The first mince pie of Christmas

I felt justified wearing my Christmas socks this weekend as two excited children decorated our tree, an unexpected gift of home made mincemeat arrived and I had the pleasure of attending a Carol service and Charity concert both featuring the vocal talents of my amazing daughter Charis (along with a good injection of seasonal celebration).

My older daughters always remind me that I would not let them anywhere near the baubles and fairy lights in Christmases past. The tree had to be immaculately decorated with perfect symmetry and  adhere to a strict colour theme. Nowadays I am much more relaxed and enjoy watching my two little ones dive in and turn a plain conifer into a magical work of art. I admit to not being able to relinquish my control entirely - I provide the baubles I want hung rather than giving them a free choice of the countless decorations we have accumulated over the years and once they are in bed, I might just reposition the odd offending bauble (or two!)

It took a lot longer than usual to dress the tree this year. Addy was so excited that she literally jumped up and down after every successful positioning of a decoration and Dylan was intent on using his  remote control vehicle to transport baubles from box to tree. It was a delight to watch but not the most efficient use of time.

And time was tight.

On both Saturday and Sunday evenings, we had engagements at my daughter's boarding school.

Babysitters were organised, glad rags donned and we set off on the Saturday to see Charis perform with her chamber choir and an A Cappella quintet in a concert raising money for a charity whose aim is to provide loving, family based care for all children currently in institutionalised settings around the world.   Understanding the plight of the orphans and abandoned childen was heartbreaking and in stark contrast to the jollity of the evening's entertainment. Charis was superb as always, especially with the quintet, performing one of her own Xmas arrangements as well as a brilliant rendition of Hark Hear the Bells in which she was barely able to take a breath for more bars than I could count. In fact, she was so accomplished and confident you could be forgiven for mistaking her for one of the teachers rather than a student. She has come a long way from the odd little girl who wouldn't talk that she once was.

There were mince pies and mulled wine during the interval. My first mince pie of the year is always a bit of an event for me and this was a lovely way to mark the occasion. The mulled wine had the right smell but looked muddy and tasted foul. I am looking forward to finding the right moment for mulled wine at home (a non muddy version) and mince pies made with my treasured little jar of home made mincemeat.

On the Sunday, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and White Christmas were swapped for Christmas Carols and Bible readings in the school chapel. It was a lovely service and the choir sang with haunting beauty. I had forgotten to take my reading glasses and didn't stand a chance in the dim light of seeing the tiny print on the order of service that would have helped me with the words of the carols that required participation from the congregation. I am always surprised by how many of the words I actually know anyway so I sang along in the glass shattering range I reserve for church and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Things got easier during the candlelit part of the service. My little candle shed enough bright light for a miraculous restoration of my sight (and dripped enough wax on my hand to be slightly disconcerting!)

The busy nature of the weekend meant that the kids missed out on their bathtime and I failed to get the costumes for their school play ready. It was a mad dash this morning trying to make them both look vaguely respectable and stuff suitably coloured clothes and tinsel into separate bags to transform them into a twinkling star and a snowflake. I had hardly finished congratulating myself for getting them to school before the bell when I noticed that one of the mothers had provided a shop purchased full star costume for her little thespian. I didn't even know such things existed! The bag I was about to hand over with a sad bit of gold tinsel started to seem a bit inadequate. Then I remembered Dylan telling me that he doesn't even want to be a twinkling star - he wants to be a twinkling shark.

It made me feel a bit better.

'Tis the Night Before Xmas

It's Christmas Eve. The presents are wrapped. There is an air of eager anticipation.

Before we all settle down for the 'last sleep', we have a Christingle service to attend (Charis will be playing all seven Carols to accompany the congregation), Carol singing around the Christmas tree in town (I hope it stops raining!) then back home for a Mexican banquet, scattering the magic reindeer food on the lawn and a new tradition this year invented by little Addy - blowing bubbles filled with wishes. That completed, all that will remain will be to put the mince pie and drink out for a deserving Santa.

I am smiling at the thought of how excited the little ones will be tonight as I tuck them up in their beds. With all the warm feeling that that brings me, I wish all my friends, family and faithful blog readers:

A Joyful and Merry Christmas

Hallowe'en Arts and Crafts Project gets a festive makeover

Getting that Christmassy feeling

How nice to have a few moments to blog, even if it is only while I'm waiting for biscuits to cook for an afternoon of visitors tomorrow.

The last day of term yesterday went by in a blur of activity.

I spent the morning preparing as much as I possibly could prepare in advance for a Xmas dinner with my parents and the afternoon watching my little girl in church with her schoolmates singing Carols. It was a lovely service and although I neglected to pick up the sheet with the words to the Carols, I surprised myself with how many I knew confidently by heart (Hymns and Carol singing featured quite heavily when I was at school).

Back home, it was all systems GO to get the Xmas dinner ready. I made a pie with quorn fillets and homemade mushroom pate that turned out well enough that my dad took the leftovers home with him for his lunch next day.

Despite telling us the interest on his savings was virtually non-existence these days so he would not be spending as much on Christmas presents this year, my dad came laden with festively wrapped gifts and a large Santa sack containing surprises that he was itching to distribute. After dinner, his impatience could be contained no longer. He did not take much persuasion to put on a Santa outfit (probably still a bit sweaty from my Santa Run) and with an exuberant flourish, emptied the contents of the sack onto my coffee table. Sweets and chocolates and biscuits and a packet of monkey nuts (!) cascaded into a tantalising pile of goodies and inevitably, a feeding frenzy ensued.

The kids LOVED it.

Once the initial wave of overindulgence had subsided, I did manage to make some sense of my dad's generous contribution to the Xmas confection, putting some away for the days to come but leaving enough to keep the children feeling thoroughly spoiled.

My parents are amazingly fit and well for their age but they do get tired and do like to be back in their own home at a reasonable time. After they left, we had enough evening remaining to play a fiercely competitive game of Family Fortunes (complete with buzzer that made the trademark 'Uh-Uh" sound when a wrong answer was given). It was great fun.

The following day, my husband and I had been invited to a our daughter's house for mince pies and coffee. Although my daughter and her boyfriend have been a couple for longer than my husband and I have (only just!), we have never been formally introduced to his parents and certainly have never been all under the same roof at the same time. The coffee and mince pie invitation was the opportunity to put this right.

I really enjoyed sitting in my daughter's living room which almost a year ago we had been busy decorating and preparing for them to move in. I remembered how freezing cold it was then and how my fingers would became too numb to hold a paintbrush. Now it was warm and cosy with  lights twinkling on the beautifully decorated tree that was my Xmas gift to them, the smell of freshly made coffee and plates of dainty nibbles. It was perfect.

I spent the afternoon trying to get my kitchen organised for our Christmas celebrations. My husband returned from an expedition to a local farm shop with the little ones with a brussel sprout tree, a sack of unwashed spuds, some odd looking carrots, some beautiful parsnips and a little boy desperately in need of a change of clothes after jumping in too many muddy puddles.

It has been a wonderfully packed, festive couple of days but nothing says Christmas to me quite as much as a brussel sprout tree.

Finding my Religion

As a child growing up with the long running TV show Little House On the Prairie, I loved the idea that the neighbours would come together every Sunday to join in worship in their very understated church that doubled up as a school room in their small town of Walnut Grove. They would always find something to be grateful for and rejoice in. In times of hardship they would support each other, never losing their faith. The church was at the heart of the community.

For some years,  I lived in a small village in Oxfordshire. The village primary school had strong links with the church that was situated adjacent to it. I would always attend the family services when my children were involved and when my eldest daughter joined the choir, I would attend most Sundays to see her sing. It plunged me very firmly into village life and of all the places that I had ever lived, that was the one that felt most like home.

Since moving to Shropshire at the turn of the millennium, my churchgoing has been limited to Christmas Carol Services. I didn't get married in church. Neither of my little ones have been christened.

I consider myself a spiritual person - not a religious one. I live my life according to Christian values but  don't feel the need to talk in terms of loving God and Jesus Christ - just loving is enough for me. I have my own belief system which does not, in my eyes, contradict Christianity but allows for a far greater degree of flexibilty. I am entirely comfortable with it.

Yesterday, I went to church.

The reason behind this sudden change of heart is once again driven by one of my children.

Apparently, there is some concern that not enough young people are choosing to attend church. There was a need for another keyboard player to take some of the onus of responsibility from the elderly organist. The decision was made to try and recruit a young musician. My 15 year old daughter, Charis, was put forward as a candidate.

The vicar came to visit us and meet Charis. She was given a weighty volume of 'Mission Praise'.  She started practising.

Yesterday I took my place on the pews of St Mary's church - a beautiful building constructed from Market Drayton's red sandstone and boasting glorious stained glass windows.

I watched with amazement at how my incredible daughter took it all in her stride, playing perfect accompaniments in a manner befitting a song of worship, which is quite unlike anything she has done before. Clearly, the church are delighted that their initiative has worked out so well and given them someone as accomplished, loyal, serene and mature beyond her years as my Charis. Already she is proving herself to be a tremendous asset.

Being the first Sunday in Lent, the congregation was large (not bursting at the seams like it is for the Carol Service but comfortably full). As a new face among the congregation, I was made to feel very welcome and met some truly lovely people. An overhead projector displaying song words and readings  ensured that the service was accessible and singers with microphones to lead the singing and add harmonies produced a strong, rich sound compared with the embarrassing droning that can all too often be the case. Best of all was the very relaxed attitude towards my little ones. They were happy  colouring quietly in the designated play corner and even happier after the service to be given biscuits and squash.

It was a very pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning, allowing the atmosphere of peace to wash over me and I love the fact that my little ones have had the experience of a new environment and are learning how to deal with it in a very positive way.

I find myself now looking forward to next Sunday. Time out from my busy life in the company of friendly, welcoming people within the impressive architecture that somehow exudes a feeling of calm and awe - it can only do me good. Whenever Charis plays, there will always be a pew with my name on it.