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Tuesday, 18 December 2018

Confident expectation


Drawers left open. Ropes of tinsel as hillocks on the dining room floor. The table bestrewn with odd bits of wrapping paper, ribbon, pens and scissors and tape. A stack of cards from dear friends and family, waiting to be hung up.

Not a spare inch on the kitchen counters. Half-finished Christmas cake, awaiting the marzipan. Butter softening for baking. Cafetière. Ahh… An open box of mince pies.

Newspapers spread over living room couch and floor. Hats and boots. A box of tissues.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care.

In amongst the mess of preparation, I have not forgotten the hope of Christmas. The confident expectation that good is coming.

Hope.

I’m hanging up my open heart, ready for God to fill it yet again with his Holy Spirit as I welcome Jesus, born again in me. The wonder of it all.

I don’t understand it, but I believe it. Because I experience it. Every day, and especially at Christmas when I remember the love of a God who gave us his only, much-loved son, so that we could be part of the family.

Like Mary, I ponder these things in my heart. And am thankful.

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