MIDNIGHT MASS

Navigating through Christmas as a person who lives alone is tricky. Thankfully, I have the Intrepids, who have managed to leave the Harvey's Bristol Cream alone for long enough to let me come and stay with them until Boxing Day.

So I stuffed some clothes into my rucksack, swooped up the bag of presents, dropped a Christmas card through my neighbour's letterbox (wishing her a Happy New Year of course, and betting that she'd be glad not to hear me practising Christmas carols for the next eleven months) and did a full Chris Rea by literally driving home for Christmas.

Why it's tricky, is that my brain is now wired-up to absolutely love my own space. Here, I can't mutter to myself in the darkness or drain the milk bottle in the middle of the night. There are conversations to be had, traditions to be upheld and debates that must be allowed to rage on, lest time forgets that these things are done in our family at this time of year.

Does a duck float or swim? Which Scrooge movie is the best? Can you see the Northern Lights from the back door? Is it sacrilegious to thump-thump-clap in the middle of The Rocking Carol where the lyric is "We will rock you, rock you, rock you..."? 

It wouldn't be Christmas without those kind of discussions.

I'm here for two days. Tomorrow, Christmas Day will be hectic but will fly past in the usual wrapping-paper, turkey, games, port and cheese type way. The next, Boxing Day will be more challenging. We will be at Nibling-Maximum, a crescendo of hyperactive excitement, sugar and noise. And I won't have a natural escape from that.

So, what I am about to do, is to gain a bit of serenity by attending Midnight Mass at the local village church. We went before, and I remember it being quite good - a full-scale choiry sing-song. While I won't be annoying my neighbour with carols any more, I could definitely go to a thing where some well-trained voices remind me what it's all about.

And what is it all about?

Not whether ducks float or swim; not the difference in quality of Aldi and Waitrose mince pies. It's not even about the sugar-induced Lego-Star-Wars adrenaline buzz of the wide-eyed niblings. It's something much deeper and more profound than all of that  - it's about love expressed to the world through family, hope bursting into the dark in unexpected kindness. It's about showing grace when it's least deserved and remembering the joy that comes to us when we receive it. And it's about being together. Thick and thin, storm and tempest, sunshine and snowfall - nothing is strong enough to keep us apart when God's love binds us together.

And I'd like to remember that. So, if you're still with me, Merry Christmas to you.

And, if you're wondering... it's The Muppets Christmas Carol by a long, long way.