In an inspired moment, faced with two ten year old boys engaged in an "It wasn't me, it was him!" explanation for their latest fight, I sighed deeply and sent them out into the cloakroom to, "Work on a story I can believe in, then come back and tell HIS side of it ...! " I tell you, I'm good.
The number of fights dropped significantly, because my genius way of dealing them, was just too tedious to repeat.
Happy New Year! Yes, really, it's the beginning of the Church's liturgical year: the beautiful season of Advent. I NEED Advent: the rush of the secular pre-Chritmas with it's intense activity and expectation of being jovial to strangers, is intensely stressful to we introverts. I revel instead, in drawing inwards to the place of quiet, to reflect deeply on the mystery of incarnation.
Do I believe the story of the Babe In The Manger? I believe in the possibility, but without a birth certificate and selfies posted on Facebook, it's impossible to be sure. (.Although, when Barack Obama showed his birth certificate, the people who really didn't want to believe him, still didn't ... Soooo...)
Putting the manger, shepherds and Kings to one side for a moment, there is a truth that I hold very dear:
"God became man and dwelt amongst us"
As a baby in Bethlehem, possibly, yes, but also as every loving word spoken, and every compassionate act undertaken, by every incarnate soul, that ever lived. Me. You. Everyone.
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