This Nativity scene was handcrafted by trainees at the C.S.I. Katpadi Industrial School
Christmas Letter 2005
All glory be to God on high and to the earth be peace!
Goodwill henceforth from heaven to earth
begin and never cease!
May you know the blessing and peace of Christ this Christmas
and in the coming year.
Anne and Murdoch
Christmas Letter 2005
All glory be to God on high and to the earth be peace!
Goodwill henceforth from heaven to earth
begin and never cease!
May you know the blessing and peace of Christ this Christmas
and in the coming year.
Anne and Murdoch
With dahlias just removed in time
Before the first hard frost
Of this winter’s tale begins
Not in Bohemia but here in Connel
With shining moon at daybreak
O’er the Firth of Lorn
Beckoning another day with pre-Advent intimations
Of Christmas and the hard coming they had of it
Not least by Madness Visible in Bosnia and Herzegovina
Where we were disturbed by images of war
Of bombed out houses and bombed out houses and bombed out houses
Of roadside children selling wild strawberries and jam and honey
Amidst the limestone grandeur en route to Mostar Bridge
Where Paul Lowe’s words came back to haunt us
‘He who builds a bridge will join two worlds
but he who pulls it down will lose them both’
And lose them both, and lose them both
All in the name of religion or of God or of ethnicity?
Of pomp and circumstance and bloody-mindedness
So far removed from lowliness in Bethlehem’s stable
But now enshrined in hill-top crosses
Dominating the skyline as testimony
That Srebrinica’s killing spree may not be over
And that the insecurity of mighty Herod
Still seeks for little children to devour.
And yet there is the love which in a family lies
With friendships never to be broken
And shining stars like Zoran protecting Muslims in the midst of war
And those like Pemba who had seen it all
And in whose ancient eyes and face were etched
In lines too deep for tears the history of humankind
And Hadzira’s most important question asked of Hana
If she had been to Wetherby to see her grandma’s grave.
But then there was Vietnam
Where Ruth returned to train and teach
And sit by Mother Mekong’s swaying bamboos
With moonlight overhead
And Iain in London on that fateful day
So glad he rode a scooter not a bus
And Anne whose hip hooray was done at last
And Murdoch struggling with Gaelic and the book on Milton Keynes
Which may be out by Christmas
When once again the Moon will shine
Not only in Vietnam but here in Connel
And across the earth with everlasting Light
Of prophets searching questions
To each of us to hush the noise and end the strife and hear the angels sing.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Before the first hard frost
Of this winter’s tale begins
Not in Bohemia but here in Connel
With shining moon at daybreak
O’er the Firth of Lorn
Beckoning another day with pre-Advent intimations
Of Christmas and the hard coming they had of it
Not least by Madness Visible in Bosnia and Herzegovina
Where we were disturbed by images of war
Of bombed out houses and bombed out houses and bombed out houses
Of roadside children selling wild strawberries and jam and honey
Amidst the limestone grandeur en route to Mostar Bridge
Where Paul Lowe’s words came back to haunt us
‘He who builds a bridge will join two worlds
but he who pulls it down will lose them both’
And lose them both, and lose them both
All in the name of religion or of God or of ethnicity?
Of pomp and circumstance and bloody-mindedness
So far removed from lowliness in Bethlehem’s stable
But now enshrined in hill-top crosses
Dominating the skyline as testimony
That Srebrinica’s killing spree may not be over
And that the insecurity of mighty Herod
Still seeks for little children to devour.
And yet there is the love which in a family lies
With friendships never to be broken
And shining stars like Zoran protecting Muslims in the midst of war
And those like Pemba who had seen it all
And in whose ancient eyes and face were etched
In lines too deep for tears the history of humankind
And Hadzira’s most important question asked of Hana
If she had been to Wetherby to see her grandma’s grave.
But then there was Vietnam
Where Ruth returned to train and teach
And sit by Mother Mekong’s swaying bamboos
With moonlight overhead
And Iain in London on that fateful day
So glad he rode a scooter not a bus
And Anne whose hip hooray was done at last
And Murdoch struggling with Gaelic and the book on Milton Keynes
Which may be out by Christmas
When once again the Moon will shine
Not only in Vietnam but here in Connel
And across the earth with everlasting Light
Of prophets searching questions
To each of us to hush the noise and end the strife and hear the angels sing.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
