Memories of Christmas Past

“Christians, awake, salute the happy morn!”

The time was 4 a.m. I awoke from a deep sleep to hear dad coming up the stairs singing his favorite Christmas carol. He had done this every Christmas Day I could remember. “Rise and shine” were his first words directed at me, “breakfast is ready.” There was no “Happy Christmas son”. It was work as usual for dad and my job, even as a twelve year-old, was to help him serve his customers, Christmas Day or not, as quickly as possible to enable him to have at least some time to enjoy the festivities. I hadn't had much sleep, having attended midnight mass, so it was always a struggle to rouse myself from a warm, cozy bed.

Traditional Christmas breakfast was, even at that early hour, always the same. Cold pork pie with an egg in the middle (this I have recently discovered was called a “Grosvenor pie”), pickled onions and HP brown sauce, washed down with a mug of hot steaming tea. Dad must have had a palette of iron as he always drank his tea scolding hot. In fact he could not abide his hot food going cold, as he always said, “hot means hot, not luke-warm”.

I was putting off drinking my tea and blowing on it with the hope of it cooling down, but there was no time for delay. Dad’s customers came first. The milk had to be delivered to enable them to enjoy their holiday.

Cycling to the dairy took us ten minutes or so. The streets were deserted and dark, in those days only one in three or four streetlights were left on from midnight to six a.m. It was more often than not very cold, not helped by the strong winds blowing off the North Sea and usually raining. I cannot ever remember a white Christmas, but can remember many wet ones.

It didn’t take long to load the milk float. I was used to lifting the metal crates of pint, half-pint and even quart glass bottles of “pasteurized” (silver top), “TT (tuberculin tested)” (red top) and “Jersey” (gold top) milk. As I often helped Dad during school holidays - not that I was expected to, I just loved doing it, making me feel grown up I suppose – I knew all of his many customers and their orders, so unless there was a change in the order, we didn’t talk much. I delivered on the left side of the road whilst Dad looked after the right (drivers’ side).

We had usually finished and were back home for hot mince pies by 8:00 a.m. After a quick change, I then joined Mum and some of my paternal family (although not Dad) by attending Christmas morning mass at the local R.C. Church. Even though Mum was Church of England, she had been educated at a Roman Catholic school (I never did find out why), so we had to sit out the Communion.

By the time we had Christmas Dinner, which Dad had prepared and got started, it was time for a great English tradition - "The Queen's Speech". Dad an I normally took a nap before walking to my aunt's home for the family get together. After yet another enormous meal we retired to the rarely used parlor, where a coal fire was already roaring away. With an Uncle tickling the ivories we always had a sing-song, gradually getting hotter and wearier as the evening progressed. Around 11:00 p.m. the women would disappear into the kitchen and after a while, a head would pop round the door to state, "Supper's ready".

How we ate all that food I'll never know, but by the time Christmas Night turned into Boxing Day, we were walking home and were ready for bed as, of course, the next morning milk had to be delivered again.

By the way, I can never hear or sing "Christians, Awake", without remember my very happy childhood, thanks entirely to a wonderful, loving family.

Thoughts of Easter

Is it me, or did Lent seem like more than six weeks this year? Surely it was well over that time when we celebrated Shrove Tuesday at our Pancake Supper, cooked for us by our friends from the Episcopal Center at Duke? Was it that we were celebrating the Daily Office by using the not so familiar Rite I? Perhaps it was due to the fact that I felt more penitent?

Whatever the reason, the coming of Palm Sunday and Holy Week did come and was welcomed.

We have at our church, what I think is a pretty unique family. I’ve talked before about our wonderful Fellowship, but it goes much further than sharing a meal with like-minded committed Christians.

Our Table Fellowship that follows each weekday Morning Prayer gives an opportunity to talk, laugh and yes, sometimes cry with a wide variety of people, some homeless, some not, but nevertheless needing more than that plate of breakfast casserole, eggs, cereals, toast and coffee. Loving thy neighbor is not always easy believe me. I struggle daily with doing just that. There are challenges to our faith on a daily basis, but I know that with God’s help we can overcome them.

Returning to the Easter theme, the eve of Palm Sunday saw seven of us weaving palm crosses. Sharing conversation, experiences, humor and of course food. I’ll be the first to admit that my crosses were not as artistic as A’s, who hails from the Lebanon and was teaching us beginners with wonderful patience. But what a gratifying experience it was – nothing technical, nothing sophisticated, but enjoying the four thousand year art (or attempted art in my case) with, as A. proudly says, “Our nearest neighbor to the Biblical lands”.

Holy Week was busy for us. Jokes were made about “our car is on auto-pilot”, or “perhaps we should bring our beds to church,” but seven liturgies marking Christ’s death and celebrating his resurrection between Wednesday evening through Easter Sunday have to be the highlight of the year.

After our short, but moving, Holy Saturday morning service, I was seconded to help our wonderful Altar Guild. I didn’t have much choice (only joking) as I am married to one of their members. But after an hour or so of cleaning and polishing, especially the church brasses, I realized what another important example of fellowship this was.

After six flowerless weeks and veiled crosses, our sanctuary became alive again. A resurrection no less. As later in the day we commenced the Great Vigil, being led into a darkened church by the Paschal Candle, we knew, all of us, that hope, with the light, would soon spring from Christ’s Resurrection. After renewing our Baptismal Vows it was my task to turn on the lights. Never has Alleluia been shouted with such gusto (well, not since last Easter at least) and a wonderful feeling of joy and yes, relief, swept over the congregation who knew that Christ Had Risen, Indeed.

Easter Sunday, without doubt, my favorite day of the year, saw a packed church enjoy and praise the Resurrection of Our Savior. I was on acolyte duty and admit that together with the relief and joy I could feel tears of emotion – tears of joy especially at what was something new for me. T, a regular at Daily Office and a professional choreographer and dancer, enriched our celebration with his liturgical dancing. Thank you T. Indeed thank you to our music director, choir and musicians. And a big thank you for Altar Guilds everywhere, but especially to ours at St. Joseph’s, who tirelessly work to prepare God’s church for worship and the Lord’s Table for us to share in the Resurrection throughout the year.

Thanks be to God. Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!

A Busy Breakfast

A busy breakfast fellowship followed Morning Prayer this morning after we had celebrated the life of Timothy and Titus, faithful followers of Saint Paul. Just as I was locking up the church, M came over and explained he needed to get back to Raleigh after receiving some medical treatment. He was obviously anxious and declined breakfast, but was grateful for the help we gave him to get home.

Courtney, Dave and Gail had breakfast well under way by the time I got back into the parish house. B, a regular, who now has his own accommodation, brought M for breakfast. M who has been staying with B, was obviously so grateful and was busy organizing his and B’s grocery list - another case of “the poor helping the poor” - certainly a reminder to us all. Will, who had attended Morning Prayer, popped in to say hello and drink his daily OJ, whilst big S was cheerful as usual and managed to put a smile on everyone’s face – a wonderful gift of his.

The every faithful Dave and Tony were as usual, deep in conversation, while Jodi was organizing her two-year old’s breakfast of Cheerios.

Tuesday breakfast is always fun and could never be dull, especially with Courtney and Gail in form. At the 194^th Annual Convention of the NC Diocese last weekend, Bishop Michael Curry continued and expanded his “All Are Welcome” theme from last year. I thought of his words as I buttered my toast, drank my coffee and enjoyed the fellowship of our brothers and sisters. I felt welcomed by all those present. Praise God.