26 December 2016
The Road to Bethlehem – Boxing Day
Merry Christmas Dear Reader,
Boxing day is a holiday celebrated in Britten and the Commonwealth. “This custom is linked to an older British tradition: since they would have to wait on their masters on Christmas Day, the servants of the wealthy were allowed the next day to visit their families. The employers would give each servant a box to take home containing gifts, bonuses and sometimes leftover food.”
I think we do not realize the sacrifice and effort made by those in the service industries. Those who work in care and protection services are never closed. Someone is always staffing the ambulance, the emergency room, and the police car. They work long shifts with little regular family time.
Restaurants that are open Christmas day provide a place for those who have no place to go for a family meal. The servers sacrifice family time to provide that for them. My favorite diner was open yesterday and nine people were working instead of being with their families.
Today I hope they are all celebrating or resting as needed. People will begin putting away Christmas. They will set aside the songs and the merry making. Some return to work today to talk about gifts and events.
The shops will mark things on sale. The talk will turn to New Years and resolutions. Thoughts of Christmas will be set aside until late next fall. I do not do this. Christmas is meant to be in our hearts every day of the year. I have constant reminders of Christmas in my home, workspace, and car. There is always time for another Christmas time. My annual vow is a simple one penned by Charles Dickens. “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!”
Another Christmas Song – Jethro Tull
Hope everybody's ringing on their own bell, this fine morning.
Hope everyone's connected to that long-distance phone.
Old man, he's a mountain.
Old man, he's an island.
Old man, he's a-waking says
"I'm going to call, call all my children home."
Hope everybody's dancing to their own drum this fine morning ---
the beat of distant Africa or a Polish factory town.
Old man, he's calling for his supper.
He's calling for his whisky.
Calling for his sons and daughters, yeah ---
Calling, calling all his children round.
Sharp ears are tuned in to the drones and chanters warming.
Mist blowing round some headland, somewhere in your memory.
Everyone is from somewhere ---
even if you've never been there.
So take a minute to remember the part of you
that might be the old man calling me.
How many wars you're fighting out there, this Winter's morning?
Maybe it's always time for another Christmas song.
Old man he's asleep now.
He's got appointments to keep now.
Dreaming of his sons and daughters, and proving ---
proving that the blood is strong.
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”
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