A Christmas wish
Thank you, my lovely blog readers, who have read my posts, shared your thoughts and had bookish conversations with me online, in the playground, in the cafe. May you have a wonderful, joyful Christmas.
May you have a moment which makes you laugh so much that you feel uncomfortable.
May you eat something that brings you comfort and pleasure and deliciousness in a mouthful, whether it’s your mother’s panna cotta or your uncle’s home-brewed beer, whether it’s traditional turkey with cranberry sauce or a light salad.
May you choose kindness over irritability.
May you keep your mouth closed, even when you knew this disaster over the unripe avocado from the supermarket at 5pm on Christmas Eve could have been avoided.
May you read a child a Christmas story, and watch their eyes light up while you snuggle close.
May you find exactly the right present to express exactly how you feel about someone you love.
May you feel like you belong, exactly as you are, when you share a Christmas meal.
May you hang the Christmas quilt that you finally finished after six years of sewing! (Or maybe that’s just me!)
May you sparkle like a light at a Christmas gathering.
May you find a quiet corner to catch up with a friend, and really listen when she tells you what’s been going on for her.
May you have enough sleep during December, to sustain you throughout the season of celebrating.
May you bring out a treasured Christmas decoration, and remember.
May you receive just one present which makes you feel understood by just one person.
May you stop for a moment, in all the mayhem and madness, to enjoy a cuppa in beautiful, solitary silence.
May you remember that others won’t celebrate Christmas the way you do, and need a little of whatever you can offer – food, clothes, gifts for children.
May you hear exactly the right amount of Christmas carols – enough so you can’t help but hum along but not too much that you want to throw a shoe at the shopping centre’s loudspeaker.
May you celebrate Christmas the way you want to celebrate it, and not feel obligated to please everyone else.
May you remember to soften just a little, to someone’s request to change things or go back to the old ways.
May you know that even one person is thankful for your thoughtfulness during the festivities.
May your joy bubble up inside you like an overflowing fountain.
May you have many, many moments of peace – in your pyjamas before anyone else is awake, in the garden in your favourite spot, in a cafe in the midst of busy shoppers.
May you feel love, love, love, for all those close to you and all those you don’t know but who need your prayers and help.
May you relax on Boxing Day, knowing that a good book beckons.
May the light of a single candle remind you of the holiness of Christmas Eve.