My @bronz.beads first time Mahara Midweek Market was a great success today: it was good to be under shelter from the persisting rain. Some other stallholders had pulled out because of the weather, but when people commented we were brave to be out in this weather, I pointed out that if it was sunny, I’d have to be at home mowing the lawns, but instead I was having a nice morning, knitting and chatting and selling jewellery to the nice folks in Waikanae.
It was great to sell two of the four brand new bracelets I made last night, as well as Christmas ‘trinkets’ – and a couple of knitted wreaths and Xmas trees I took along ‘just in case’.
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“This year, may we enjoy this time of preparation, thrilling to angel song and sparkling lights, Snoopy’s Christmas and Silent Night; may the little boy drum for us, and the wise ones’ gifts be ours, as we birth each day the Christ of synagogue and stable. Let us be the gift we long for, after the paper’s discarded and the cards are put away…”
From Space for wonder:
“At this time of year, we can get caught up in the myth, the image of a baby as the fulfillment of hope rather than the start of a lifetime’s responsibility and care, the work of the village, not just the single parent or unstable family. So we hold all parents, all families in our hearts—the wounded and abused, the loved but uncared for, the grandparents exhausted from bringing up children when their own daughter or son is in prison or drug-dependent, mentally or physically unwell…”
from Where are the others?
“As we gather around the child of hope, we’re joined by a heavenly host; the kin-dom of heaven gathers with us—
But where are the others? The brothers and sisters, the half-brothers and step-sisters, the broken relations, torn-apart siblings, the unblended families, the reconstituted ones. All the children with bruises on their bodies; fathers with bruises on their psyches; mothers with bruises on their hearts? Here they are! The jailbird cousin and the crazy aunt. The depressed daughter who’s dragged herself out; the edge-of-hysteria, manic sister; the autistic grandson beind a haybale, rocking; the transgendered, the cis-gendered, the queer and the straight, the birth children and adopted children and fostered children; these fragile families of blood and of choice. All the whanau of Jesus: gathered to celebrate heaven on earth, in the promise of a child…”
“Take time to be aware that in the very midst of our busy preparations for the celebration of Christ’s birth in ancient Bethlehem, Christ is reborn in the Bethlehems of our homes and daily lives. Take time, slow down, be still, be awake to the Divine Mystery that looks so common and so ordinary yet is wondrously present.” – Edward Hays, A Pilgrim’s Almanac
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