Locked room mysteries

This is the year I finish the book pile, this is the year of solid savings- enforced - I need a new boiler and they aren't cheap. 

I am still - 8 months later - finishing "40 days John" which has been so good.  But a little reflection goes a long way - bit like too much sweet stuff at Christmas although that normally kicks me into the swimming pool!  Not at the moment as my asthma has flared up nicely.

so, a bit of post Easter reflection which is fairly dozy due to steroid and lots of ventolin.  But it gets me writing.....

The disciples are in a locked room. At best, an atmosphere of fear, anxiety and terrible loss with a candle-flare of hope: this morning brought good news.  Just a shame the key witness is an "unreliable, fairly emotional woman!" The usual males reported similar oddities too but not so much drama. 

So what are they doing here?  They are Jews - I suspect they are praying the evening service, and arguing the law/prophets/writings; the days readings.  And Jesus of course.  He'd taught them to do this style of thinking and they probably hadn't lost the habit even in grief.

What on earth did it all mean?  And they see him standing there in their locked down room. "peace be with you - hello" But more than that - he says it again amidst the predictable uproar. Hugs, shouts? tears?  You fill in the blanks - I did, standing watching from my corner

My response isn't for sharing.  But I talked to him too.

"Subjected to his service Angel Wings"

Yes, well I remembered the quote but had to look it up.  Milton, Paradise Lost.  I studied it at A Level so many years ago but today it was hauled into consciousness.  Although I remembered it as conscripted to his service.  It seemed appropriate..

So, yesterday we had our works Christmas dinner.  A very nice meal indeed crowned by a chocolate tart with caramel icecream.  But in a pub with no alcohol free beer.  I don't have a taste for sweet fizz - I started on ginger beer and a pint of blackcurrant and soda but graduated to a pint of guinness with Christmas dinner. It was going to be a long afternoon!! I'm not very good at "vertical drinking" - and especially feel awkward when the conversation's getting rather slurry around me and the nice lads in the paint shop start giving me one arm hugs....I slide off for a gin and tonic with my colleague/boss in the slightly more sober/older corner and later I think it's time to leave and let them get happily plastered before one of the happy crew spikes my drink!!! All paid for by the firm and something a firm can claim back they tell me.

I make that 3 - 4 units of alcohol in four hours. Which of course is not much but enough to make me feel thoroughly utterly seedy this morning! Heading out to swim and then to spend the very generous Christmas voucher in marks and spencer.  I doze over a saturday early costa coffee and drift into the Cathedral to kill time before the shop opens.

Which is where angels come into the picture.  I wish I had a camera with me or at least my phone.
Paper sculpture angels greet me!  I stroke the soft feathers glued to the card edges of the wings, and notice the wings themselves are comprised of downward facing hands.  Child size hands.  Little child size.  Slightly bigger child size.  And written on the fingers of the hands, words like "hope" "difference" lots of values.  I do have a notebook but I obviously don't have a functioning brain as these are the only words I can remember.  But I remember the stories written on the palms of the hands: "I want to be an astronaut" "I want to work in a cafe and give people drinks" " I want to be a doctor and help people get well" "I want there to be less plastic" "I want children to have a roof over their heads" "I want people to be kind to animals"

Go see the angels.  It's a beautiful cathedral, a lovely antidote to death by adverts and Christmas songs

Hopeful

Two newly weds, bustled, hustled by sellers, crowd into a court of magnificence.  The young man has cradled and smoothed the wings of a dove - a poor man's "thank you" sacrifice.  The young woman cradles her newborn, jostled in the reverence space. Youthful, grateful, hopeful. A healthy first born son!

Wonder, pride, awe - in a word heavy day full of sights, sounds, smells.

And pushing purposefully through the crowd, an aged man, wisdom wrinkled. Simeon asks permission to hold the new baby.  Long promised and hoped for. A promise and guarantee of completed purpose.  His thin worn skin against a new little one's freshness, baby fingers wrapped around his age twisted fingers.

What must he have thought?  I can't imagine the mix of hopeful longing that resulted in the promise of this looked for rescuer.  "A light for revelation to the gentiles, his own people's glory" Huge words.
Simeon's words strike too, a sword in the middle of his joy.

God's timing - impeccable as always.

So it's advent and the above is a small attempt to put into words a little bit of Christmassy reading.  The town is full of racing santas in lycra and woolly hats, red with cold and festive.  It's an annual santa race for charity they tell me.  Santas crowd out costa, I am tempted to cry "Bah humbug" as I wanted a pre church coffee in peace. And there's a massive queue.......