A Christmas Party

 

It wasn’t an ideal place to give birth, but a shop doorway was all that there was to be had. Luckily someone had left a box full of old newspapers which doubled as cleaning cloths and bedding, and so the world gained a new son.

He wasn’t any trouble at all, but some sound attracted the attention of a passing cat out on the prowl. It came close, cautiously sniffing and peering, and finding a bit of shelter, settled down against the box.

Later a shadow moving in the shadows turned into a stray dog out looking for scraps. Smelling something interesting it came over and joined the group, snuggling up against the new mother.

Meanwhile, not far away, a pair of nightclub bouncers were pacing to and fro, rubbing their hands to keep warm, and breathing steam clouds out under the lights. They seemed uneasy. “Quiet, isn’t it?” said one, summing it all up in a few words. “I don’t get it, it feels like time’s holding its breath or something.”

“Something’s going on all right,” replied the other. “We just don’t know what it is – yet.”

At that moment a well-coiffed lad in a white cotton shirt, two buttons undone, sauntered self-consciously down the other side of the street.

“Hey guys,” he called as he went by. “You want to see something special, go take a look in Boots doorway. Someone’s just had a baby. He’s really sweet – you should see him.” Then he danced on his way.

 

Contrary to popular opinion, a bouncer’s real job is looking after people, seeing they come to no harm. With a last look around and a quick shrug of the shoulders they were off to find the baby.

They got there about the same time as a small group of Sikhs on their way home from a meeting.

“We are a proud warrior people” said one. “We should be prepared to fight if necessary. We cannot stand by and do nothing when our people are being insulted and attacked in the street.”

“We are warriors of peace” replied his friend. “Peace demands far greater courage even than battle.”

This was when their eyes were caught by the scene in the doorway of Boots. The woman was now surrounded by five strangers and two stray animals. She picked up the child to show them and smiled contentedly. The two bouncers felt their strength desert them and crouched down to get a closer look. The Sikhs were lost for words.

One bouncer asked: “Who’s the father?”

“Someone who loved me” was the reply.

“Is he coming back?”

The woman looked deeply into her son’s eyes. “I think he just has,” she answered.

A Sikh fumbled behind his neck and unclasped a gold amulet. “Here you are, little one. I hope it helps.” He gently wound the delicate chain round the child’s arm.

“Of course,” one Sikh said to his comrade as they walked on, “he won’t remember any of this when he grows up. I mean, for all we know, that could be you or me – or anyone.”

“Indeed” replied the other. “Indeed so. Perhaps it could.”

 

© Clifford Smith 24/12/2021

All rights reserved

It's raining again

Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain
Telling me just what a fool I've been
I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain
And let me be alone again
-John Gummoe

As I sit here in my living room, party balloons pinned to the ceiling, Christmas tree standing merrily in the window - outside, the steady rain pours down from a cold grey sky and the whole world seems shrouded in gloom.

In these latitudes rain is always miserable. In songs llike the one above, in expressions like ‘a grey day’ or ‘a wet weekend’, we are always wishing it would go away. “Rain rain go away, Come again another day” we used to sing as children.

Yet we should be glad of the rain. When I worked as a language teacher in Arabia, rain was a rarity. The weather was pretty much always the same, i.e. solid sun out of a deep blue sky from dawn to dusk every day. When the rain did come however, it was like drowning on land. Traffic stopped, the roads filled with water, people fled to the nearest shelter they could find. But the young children ran outside, shouting, laughing and dancing, splashing in the puddles, their heads lifted back to feel the rain streaming down their faces.

My horoscope for today tells me that this is a day to go out and succeed in my chosen field. Apparently I am full of energy and enthusiasm, with the full force of the planets urging me on. But actually all I want to do is watch the raindrops running down the window and think of all the things I could have done better. Rain always trumps stars.

The meterological forcast is frequently more accurate than the astrological one. It tells me that in three days time the rain will clear up and we shall see some sunshine. Then doubtless I shall feel upbeat and positive, ready to take on and conquer the world, although perhaps by then my horoscope will warn me to be careful. All this goes to show is that my moods come and go just like the weather, while life goes on much the same. So today I’m going to enjoy being sad, and if you don’t like it, come back in three days’ time. I’ll still be here.

Land of the midday night

One of the things I would love to see, but probably never will, is the midnight sun. If I were to travel North to somewhere like Tromsø in Norway around the middle of June, I could stand on the elegant bridge across the Tromsøysundet Strait and watch the sun set over the water, then around midnight it would hover briefly just above the horizon before ascending once again to start the new day.

Of course what goes up must come down, and every year around Christmas time, the sun never quite manages to rise as far as the horizon. The sky begins to lighten around midday but then darkens once more and falls back into night. In Tromsø it requires a special kind of courage and endurance to keep your spirits as Winter approaches. The days get shorter, darker and colder and then disappear altogether into perpetual night. You need to stay strong to survive, but each year some inhabitants find they no longer have that strength; that is why there is a tall fence along the Tromsø bridge.

That is also why all over the world above the Tropic of Cancer, around the middle of December, there are festivals of light: Christmas, Saturnalia, St Nicholas Day, Saint Lucia, Hanukkah, Yule. We need the reassurance of good company, laughter, food, bright colours and light. Some authorities call it a superstitious attempt to rekindle the sun, but that is just a metaphor. We are really keeping the light alive in us.

Spare a thought for those who are alone this Christmas, those whose light has been taken away, whose loved one has died, those who find no joy in the tinsel and glitter. For some, Christmas simply adds insult to injury.

For the twelve days of Christmas the year holds its breath, the days refuse to lengthen, but gradually at first, then faster and faster as we move towards Spring, the light returns. For us too, in our lives, like a miracle out of nowhere, after sorrow, we find peace. May the spirit of peace bring light into your life this Christmas.

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snows

Lies the seed that with the sun's love,

In the spring becomes the rose

The Rose, Amanda McBroom

Winter drawers on

Winter drawers on, as Terry Wogan used to say on his morning radio programme. The nights are drawing in. The days are dim, the nights are dark.

“Dark” is a curious word. It has two different but related meanings. It can be the mere absence of light. Nothing changes when we turn off the light – no scary ghosts, no monsters under the bed. That's just our imagination.

Or is it? Most break-ins occur under cover of the night. The darkest deeds are done in the blackness of night. Who knows who, or what, is lurking in the shadows. We can't see what's there. And that is the second shade of meaning of the word “dark”: unknown. Sinister connotations are never far off. In The Lord Of The Rings we see the Dark Lord, and in Star Wars there is the dark side of the force. How hard it must be for a sightless person to understand.

The dark side of the moon is not unlit, but unknown to us because it is always turned away from the Earth. The Dark Ages refer to the 5^th – 10^th century following the decline of the Roman empire, a time with little recorded history. The Dark Continent, Africa, is obviously very sunny and bright, but was for many years unexplored. “He's a dark horse” they say. (My Aunty Eileen once said that of me)! That is a horse whose sire and dam are both unknown. ["Pierce Egan's Book of Sports," London, 1832].

Amanda Lindblom performs as Santa Lucia during the traditional Queen of Light procession Varfru church in Enkoping, SwedenGetty

The light of the world (http://scpeanutgallery.com/)

After the Dark Ages came the Enlightenment. We could all breathe a sigh of relief – the lights are back on. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. As the year turns upon the solstice we celebrate the return of the light: In Sweden the festival of Santa Lucia (see my website for a video); in the Jewish tradition Hanukkah; In Holland, St Martin's Day; In Thailand, Loi Krathong; Diwali in India; and many others including Guy Fawkes night in England, but most notably Christmas in the Christian world. St John's Gospel says: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Many of those brought back from death by doctors (not just Christians) describe meeting Jesus as a bright light: the light is Jesus and the light is love. Perhaps somewhere deep in our hearts we know and love that light and long to return to it. Could this be the reason why we hate the dark?

May you have a brilliant Christmas.