at least until we reach Bethlehem.  We’ve got to go to Bethlehem because the emperor wants to count us.  Crazy!

These last nine months have been frightening.  I always thought it would be fantastic to be special to God but sometimes I’ve felt as though I was living through a nightmare.  It was OK all those months ago when that angel came. In fact it was more than OK, it was brilliant!  I suppose I was swept along by the moment but you know, even after everything that’s been happening, I’m still glad I said yes.  I was a bit scared but you can’t say no to God, can you?  But when the angel had gone reality set in.

The mornings were worst.  That’s when I was being sick.  At first I didn’t know why but before long I realised that the angel had been no dream.  I was expecting a baby.

I’ll never forget the day I told my mum about the baby.  It was awful.  She wept and she shouted at me and she pleaded with me to name the father but when I named The Father she wouldn’t believe me.  She hadn’t seen the angel so why should she?  She thought some man had been with me. 

Then she told my dad and that was even worse.  I think I’ve always been special to him and he was stunned.  He couldn’t speak to me or even look at me.  He was just so ashamed of me.

Then he had to tell Joseph.  I think he hoped that Joseph was the father but no-one knew better than Joe that he wasn’t.  My lovely Joe.  How could I hurt him so much?  He was distraught but he loves me so much that although he wouldn’t marry me he wouldn’t make a song and dance about it.

Then he had his dream and that changed everything.  At last someone believed me.  I wasn’t alone any longer.  Someone else was in on God’s plan.

He went to see my mum and dad again and told them he had changed his mind again and he wanted to marry me and he thought it would be a good idea if we were wed as soon as possible before people started to notice me so that’s what we did.  Then we went to see Elizabeth so I could help her while she had her baby.  Aunt Lizzie has always been a bit snooty and I knew she wouldn’t pass by on the opportunity to lord it over me.  Her baby was a special gift from God too as quite honestly she was past it.  Anyway, Joe came with me to hold my hand and help me face the music. 

You could have knocked me down with a feather when she came rushing out of the house shouting, “Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come and visit me?” 

And that changed me too.  When my angel had told me what was going to happen all I could say was, “OK, whatever God wants is fine by me”.  But went Aunt Lizzie was like that it suddenly seemed like it would be all right and I started shouting too,  "My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour”. 

I stayed with Aunt Lizzie for quite a few weeks.  We got really close and maybe when my baby is born he’ll be able to spend time with her boy.  Joe went home but came and fetched me back and we started our married life together.  My mum and dad don’t know what to make of it all but we’re happy, they’re happy.  Sort of.

But now we’ve got to go on this journey to Bethlehem and that’s where my baby will be born.  I’d hoped I could have been at home with my mum to help me but it will have to be with strangers.  Nothing seems to be easy when you are part of God’s plan but maybe he’s got it all worked out.

Getting it wrong

I'm joining in  with "A Pause in Advent" which being hosted by Tracing Rainbows and I am looking at the time of waiting for Jesus's birth through the eyes of four different people.  This week it's Elizabeth the mother of John the Baptist and you can read about her and Zechariah (her husband) in Luke 1.

It was a good job that Zechariah had been struck dumb before I told him that young Mary was coming to stay.  We’ve always been good godly people but ever since I got pregnant he’s had a bee in his bonnet about an angel telling him that our baby will be something a bit special.  It’s a miracle that I’m expecting at my age and that’s special enough for me but he’s gone a bit OTT.

Anyway when I said that Ann had suggested that Mary could come and give me a hand in my last few weeks before our baby is born you could see he was torn two ways.  On the one hand he thought that I needed a bit of help from another woman but he wasn’t happy about it being Mary.  She has persuaded Joseph to marry her but she was in the family way before that and the gossip is that it’s not Joe’s kid so our Mary isn’t the most respectable company a woman could have.  Fortunately, whilst I’ve been expecting Zechariah can’t say no to me, (in fact he can’t say anything) so Mary came.

Now I’ve got to be honest.  I’m not proud of this but I thought Mary would be easy to boss around a bit.  She always was an obliging sort of girl and I thought that she should be very grateful to me for taking her in.  After all, by the time she goes back to Nazareth the gossip will have died down and she can get on with married life with Joe, so really I’d be doing her a favour.  Or so I thought.  I thought she could do all the cleaning, washing and heavy stuff.  She could fetch the water.  She could wait on any guests who came to visit our baby.  She wouldn’t need paying and she should be grateful that we took her in.  The more I thought about it the more I liked the idea and you could see Zechariah coming round to my way of thinking.

So I was looking forward to her coming and kept watching out for her so the easier times could start.  Joseph was coming with her to make sure she was OK and I kept looking down the road for the first sight of them.  Eventually there she was, looking dusty and a bit dishevelled so I sat down ready to queen it over her.

I could never have expected what would come next.  The baby gave me an almighty kick like I’ve never known and suddenly I was filled with a huge sense that I’d been getting it wrong.  Somehow the baby let me know that he was excited and happy that Mary had come and even more he was over the moon about her baby.  Zechariah was struck dumb when he got his message from God but all I could do was shout out, “Who am I that the mother of my Lord has come to me?”  I couldn’t believe that I was saying that but I knew it was true.  He is Lord and who am I?   I’m excited about my baby but now I’m excited about Mary’s too.  Somehow I knew that it didn’t matter who I have been - her baby is extra-special and he's going to make me different.

Joe's dream

This year in Pause for Advent I'm looking at those few months before Jesus was born through the eyes of four people.  Unlike last weeks "observer", my thoughts are from a character who is in the Bible - Joseph.  

Dear Mary

I never thought I would ever write a letter like this but, will you marry me?  I know it looks as though I’ve just blurted that out, which I have, but I’ve never been more sure of anything than that I want to marry you.

These last few days have been a real roller coaster.  When I first heard your news I couldn’t believe it.  I thought I was the first in your heart, just as you are in mine and when you told me that you are pregnant I was beside myself but I knew I didn’t want you to have to face public shame  like Miriam did when Elihu found out she was going to have a baby.  I felt so hurt when you told me and then when you told me that crazy story about an angel all I could feel for you was contempt.  It seemed as though you wouldn’t trust me with the truth and you would just tell me fairy stories.

I went to see your dad.  He was so ashamed that he didn’t know what to say to me.  He understood completely that we wouldn’t be getting married and he was so grateful that I didn’t want to disgrace you.  He even thought I was the generous one!  Let’s face it; I thought I was the generous one.  Big hearted me, making things easier for sluttish you - Oh Mary, I’m sorry, how could I ever have thought that?

But last night I had a dream.  I’ve never been one for dreams.  I’ve always thought they were just indigestion but this one was amazing.  You had told me about your angel and I hadn’t believed you, but there was no disbelieving this one.  I can’t describe it but when I woke up I knew that what you had said about your angel was true.  I knew that I had to marry you.  In fact I knew there was nothing in the world I wanted more than to marry you.  Mary, will you marry me?  I’m sorry that I disbelieved you, that I said those terrible things to you.  My heart is filled with love like I’ve never known before.   All I want is to marry you.

I don’t know what will become of this.  The angel told me to call the child Jesus because he will save his people like Joshua did.  I’m not sure yet if I can believe that but let's call him Jesus anyway.  I thought your baby had brought the end to our love but he’s making me love like never before.  I’ll go and see your dad again today and see if we can get married really quickly.  People might still snigger about the shortest pregnancy on record but let them snigger: love is more important than that.  This baby is teaching me a new way of loving.

Mary, will you marry me?

Granny

I'm joining in with Pause for Advent at Tracing Rainbows and this year for Advent I want to look through the eyes of four different people.  We don’t actually know what any of them were doing for much of the time and we don’t really even know the name of today's person but we know that she must have existed for she is Mary’s mother, Jesus’s granny.  The Bible doesn’t mention her or her husband but there is an apocryphal gospel which says they were called Joachim and Ann so Ann seems as good a name as any and that’s the name I’m going to use during Advent.  Today it’s Ann’s thoughts from some time a few months before Jesus was born. 

  

Mary, my Mary, how could you?  I always thought that of all my children you were the least likely to bring disgrace on the family.  And now you have done the worst thing you could.  I can’t believe it of you.

And you have lied to me.  You who were always close to me and we always shared secrets.  I thought you would tell me everything.  I didn’t know that there was a man in your life apart from Joseph, and even now you won’t tell me his name.  You just give me some silly story about an angel.  Angels don’t appear to ordinary people like us and angels certainly don't put girls in the family way!  Did some man deceive you with a holy story?  Was that it? 

My first thought was that it was Joseph but he says it wasn’t.  Oh Mary, how much you have hurt him!  He’s a good man, he’d have been a good husband, but you can’t expect him to take on soiled goods and another man’s child.

Did we protect you too much?  I can’t think we did for you were always with the other girls of your age but their mothers won’t want them to be near you now.  I daren’t think what will happen to you.  There are plenty of men who will think you fair game and we can’t protect you for ever.

Your father is really upset and I can hardly get him to talk about it at all but Joseph came to see him yesterday.  Joe is such a good man, he’s trying to understand why you would betray him like this and he still loves you, despite everything.  He’s not going to expose you to public disgrace and make a fuss about breaking off the engagement but he’ll let it quietly drop.  That’s really kind of him and better than we could have hoped for.  But Mary, why won’t you tell us the truth about who it was?  The father should take responsibility.

I’ve been thinking.  You remember Elizabeth?  Well she’s expecting a baby too.  She’s only got a few weeks to go and I think she could probably do with a bit of help. You could go to her. No-one there will know you and you needn’t tell them you are an unmarried mother.  Elizabeth is a good woman and she’ll talk Zechariah round to letting you stay – he’s so excited that he’s going to be a dad after all these years she can twist him around her little finger!

Oh Mary, I’d always thought that becoming a granny would be so exciting and such a happy time, not like this.  I can’t forgive whoever did this to you.  He should be here with you.  It’s the father’s responsibility.

The shepherd who was late

Last week my American penfriend commented on the other blog that her grandaughter had broken a shepherd from the nativity set and although a new one had been ordered it meant that they were having a variation on the bible story because the shepherd would arrive after the magi.  I sent this story but as I did only three “pauses” during Advent I’ve decided to add this one.

The shepherd who was late

I was pretty cross that night.  First of all something woke me up.  I always feel a bit ratty when I get woken out of a deep sleep and whoever it was woke me also decided that it might be a good idea to sing to me.  They were wrong.  It was a bad idea.

And it wasn’t just one guy who was singing: it was a whole crowd of them and boy were they loud!  “Glory to God in the highest and peace, good will to all men.” 

Well, I suppose that was better than my brother's usual version of the dawn chorus but anything would be better than that.  Somehow though the light was even brighter than it usually is when I wake up and I really couldn’t look.  The singing went on and on and they were going on about a baby born in Bethlehem.  So what?  Babies are born every day.  And about this being the Saviour we’ve been waiting for.  Yeah, right.

Anyway, the light suddenly faded and the singing stopped and it was quiet again and I was ready to go to sleep but the others had obviously decided that it was a good time for a chat.  Idiots.  Then, would you believe it, they decided to go into Bethlehem to see this baby.  Oh wonderful – not!

No way was I going to get up and go down to Bethlehem.  Forget it.  I need my sleep. 

Anyway off they went to Bethlehem and off I went to sleep.

The next morning they were full of it.  They’d seen the baby and his mother and they were in a manger in a cave near the pub just like the voice had said.  They kept going on and on about it.  I got fed up and couldn’t stand it any longer so I went to watch the sheep.

But, you know, they had made me curious.  I didn’t want to know – but I did want to know.  Torn apart I was.

A couple of weeks later it was my day off and I decide to go to Bethlehem.  I needed to see a few people and when I’d finished I went to the Lamb and Flag for a pint.  Or five.

A few hours later I sort of rolled out of the pub and was about to go home when I saw a lantern burning in a field and I could hear voices.  It sounded as though it could be a party so I went over to check it out. 

You have never seen anything like it.  There were camels and pack mules and various servants hanging around and over near the cave there were some fancy looking chaps.  Well, you have to see what’s happening, don’t you?  So over I went and guess what?  They were looking at the baby too.  They’d brought some very fancy presents.  Gold (always acceptable), frankincense which will keep the flies away, and myrrh which will be very handy when the baby starts to cut his teeth.

And so I looked at what had made my mates drool, at what had made these strangers travel hundreds of miles and all there was - was a baby.  But you know what?  He looked at me and he smiled.

You know I think I am the luckiest man in the world.  I saw the strangers, the baby smiled at me, and I didn’t lose my sleep that night.  My mates saw the baby first, but I reckon I did pretty well too.

What on earth?

It’s over forty years ago now but I’ll never forget that night.

It’s pretty cold out in the fields at that time of year but somebody has to be out there keeping an eye on the sheep.  There’s always a wolf about and at that time there were hundreds of strangers about for that census.  I never trust strangers and I wouldn’t have put it past that lot to have nicked a sheep for supper.  Anyway there were just four of us; me, my brother Reuben, and Seth and Ben our cousins. 

It was just gone midnight so we’d got the sheep settled in the fold and we were all of us dozing by the fire.  In fact I think I’d actually nodded off.  Suddenly it was all very light.  Well sometimes you get a flare up of the fire but that would barely last a second and this was much brighter and it went on.  Then there was a voice and I was definitely awake with my hand to my stick ready to fight off any thief.

It was no thief.  I just couldn’t see what it was because the light was so bright but it would be a very odd thief who would sing “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, good will towards men”. 

Reuben wanted to take charge but he could hardly speak.  No, whoever had that voice was definitely in in charge.  And he’d brought his mates and they were singing so loud that Reuben wouldn’t have been heard anyway.  All we could do was cower and listen.  The voice went on about a baby being born down in Bethlehem and that this baby would become the Main Man promised by God.  We were supposed to go down into Bethlehem to see him and we’d find him in a manger.

Just as suddenly as the light had come, it went but by this time all four of us were wide awake.  For a while none of us could speak but somehow we all knew that the sheep were going to have to be left.  We had to go to Bethlehem. 

Anyway, off we went down the hill.  I have to admit that we felt better when we saw that the light had moved to just over the pub but as we got closer we realised that it wasn’t at the pub – it was behind the pub near a cave in a field.  Pity that, I think we could all have done with a bit of Dutch courage.

Anyway, we went to the cave and it was just like the voice had said.  Just a woman and her baby, curled up together in a manger.  Nothing remarkable.  Just a woman and her baby and the old man watching them.

And I know that this sounds daft but the remarkable thing is that it was so unremarkable.  Young women have babies every day.  Husbands look stunned when it’s happened.  It was the light outside which should have been so remarkable and to this day I can’t explain it.

But, you know, the light didn’t mean anything at all.  It was the baby.  So ordinary.  Nothing special.  But somehow I knew things would never be the same again for me.  I can’t explain it; you’ll just have to take my word for it.  Nothing has been the same since that night.

Time gentlemen please.

What is it about those Romans?  They can organise an Empire but can they organise a census?  Whose bright idea was it to say that everyone had to go to their own city?  Bethlehem is heaving with those who claim to be descended from King David.  Ye gods, the man had eight wives and heaven-knows-how-many concubines resulting in at least nineteen sons.  And that was a thousand years ago so there’s plenty of descendants.

And when I say heaving, I mean heaving.   There have been people arriving for days.  I keep the pub here and my rooms here are more than full and everyone’s had to double or treble up.  The little ’uns  have had to come in with me and Hagar, my old woman.  I sent the kids out to everyone I could think of trying to find extra rooms for the travellers.  Everyone’s been trying to help but it’s impossible. 

And then really late a couple came, “Have you got a room we could have?”  I just laughed in his face but Hagar came out while they were there and she took one look at the woman, well more of a girl really, and she dragged me on one side and she started on at me.  “What did I think I was doing?  Couldn’t I see that the lass was obviously near her time?” 

Of course I could see she was near her time but what could I do about it?  Every room is full, and really the girl could do with a bit of privacy.  Her old man doesn’t look too much use but if it’s his first he has my sympathy.  It’s only a couple of months since Hagar had Joel, our eighth and I know things get a bit tense.

Anyway, Hagar had a bright idea.  There’s a cave near the field where we keep our stock.  It’s not brilliant but it’s better than a bivouac.  Hagar got the kids to find some straw bales and they made a makeshift shelter just the other side of the manger.

And I’ve kept the bar running.  It was very busy as all the travellers came for a pint and a yarn.

My mind kept running to that cave though and that young lass.  What a way to have a baby!  Different from our Joel.  Our Joel will be all right.  He just needs to stay out of the way of the Romans and that puppet Herod. 

That lass will have her baby tonight, no doubt about that.  It’s definitely her time. 

When will it be our time?  When will we get a king as great as David?  One day he will come.  We’ve been promised. 

When will it truly be time, gentlemen, please?

Tea Break in the Archangels' Restroom

It was tea break in the archangels’ rest room and it’s no use you telling me that archangels don’t have tea breaks and they don’t have rest rooms.  This is my story and I’m telling you that it was tea break in the archangels’ rest room.  

As always Raphael was there first.  It wasn’t that Raphael was work shy and knocked off first; rather it was that Raphael was the caring sort and he liked to get the kettle on ready for the others to come.  That way he could listen to their problems as they came, soothe their brows and generally do what he was best at - healing.

There was a loud rustling of wings in the corridor, the door was flung open wide and there was Michael.  One glance was enough to tell Raphael that Michael wasn’t having a good day.  Michael had very few very good days.  He was in charge of the winged squadrons and some of those cherubs were enough to try the most patient angel’s patience and no-one could call Michael the most patient angel.  Hot tea with an extra sugar and one of those nice chocolate biscuits wrapped in silver paper was Raphael’s prescription. 

Michael flopped into one of the best armchairs, hugged the cuppa like his life depended on it, gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes.  “Heaven preserve me from cherubs.”  Raphael made suitably sympathetic noises and they settled into a companionable silence.    Nothing needed to be said and they could just contemplate the infinite, which they were quite good at, as you might guess.

After a while Michael asked where Gabriel was and Raphael said that he hadn’t poured his tea as he’d heard that Big G had sent Gabriel on a job and you just never knew how long Big G’s jobs would take.  Michael nodded and once again silence fell on the rest room as they just enjoyed each other’s company – well wouldn’t you enjoy the company of angels? 

And then Gabriel arrived.  He looked so pale that the other two didn’t speak.  Raphael pressed into his hands a cup of strong tea which somehow smelled a bit spiritual, if you get my drift.  He took a huge gulp and then he spoke.  “You’ll never guess what Big G has had me doing today.”  The other two didn’t even try as they knew from long experience that second guessing Big G was beyond anyone, even an archangel.

“He’s only sent me down to earth to tell a slip of a girl called Mary that she’s going to be the mother of his son.  She’s only fifteen.  She lives in first century Palestine.  And she really hasn’t a clue.”

Michael spoke first.  “Is she married?  First century Palestine – that’s occupied by the Romans isn’t it?  And is that creep Herod still on the throne?”

Raphael wasn’t far behind with his questions.  “There won’t be a proper hospital.  And if it’s her first she won’t know how to look after it.  And she won’t have anywhere to live.  Poor little thing.”

Gabriel answered as briefly as he could.  Not married.  Palestine. Roman occupied.  Herod is still the puppet king.  Her first kid.

Michael was the first to recover.  “Not again.  You know what Big G is like.  He dishes out the decrees but leaves us to sort out the details.  You remember when he wanted do part the Red Sea but left it to us to organise the fish tanks or we’d have had a lot of extinct fish that day.  Or sorting the supper for those lions as a thank you for not eating Daniel.  Well, this will give those cherubs something to do at last.  Should put some backbone in them.  I’ll get the winged squadrons in.  Kick the Romans out of Palestine.  Find a better king for Jerusalem.

Raphael had been thinking as well.  “We’d better build a very quick twenty first century hospital.  And organise parent craft classes.  And I’ll get a few cherubs to volunteer to clean a new house for her and set up the best nursery ever.”

By this time Gabriel was beginning to look a bit better.  Not good mind, but better.  “Don’t worry about the unmarried bit.  I’ll leave it for a week or two and then go and see this old man called Joseph and tell him to marry the girl.   He’s a bit old for her but I suppose he’ll take good care of her.  Better that than a toy boy, anyway.  And maybe I should get the kid’s name down for Eton whilst I’m at it”

And so the three archangels started to plan how to improve on Big G’s plan. 

But just then the golden telephone rang.  Gabriel was the nearest so he picked it up.  Immediately he was alert and very respectful.  “Oh yes, your Almightiness.  Yes, sir.  We were just talking.  . . .  Oh, you heard us.  Of course you did.  And we made plans.  Oh you made plans too.  And your plans weren’t like ours.  You want us to . . . . what?  You’re sure.  Well if you’re absolutely sure, sir.  Well, yes sir, you know best.  Thank you, sir.”

He turned to the other two.  “That was Big G.  He says we’re to forget organising a coup to get rid of the Romans and replace Herod.  We’re to withdraw the planning application for the hospital and stand down the cherubs from spring cleaning.  He says that his son is to be just as vulnerable as the poorest of them.  To have parents as inadequate as most of them are.  To be born among the poorest and to grow up among the commonest of them.  In fact he’s going to know suffering and grief like them.  That way, no matter what those humans go through they’ll know that God understands and is right there beside them.”