Old Man Christmas

The days close in on the main event, and the visitors are on their way, friends and relatives we haven’t seen for a while, including the “old man”, will be showing up. Last preparations, runs to the store, the gathering of wood, it is all getting prepared. I have met many, and many had met him, but it was the “old man”, who told the best stories. Every night over the Christmas period, he used to read us stories, from his head, the story of the turkey with the three heads, the most entertaining one of all. He had problems with his eyesight, didn’t know where to look!

What was the reason I remember the “old man”. why did others slip from memory, it was one of those questions that is not easy to answer, I suppose when you are small, it’s the great tales you recall as you get older, and the “old man”, well, he loved telling them. I realize now, many years older, and hopefully wiser, he was just passing the tradition on, a bit like Christmas itself, a reminder of other things, amen.

“and there was a slice of bacon for dinner and gravy if we were lucky!”

“did they do dessert?” asked siobhan, her face down

We would always fall asleep before the end. Isn’t that the great thing about a good story, it just lives on, with the help of the “old man”, of course.

In the Heads of us all…..

Can’t cope, can’t concentrate, you keep on running and those problems they keep following us. Life was a field of lava, it was all depending where you were. watching it from afar it’s not serious, up close it can all become consuming. He wondered, the flow of the lava and the human flow, or the race. He wanted to create a sermon that would help the congregation, they had been terrorized to long with the message of doom and damnation. They needed hope, a version of it that would stay in their minds. maybe that is the reason Jesus spoke in story terms: the legend would pass on, and while it may altar according to the sort of people who relayed it, basically, the use of terms common to that particular culture, the nugget would remain the same. That’s it, he saw it. The lava that flowed down the mountain, were the troubles that followed you, the problems you never dealt with, while salvation was the truth, how simple did that sound, how would he put it into the sermon, the performance was an hour away.

Wednesday Christmas Song — Erika Kind re blogged

There are many many beautiful versions out there which I love. But this one is still my favorite and one of my favorite Christmas songs too. It also leads me back to the 80’s. So, there are many reasons I love this song. I know I am posting it every year… but I don’t think […]

via Wednesday Christmas Song — Erika Kind

Dream It!

The congregation was thin, and the empty aisles were bare, he thought if it was himself, was it something he had done, was there a reason. He was dwelling on the day, he wondered if what the young man had said to him, you have to make it interesting, the boy was animated when he spoke, had a thirst for news, the news that changed lives. Interesting, what he had been doing for forty years was more than interesting, it was the spreading of the word, he was getting old though

, tiredness of the spirit was setting in. Many of his friends, had retired, he was one of the older ones with the zest, he had more to give yet. He washes at the basin, watches his reflection in the mirror, what would you do he said as if speaking with his Spiritual self. He let the thought remain in his consciousness as he finished the nightly routine, interesting he sighed, I’m only one man he cried.

Fill the aisles with flowers, what do you mean said the young man, taking orders from the older man. Flowers, we want to make them feel they are in the field of the lord and not some building, atmosphere. There was a van full of multi colored garlands, a gift from a benefactor, they were an over supply from a wedding that got cancelled at the last moment, he dresses the aisle, running the garlands over the oak timbers. The band members are coming up the street, it’s three in the morning, they are on the way home. They notice the commotion at the door of the church, they notice that the door is open, lights are on, but nobody on sight. They stop, they are about to report the matter to the local police, when the young man emerges from the church, a garland in hand, one too many.

The band members listen to his story, the pastor wants to liven things up, and get the Spirit moving so he is redecorating the church!

At three in the morning says one of the members of the band, a big fella, with long sideburns, he looks like Neil Young.

The priest exists the church, where is he gone, where did the helper go! He spots the group outside, the band members he recognizes, they are a famous group. Just when I was worried about the music he sighed looking up. If this doesn’t move the Spirit, nothing else will. He wonders where to stand them when the church has it’s next gathering, on the altar or to the side, he is not worried about them being heard, half the world knows who they are.

The old priest wakes from his dream, it’s seven in the morning, he is refreshed, an idea hits him, communication communication he smiles, did I dream that as well?