Cruising into Christmas

Christmas Eve 2004
We're nearly there! After the 27-day journey through the waters of Advent the captain of the good ship Rejoice calls the angels to their watch stations. The purser is frantically dashing around checking his supplies, the chef's running on auto-pilot light preparing the biggest scoff-fest for twelve months and in a frantic dash to have enough to go round, the helicopter crews are constantly flying in last-minute provisions and presents before this astounding vessel pulls into port to dock at Port Yule in around seventeen hours time.
Meanwhile, up on the praise deck, the director of music rehearses his amazing combination of trumpets, drums, stringed instruments, mighty organs and the most precious instrument of all, the human voice. The harmony they will create in their heart-stopping performance from midnight is like no sound ever heard on Earth, for this is the music of eternity.
The decorators have been called in, making their customary late appearance to make the forest of evergreens on board sparkle like a jewel chest of treasure as the on-board power plant pushes its pistons right on cue for the final burst of energy needed to ensure everyone has as smooth a crossing as possible over the line into Christmas Day.
No detail is overlooked to make this the loudest, brightest, cheeriest, warmest, snowiest,showiest spectacle the world has ever seen. Agents have been enthusiastically, avariciously even, seeking bookings and making suggestions to would-be passengers on this journey of a light-time for what seems like forever.
It's surely going to be a homecoming to surpass all others as the assembled guests all of races and ranks gather from the four corners of the world in their sumptuously-furnished suites ready to celebrate together in a heart-warming, eye-moistening display of peace and goodwill.

CHILDREN'S CORNER
The little ones are not forgotten of course. Indeed, many say this annual journey was made for them. Sleepy little heads nevertheless find it hard to confine their excitement in anticipation of what awaits at journey's end, the enticing, lovingly wrapped packages under trees dressed like the most beautiful of brides or freely-given presents mysteriously appearing in the middle of the night in a sack, stocking or other suitable receptacle kindly filled by a bearded, benevolent visitor from the frozen north. Chocolate heaven is theirs as tiny tummies prepare to gorge on the finest sweet delights the world's confectioners can deliver.


All seems ready for a perfect end to a journey filled with special moments, as junior performers receive their awards for a million star-struck moments in plays, concerts and services wherever there is a spare space and an appreciative though biased audience. The makers of paper tissues watch profits swell as adult hearts not too hardened by a complex world shed a lakeful of joyful tears at the simplicity and beauty of tomorrow's hope casting off the fears of all the years to simply gaze in wonder.

NO ROOM, NO ROOM
This Advent journey has been full of the most improbable visitors and almost incredible events along the way. Up in the crow's nest, a loud voice was heard crying for much of the journey "Repent and be baptised"! Many scoffed at his words, and his calling claimed from God. Born to elderly parents he was hardly the most likely of candidates for divine promotion. Scorning the countless edible delights on offer below, he settled instead for a strange diet of wild locusts and honey. The powers that be had no time for his wailing and gloom-mongering, and wanted him dead.
Eventually they got their wish, his head on a plate. But not before this man, John, had guided many of his lost fellow-travellers to a better way, or rather THE way, to live their lives. Those who heard his message were the humble of heart who knew the extent of their own awfulness and sought help. John made it quite plain he was not himself the answer, but by following his message, many believed and prepared the way, just as countless millions are preparing today as they have down the centuries. But these people are preparing for a paradox, one of so many in the glorious shared experience which we have come to call Christmas.

I love the December daze which is the last week before Christmas. After all the often painful, joyless, grey, tense, sorrowful waiting of earlier weeks, it has been a delight to participate in events ranging from playing a barmy yokel shepherd in Eastbourne's "Carols Cafe" on Sunday, to singing the part of a king in front of a mixture of indifferent and appreciative Tesco shoppers in Feltham on Monday. It's been a time for celebrating birthdays too: from my own dear younger brother's 44th yesterday, celebrated in both Eastbourne and with delighted surprise in Shoreham, to seeing the delight of a treasured young son of friends turning three on Tuesday and cherishing the un-judgemental friendship and acceptance which he and his young friends and sibling brought to life. But now it's the final countdown.

There's a very different side to this joyful journey story. Down in stowage class, a young woman barely into her teens is about to give birth in the most insanitary, uncomfortable conditions imaginable. Her tradesman husband to be has done his best to make her comfortable, but no room could be found for them in all the comfort zones upstairs. It's an unlikely subject for front page treatment, but tomorrow the real meaning of words becomes true once more. This will be my last posting of my own words before Christmas, but please re-visit on December 25th if you can. Meanwhile, I wish you the most peaceful, joyful and happiest of Christmasses you can have, and God Bless you all.