Tag: December Reflections 24

December Reflections 31: my word for 2025

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A roughly drawn compass rose on lined paper has MYSTERY at north, JUBILATION at south west, and INSPIRATION at the centre. The rest is blank.

Still working on this year’s compass, but I have enough to be going on with. Mystery for Christmas, Jubilation for Lammas and my birthday, and Inspiration for the whole year.

When I was thinking about this, I thought something like this: “I want something about space. Breathing space. Exactly that. That moment when you take a breath between verses. Oh. Yes. Of course. That’s what inspiration literally means.”

So I’m thinking of INSPIRATION as something active, something in which I can make a conscious effort to participate, not just something that happens to me. I have to say that it all feels a bit daunting at the moment, and perhaps I should put in something like RECOVERY or RETREAT at north east, but there’s still time to think about that, and in the meantime I’ll concentrate on the “breathing space” aspect of INSPIRATION.

December Reflections 29: my hope(s) for 2025

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A white framed lantern appears to contain glowing yellow stars

The original prompt is singular, but I get dreadfully stressed when I have to pick just one thing I want, so let’s remove the limit and see how far I get.

1. Health for myself and my loved ones, with (where needed) the persistence to shake the system until a useful result falls out;
2. Peace for the world, and respect for human life and dignity;
3. A joyous celebration of this (ceremonial, probable) mid point in my lifespan;
4. The time and headspace to read;
5. The time and headspace to write;
6. The continued expansion of my comfort zone;
7. To get out on my road bike;
8. To tie up loose ends, receive the important decisions (I *think* I know how the big one’s going, but I could be wrong) and be at peace with them, and move gracefully through the year and into the next one.

December Reflections 28: rest

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A tabby cat in a blue fabric cat bed

‘Prehabilitation’ is an expression with which I have recently become familiar. Part of me is rolling my eyes; another part finds it a useful way of saying something quickly: in this case, that making sure that one is as well as possible before the operation means that one will recover from it more quickly.

I’m over my cold, so that’s a good start. And I’ve spent considerably more than the suggested twenty minutes ‘walking outside as you are able’ today. And I’m going to bed very soon, honestly. Because yes, rest is important and I’d like to be doing more of it.

But in actual fact I’ve mostly been preparing by turning the heel of the latest sock so I have some easy knitting to do while I wait for my gallbladder removal (laparoscopic cholecystectomy, if you want to be fancy about it). Call it a displacement activity. I am a bit nervous.

In the meantime, yes, rest. I can only aspire to feline levels of rest, but it’s a noble aspiration.

December Reflections 26: quiet moment

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Christmas tree illuminated in turquoise, blue, magenta and purple, in a dark room

We went out to Wicken Fen today; it was about as quiet as you’d expect of a National Trust site on Boxing Day. (That’s not entirely fair: there were plenty of moments where I could hear the birds – and the squeaks of the pushchair wheel and my husband’s shoes.)

The quiet moment came this evening, when the toddler and I went out for a walk around the block to look at the lights. A few of the illuminations have disappeared (ours will be staying up for the full twelve days), and there were more dark windows than usual (people gone away for Christmas, I suppose) but there were still enough to make it worth the trip. There wasn’t anyone else out: just the two of us, the mist, and the lights.

And then, later, this quiet moment between bedtimes. I love coming downstairs when everything’s dark except the tree.

December Reflections 25: today is…

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The west front of Ely cathedral against a grey sky. A flag is flying from the tower.

… never simply what you expect, is it? I try to say it was quiet, but there was a congregation of hundreds and the organ was going full strength. It was grey, with a chilly dampness in the air that made it feel colder than the thermometer suggested, but the lights are cheerful. (I always imagine crisp, clear, frosty Christmases, with pale sunlight or sharp-edged stars. But how many of my teenage winters were muffled by sea-mists?) The sparrows were yelling in the ivy. Christmas dinner happened on time but not all of us ate it.

A couple of weekends ago I reminded my Cursillistas that the idea of the “perfect Christmas” is an idol of late capitalism, and that most of my pet peeves (singing the last verse of O come all ye faithful, for example) are red herrings, distractions. It doesn’t do to get too attached to expectations.

Because whatever went wrong today, Christ is born, the Word became flesh, modern technology compensates for being hundreds of miles away from the rest of the family, and Christmas has begun.

December Reflections 24: traditions

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A plate of breaded white fish with peas, sweetcorn and potato alphabet letters: some of these spell "Noel"

… are somewhat malleable. No barszcz tonight, I’m not sure if we have any opłatek, and this fish certainly hasn’t been swimming in our bathtub (not that we’ve ever had a carp swimming in our bathtub). Still, it *is* a fish meal. Traditions from my side: tree decorated while listening to the Nine Lessons and Carols. Nobody made mince pies or iced the cake, though; all that’s going to have to wait until my gallbladder comes out.

I’m not feeling up to the midnight service: disappointed about that (it’s very rare that I get an opportunity to concentrate in church these days) but I will revive Pa’s tradition of Not Going To Midnight Mass (And Reading Gray’s Elegy Instead).

December Reflections 23: hearts

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Two Lebkuchen hearts and one star on a saucer, with a string of red-painted wooden hearts

If I were a character in a video game I’d probably be on about three hearts at the moment. Not at death’s door by any means, but having to be a little bit careful. It’s not the time for swishing around with a sword; it’s time to take things easy, recharge a bit.

In human terms, I’m just at the depressing stage of a cold where I’m despairing of ever feeling better again. Of course, this not being my first cold, I know perfectly well that this is itself a symptom and I’ll probably be fine by Christmas. In the meantime, I need to do as little as I can bear to.

Which is a little frustrating, two days before Christmas. It’s not as frustrating as it might have been, because we decided long ago that trying to do trad Christmas with a dodgy gallbladder and a seventeen month old was a mug’s game, so it’s all coming out of boxes this year. But – breaking news! – my gallbladder is coming out this year! So technically I could cook something nice for New Year.

And I do like the idea – but I don’t seem to have the energy or the enthusiasm to do anything more than flip listlessly through Delia Smith’s Happy Christmas. Maybe I’ll recover some motivation between now and then. Maybe I won’t. In the meantime, Lebkuchen come ready made. One of these days I’d like to try making them myself. Not this year, though.

December Reflections 22: one year ago

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In a sunset sky streaked with reddish purple clouds, one patch stands out in startling iridescent pale blue.

I don’t seem to have taken a photo on 22nd December 2023, but here’s a nacreous cloud from the 23rd. And of course this was a leap year, so I did in fact take this 365 days ago.

It’s particularly pleasing to see interesting sky features around Christmas. I remember one year, staying with the in-laws, getting back from the midnight service as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas morning and looking up to see a shooting star. This year, as noted yesterday, it’s mostly been grey – but we’re not there yet.