Back to morning blogs!
Sitting at staff meeting yesterday, planning when we are going to take children from Nursery to choose the Christmas tree, suddenly made me realise that December is very nearly here. And with it, that huge wave, that has been on pause such last Christmas, is about to crash down upon us again causing Christmas chaos. From Monday, the excitement will be growing like a bubble with a sparkly, white membrane that will burst on Christmas day. It is hard not to find yourself caught up in the excitement of young children as the floors of the nursery and Children' Centre are covered in glitter and every inch of tree is weighed down by homemade decorations, until it looks like Christmas has been regurgitated all over them! Children practice Christmas songs and laugh and dance and sing and cry and stamp and scream. Excitement overkill is exhausting! But there is something hidden behind the merriment that I find hard. I listen to the parents talking competitively and proudly about the amazing electronic toys, overpriced clothes and latest mobile phones they have bought for their children and family and I feel sad. I am thinking of marketing bottles of " quality time," jars of " love and patience," tokens for " an unbroken night's sleep." and a bestseller: " a handcrafted bag of FUN with the television turned off!"
Somehow I don't think it would make me rich. Sounds "holier than thouish," I know, but I struggle with the consumeristic, materialistic frenzy that Christmas has become. I can't help sympathising with the Grinch.
On Saturday the first doors on Advent calenders will be opened and the countdown will officially have begun. And despite myself I will join in. I know there will be moments of magic and lots of delicious food and huge amounts of chocolate. And I will ignore the little part of me that is getting greener and grumpier and bah humbuggier. And I will pretend that I am not plotting how to steal Christmas.
One of our neighbours once told the story of her daughter who, every year, had wanted to play an angel in the Nativity play at school. At last she was chosen. With great excitement she helped her mum make her white costume with gold edged wings. The day of the dress rehearsal was freezing, so her mum helped her dress up warm in vest and shirt. to wear under the costume.
That afternoon her daughter came home from school in floods of tears.
" What's the matter?" her mum asked, " did something happen in the rehearsal?"
Her daughter shook her head.
" I'm not an angel," she sobbed.
"Did they tell you you couldn't be one after all?" her mum asked, anger beginning to flair at the injustice of it.
Her daughter shook her head again.
" No,"she sobbed, " I'm not an angel because angels don't wear vests!"
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