Hello Friends,
Thank you so much for all the lovely letters e.mails and phone calls regarding the death of my poor wee Dee. I have to admit that the last couple of weeks have not been easy but life goes on and with Christmas fast approaching I have just got to let go and get over his death....Indeed today I was perhaps able to help by writing a few words to a near neighbour who has just had to have her little dog put to sleep.
On Friday 9th Dec. We had a Christmas Celebration Evening at church.This took the form of singing carols, which were intercepted by readings, poem etc. Pam my friend and I were both involved I did a reading of a poem about Christmas Eve and the reindeer's...It was well attended and we had a closing collection and managed to raise over £250 for the homeless charity in Bath. That set me to thinking about poems and ones that we liked best etc... for me the John Betjmen poem "Christmas" has always been a fav. a friend of mine actually added an extra verse...we hope Mr Benjemen would not object. As this will be my last blog before Christmas I think I will leave you with the poem including Bronwyn's last verse...
May you all have a very Blessed Christmas, and may each day bring Joy your way in the year to follow..
Christmas by John Betjeman
The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.
The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.
Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.
And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.
And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.
And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?
And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,
No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
But is it all? No, there is more
In compassion and love for us, God came himself
To earth; forsaking heaven’s glory
For suffering, injustice and death itself.
That same God still reigns supreme
And lives today in you and me.
LOVE ONE ANOTHER.
