DECEMBER 2016 AND JANUARY 2017

The Angel Gabriel speaks to Mary. Jesus is born. The Wise Men visit baby Jesus.

WADDINGTON STREET UNITED REFORMED CHURCH,

DURHAM CITY DH1 4BG

Church Website: www.durham.urc.org.uk

2.

Friends,

The birth of a child, any child, is generally a reason for rejoicing. And, in this Christmas season,

Christians the world over are celebrating the birthday of the Christ child who came to us more than

2,000 years ago. But in so many places children are daily born into danger. Mothers in Aleppo and

other parts of Syria: births in Somalia, the Yemen, Afghanistan and other places of conflict are not

reasons for joy but fears for the future of these new lives. While we may sing, “O! come all ye

faithful” we should remember, and with gratitude, that our situation can never equate to what so many

others have to endure.

The immense success of the recent “Children in Need” appeal in the UK demonstrates what a

wellspring of generosity exists in our society. As also the response to local and nationwide requests

for foodbanks/clothing appeals to meet the needs of the homeless and refugees.

You know, at this time of year I often find myself wondering at the patience and the trust that Joseph,

such a devout Jew, showed in his obedience to his God. His fiancée had become pregnant. He

didn’t know who the father was. God told him to marry Mary nevertheless. And thankfully he did!

That step in faith gave rise to our planet-wide religion which, though it may seem to be declining in

Western culture, is growing elsewhere to the glory of God.

For so many this has been a year of disappointment, illness, bereavement and separation. But as new

lives are born and characters formed and developed, we can justifiably look ahead with confidence,

knowing that all things remain in God’s hands. May I wish us all a joyous, peaceful Christmastide

with the promise of Jesus’ blessing.

Ian Graham

3.

DATES FOR YOUR DIARY AND CHURCH NEWS

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Church Services are on Sundays at 10.45 a.m.

Ministerial Services – Anyone requiring the services of a Minister should contact the

Church Secretary – Donald Mackay: Tel: 0191 – 383 2110 _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

PLEASE NOTE: The Church’s website can be viewed at: www.durham.urc.org.uk

If anyone has news or dates or photos that they want included they should send the information

to Lucille Thomson at lesthomson@talktalk.net and she will pass it on to the correct person.

_________________________________________________________________________________

WEEKLY NOTICE SHEETS - Please forward details of items and events for the weekly notice

sheets to - Peter Galloway - telephone 0191 386 3652 or email pagalloway@hotmail.com

_________________________________________________________________________________

COPY DATE FOR THE FEBRUARY 2017 REVIEW IS – SUNDAY 22nd JANUARY 2017.

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There will be a Church Meeting on Sunday 22nd January 2017 in the hall after the service. _________________________________________________________________________________

The CHRISTIAN AID LUNCH held at Church on Sunday 30th October 2016 raised £390.00.

Thanks to those who organised this, attended, helped in any way or donated – it is an excellent sum.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Durham Big Christmas Sing

Do you get the feeling that shoppers at Christmas miss the central

figure of Jesus in their pursuit of happiness? Then help enlighten

them with songs of the season, at a gathering of Christians singing

carols. We will join our Christian partners the Salvation Army band

at 11.45 a.m. for half an hour of accompanied carols. Then we will

share a rota of singing groups from St. Cuthbert’s RC church, and St.

Oswald’s church until 1.00 p.m.

We have been given permission by the market company to collect money in a static bucket for

Christian Aid, but no rattling of tins or wandering about seeking donations if we want to keep this

legal. Please support the URC's Big Christmas Sing, Saturday 17th December 11.45 a.m. to 1.00

p.m. on Durham Market Place. Please let me know if you plan to come along 0191 3721004.

Melanie Eve _________________________________________________________________________________

The front cover is from photographs taken in the 13th century

chapel in Leeds Castle, Kent. The chapel was built in honour of

Eleanor of Castile, wife of King Edward I with whom she had 16

children, one of whom became Edward II.

Eleanor was better educated than most medieval queens, and

exerted a strong cultural influence on the nation. She was a keen

patron of literature, and encouraged the use of tapestries, carpets

and tableware in the Spanish style, as well as innovative garden

designs. She was also a successful businesswoman, endowed with

her own fortune as Countess of Ponthieu. (Wikipedia)

4.

The following is an excerpt from a letter to the Banisters from Christopher Peskett.

Dear Judy and Arthur,

Hello once more. I do hope that this finds you and your large family well. Here our

nurse workshop (2 weeks) finished. The nurses seemed to find it interesting and educational, which

was good to know. Now I have to concentrate on assisting my national staff nurse supervisor with

management skills - little time in which to do this.

I think you are having to face some inclement weather there. Here the weather is decidedly colder

now - has an English autumnal feel- even using blanket at night sometimes. Not that I am nostalgic

(yet!) for the awful heat and humidity of only a short time before.

I am now looking at Christmas holiday but still cannot clarify dates as need to discuss more here. I

look forwards very much to being home once again. Just wish it could be more than two weeks

although this not of course possible. I am afraid this is just a short mail. If I write again I will try

and include more. However will be very nice to hear how you are all doing and look forwards to this.

Goodbye for now, Yours, Chris.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Christmas card appeal this year is for Christian Aid. This is where

folks can just send one card to the congregation for display in the vestibule and

give a donation if they so wish in lieu of cards they would have sent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter Galloway has been appointed Church Organist / Choirmaster at St Mary and St Cuthbert's Parish Church, Chester le Street, where he is responsible for Sunday evening services, Thursday morning services, and for leading the choir. This position does not affect his duties here at Waddington Street, where he remains our organist. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the Church comes the sound of singing,

Gaily and loudly the Church bells are ringing.

Jesus’ birth is calling to sister and brother –

“Merry Christmas”, people cry to one another. (L. Thomson)

A blessed and peaceful Christmas to all readers of The Review.

5.

EDITOR’S LETTER

DEAR READERS,

People smile when I tell them how I found Jesus in the Hospice shop where I am a Volunteer. There

was a small carved wooden item and I could not see the point of it or decide what it was meant to be.

I asked the shop Manager and he told me to stand back and look at it again. I did so, from several

distances, but still nothing. He told me to look between the carvings and there it was, J E S U S.

I couldn’t understand how I could have missed seeing it when it was now so plain to see, in amongst

the ornate carving. I was obviously looking in the wrong place at first and in the wrong way.

In this festive season it would be all too easy to lose sight of Jesus in the hustle and bustle of

preparations and among all the glitter and commercialism. Maybe I will have to remind myself to

step back and give Jesus a chance to shine out as He brings His wonderful message of love to the

world. This poem is from “The Forgotten Bridegroom” by Ruth Russell and is used with permission.

The Forgotten Bridegroom “It’s Advent time, and I don’t need to tell you

That Christmas will be here soon.

Who could forget? For card and gift catalogues

Have been out since the beginning of June!

We’re all geared up for the doing and buying,

But do our souls know where they’re heading?

It’s a bit like forgetting to prepare for marriage

Whilst we’re planning the perfect wedding.

As Jesus watches us prepare the Great Feast

For his birthday, does he feel a little left out?

Like the forgotten bridegroom watching from the wings

Whilst the women all bustle about?

What will HE feel and be thinking just now

As we hurtle towards Christmas Day?

Will He be closely involved in our plans,

Or would we prefer him out of the way?

Watch over me, Lord, and be my Guest,

Share with me in all that I do;

For the saddest thing this Christmas would be

To ignore or lose sight of you.

[REVELATION 3:20 (G.N.B.)

Listen! I stand at the door and knock; If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come

into his house and eat with him, and he will eat with me.]

May you know the peace, love and joy of Christmas. I also wish all of you a Happy, Healthy and Prosperous New Year.

Lucille Thomson.

The next issue of The Review will be published on Sunday 5th February 2017.

Contributions please to Lucille Thomson at church or BY POST or Tel. 0191-3861052

or e-mail lesthomson@talktalk.net - no later than NOON on Sunday 22nd January 2017.

6.

THEY’RE PLAYING MY TUNES

They’re playing my tunes!

In shopping centres I can hear

Jazzed-up versions to please the ear,

Of songs which glorify my coming

Down to earth. Listen! People humming!

I walk amongst them. Don’t they know I’m there?

Are all so blissfully unaware?

Yet they’re playing my tunes.

My words are being sung!

Not live by carollers as of yore.

But canned and blared outside a store,

Where a teddy bear raffle attracts a crowd,

(Or is it the carols being played so loud?).

I see folk longing for something that’s free.

If only they’d turn and recognise ME,

While my words are being sung!

They’re singing my praises!

Real people who know me and aren’t afraid

To stand up for me in the world that I made;

With guitars and flutes, and smiles on their faces

To show how they love me, even in public places.

What joy for me to stand alongside them

As they repeat the story of Bethlehem!

Yes, THEY’re singing my praises!

Colossians 3:16 (G.N.B.)

Christ’s message in all its richness must live in your hearts …

Sing psalms, hymns and sacred songs; sing to God with thanksgiving in your hearts.

[From The Forgotten Bridegroom by Ruth Russell. Used with permission.]

JESUS LOOKS IN ON THE CHOIR The choir is at it again, The conductor’s baton is raised,

The sopranos strain to reach the top note, The tenors look slightly amazed;

The altos’ eyes are glued to the page, The basses sing deep down below,

With resolute minds they are working apace, For a concert in a week or so.

It cheers me to see them so ardent, In perfecting their vocal skills;

I look forward to hearing the finished result, When the public the concert-hall fills.

But will the Christmas message in song, Reach the hearts of the audience there?

It will if the hearts of the singers are right, And they’ve backed their hard work with prayer!

Colossians 3:17 (G.N.B.) Everything you do or say, then, should be done in the name of the Lord

Jesus, as you give thanks through him to God the Father.

[From The Forgotten Bridegroom by Ruth Russell. Used with permission.]

7.

[“I felt that the story of the birth of Christ could be thought of in a modern way; so Joseph and Mary

became ‘Joe’ and ‘Mari’.”] [Text from THIS IS THE MORNING OF MY LIFE A Garland of

Poems by Kristin MacEwan. Used by kind permission of Kristin’s family. Kristin spent the last 8

years of her life on dialysis and proceeds from her book go to the Polycystic Kidney Disease Charity.]

A Modern Miracle

It was Christmas Eve

And the snow was deep.

There was silence, not a sound

The car got stuck in a snowdrift

With wheels way up off the ground.

Joe pushed the door open and

Shot into a drift, got up and ran fast to a light,

While Mari crouched down in the car

Trying to keep herself warm

Watching Joe’s distant flight.

Suddenly a tall shepherd lifted her up

And carried her away to his farm.

The snow kept falling, white feathered bright

As he brought her inside the barn.

Mari called out:

“The pain it’s bad, I can’t take any more!”

“Keep strong Mari,” Joe urged her,

“You really must try”.

“It’s like red hot apples tearing me apart,

“I’ll die, I know that I’ll die”.

The next moment, there was a great rush of blood,

And a baby began to yell.

Mary held her boy child close in her arms,

Full of newborn smell.

“Don’t you worry Lass” the shepherd said,

“Here you’ll be safe and sound”.

“Put the babe like a lamb in this manger.

I’ll lay a blanket for you on the ground”.

In the morning Mari woke with a start

“Joe, we’ve nowhere to lay our head”.

“You can live in the cottage just up the lane”,

The gentle shepherd said.

“And Joe you can work with the lambs,

There’s always too much to do”.

There were angels in the air that night

Singing for those special two.

The sky was clear on that Christmas morn

As the dawn began to glow.

The family huddled close round the embers bright,

Snug from the cold and the snow.

Miracles happen every day, well – didn’t you know?

8.

Village Carol Singing in the 1960's and the 1970's

I was raised in a hamlet of six houses near the village of

Falstone, Northumberland and our family attended Falstone

Presbyterian Church. Our church, built in 1709, in 1960's had a

membership of over 100. Each year in the middle of

December, along with some folk from St. Peters C of E, we

devoted two evenings to carol singing in Falstone and a few

small hamlets in the valley. We mainly used the Bethlehem

Carol sheets which, being covered in nativity scenes, were

difficult to read by torchlight. Mostly though, most of us knew

all the words to the carols.

We would spend one evening singing in the village of Falstone

and a hamlet of about 10 houses a couple of miles away on the north side of the valley. On the

second evening we would sing at six small hamlets on the south side of the valley, as well as a

number of single dwellings and farmhouses. Some of these hamlets are no longer there, having been

long since flooded by the huge Kielder Water reservoir. Most consisted of five to ten scattered

houses, but there was also a small Forestry Commission settlement of twelve semi-detached

bungalows.

There were usually between six and a dozen of us, sometimes more. Ages ranged from about 8 to

over 70. My father played a concertina, our next door neighbour played a descant recorder, a

schoolteacher played guitar or recorder and her husband played a violin. In later years the rector's

son played a trumpet. We rarely had all those instruments at once but my father's concertina was

ever present. My memory may be playing tricks on me, but the weather nearly always seemed to be

cold and frosty with clear starry skies, often with snow on the ground.

The older folk among us knew the few people who wouldn't want us to call so their houses were

missed, but we tried to visit all the rest of the houses in our part of the valley. We also knew who

was hard of hearing and made sure we knocked hard on their doors before we started. We usually

sang just two verses of each carol. Some people, even though they didn't attend church, would ask

for another carol that they were fond of. They often joined in with the singing and on the odd

occasion people would put their coats on and come with us for a short time. There were always a

few houses where we would be brought ginger wine or juice for us kids and fruit cake, mince pies or

shortbread.

At a handful of other houses, where members of our carol singers lived, we would go in out of the

cold to have a bite to eat and something warming to drink. At our home, we would gather round the

piano too, and it was there that the evening would end for the youngest members of our family.

I remember one house in a small terrace of six houses, where a middle-aged and somewhat easy

going bachelor lived. He was a forest worker, immensely strong and played rugby for the local team.

We would be invited in and sat to sing for him seated on wooden crates, which were his seating. His

floor, instead of being carpeted, was covered with sheets of newspaper, which he burned on the fire

every week before laying down fresh papers. At one side of his fireplace, on the floor, was a pile of

logs and on the other side was a heap of coal.

At another house, near the village rectory, there lived a middle aged woman who the village children

were scared of. We had heard stories of her being crazy. To get to her house, the carol singers had

to negotiate a grassy path down the side of a paddock. We never knew what sort of reception we

would receive. Mostly she would come out and listen to us with a smile on her face and give

generously, but sometimes she would refuse to open the door and shout at us to go away.

9.

Everyone in our village and surrounding area knew everyone else, and my mother,

who was born and raised there too, knew which carols were the favourites at certain houses,

so we always sang their favourites for them. When we sang at houses along the south side of the

valley we always finished at a remote farmhouse a few miles up a side valley where two elderly

bachelor brothers lived. They loved our visit, even though neither went to any church. Without fail

we would be invited into the farmhouse kitchen with its stone flagged floor and roaring fire in a

blackened range. Like our own home, clothes hung from ceiling airers to dry, but unlike our house

they didn't have electricity, so paraffin lamps hung from meat hooks on the wooden ceiling beams.

These two brothers were always prepared for our visit and had shortbread, fruit cake, mince pies, tea,

ginger wine or whisky for anyone who wanted refreshments. We often left there after 10.00 p.m.,

even though we started the evening at the first house at 6.00 p.m.

Over the years, church membership fell and people moved away from the area. Kielder dam was

completed, much of the valley was flooded and there were 30 fewer houses to visit. We found that

many of the incomers to our valley didn't answer their doors to us and there were fewer folk willing

or able to come along and join our carol singers. My father was the only person left that had or could

play a musical instrument and his eyesight was failing, as well as his ability to cope with the tiny

buttons on the concertina. By the late 1980's it was too much for the elderly folk to go out in the cold

winter nights and young people were too busy or not interested, so the decision was made to cease

this once magical event.

Angus Robson.

A Christmas poem [From Rainbows Through the Rain by Dorothy Anderson, used with permission.]

Christmas bells are ringing,

Softly through the snow,

Hear the carol singers,

As they on their journey go.

Though the skies be heavy,

And the road seems long,

They still are bright and merry,

Singing their Christmas song.

The star in the East shines brightly,

To guide them on their way,

To that lowly little stable,

Where the Infant Jesus lay.

10.

Papa Panov's Special Christmas

It was Christmas Eve and although it was still afternoon, lights had

begun to appear in the shops and houses of the little Russian

village, for the short winter day was nearly over. Excited children

scurried indoors and now only muffled sounds of chatter and

laughter escaped from closed shutters.

Old Papa Panov, the village shoemaker, stepped outside his shop to

take one last look around. The sounds of happiness, the bright

lights and the faint but delicious smells of Christmas cooking

reminded him of past Christmas times when his wife had still been

alive and his own children little. Now they had gone. His usually

cheerful face, with the little laughter wrinkles behind the round

steel spectacles, looked sad now. But he went back indoors with a

firm step, put up the shutters and set a pot of coffee to heat on the

charcoal stove. Then, with a sigh, he settled in his big armchair.

Papa Panov did not often read, but tonight he pulled down the big old family Bible and, slowly

tracing the lines with one forefinger, he read again the Christmas story. He read how Mary and

Joseph, tired by their journey to Bethlehem, found no room for them at the inn, so that Mary's little

baby was born in the cowshed. "Oh, dear, oh, dear!" exclaimed Papa Panov, "if only they had come

here! I would have given them my bed and I could have covered the baby with my patchwork quilt

to keep him warm."

He read on about the wise men who had come to see the baby Jesus,

bringing him splendid gifts. Papa Panov's face fell. "I have no gift that I

could give him," he thought sadly. Then his face brightened. He put

down the Bible, got up and stretched his long arms to the shelf high up in

his little room. He took down a small, dusty box and opened it. Inside

was a perfect pair of tiny leather shoes. Papa Panov smiled with

satisfaction. Yes, they were as good as he had remembered - the best

shoes he had ever made. "I should give him those," he decided, as he

gently put them away and sat down again. He was feeling tired now, and

the further he read the sleepier he became. The print began to dance before his eyes so that he closed

them, just for a minute. In no time at all Papa Panov was fast asleep.

And as he slept he dreamed. He dreamed that someone was in his room and he knew at once, as one

does in dreams, who the person was. It was Jesus. "You have been wishing that you could see me,

Papa Panov," he said kindly, "then look for me tomorrow. It will be Christmas Day and I will visit

you. But look carefully, for I shall not tell you who I am."

When at last Papa Panov awoke, the bells were ringing out and a thin light was filtering through the

shutters. "Bless my soul!" said Papa Panov. "It's Christmas Day!" He stood up and stretched

himself for he was rather stiff. Then his face filled with happiness as he remembered his dream.

This would be a very special Christmas after all, for Jesus was coming to visit him. How would he

look? Would he be a little baby, as at that first Christmas? Would he be a grown man, a carpenter -

or the great King that he is, God's Son? He must watch carefully the whole day through so that he

recognized him however he came.

Papa Panov put on a special pot of coffee for his Christmas breakfast, took down the shutters and

looked out of the window. The street was deserted, no one was stirring yet. No one except the road

sweeper. He looked as miserable and dirty as ever, and well he might! Whoever wanted to work on

Christmas Day - and in the raw cold and bitter freezing mist of such a morning?

11.

Papa Panov opened the shop door, letting in a thin stream of cold air. "Come in!" he shouted across

the street cheerily. "Come in and have some hot coffee to keep out the cold!" The sweeper looked

up, scarcely able to believe his ears. He was only too glad to put down his broom and come into the

warm room. His old clothes steamed gently in the heat of the stove and he clasped both red hands

round the comforting warm mug as he drank. Papa Panov watched him with satisfaction, but every

now and then his eyes strayed to the window. It would never do to miss his special visitor.

"Expecting someone?" the sweeper asked at last. So Papa Panov told him about his dream. "Well, I

hope he comes," the sweeper said, "you've given me a bit of Christmas cheer I never expected to

have. I'd say you deserve to have your dream come true." And he actually smiled.

When he had gone, Papa Panov put on cabbage soup for his dinner, then

went to the door again, scanning the street. He saw no one. But he was

mistaken. Someone was coming. The girl walked so slowly and quietly,

hugging the walls of shops and houses, that it was a while before he

noticed her. She looked very tired and she was carrying something. As

she drew nearer he could see that it was a baby, wrapped in a thin shawl.

There was such sadness in her face and in the pinched little face of the

baby that Papa Panov's heart went out to them. "Won't you come in," he

called, stepping outside to meet them. "You both need a warm by the fire

and a rest." The young mother let him shepherd her indoors and to the

comfort of the armchair. She gave a big sigh of relief. "I'll warm some

milk for the baby," Papa Panov said, "I've had children of my own - I can

feed her for you." He took the milk from the stove and carefully fed the

baby from a spoon, warming her tiny feet by the stove at the same time.

"She needs shoes," the cobbler said. But the girl replied, "I can't afford shoes,

I've got no husband to bring home money. I'm on my way to the next village to

get work." Sudden thought flashed through Papa Panov's mind. He remembered

the little shoes he had looked at last night. But he had been keeping those for

Jesus. He looked again at the cold little feet and made up his mind.

Come follow the wise men, Mary, rock your babe upon your knee, To the stable in Bethlehem. You know the kind of man He will be.

Pay homage to the baby and He’ll bring God’s word to life

Acknowledge Him King of all. And gain for mankind – eternity.

Marvel at the shepherds there, May the promise of Christmas

And the angels all around. Be fulfilled in your life

Rest in the simple, lowly stable And may peace and joy

Where peace and love abound. Be yours in the year ahead

.

(L. Thomson) (L. Thomson)

12.

OUT AND ABOUT with URCHIN

Cold winter arrives with the winter solstice which this year is at 10.43 in the morning of 21st

December and we will have reached the shortest day. The end of the year is nigh but first we

celebrate the birth of Christ at Christmas.

Nazareth, Nasrat in the local tongue, was somewhat of a backwater in lower Galilee, situated in a

high valley. It was the home of Joseph, the village carpenter. There is an apocryphal tale that Joseph

was employed by the father of Mary to extend his house and a refreshing drink of water was brought

to Joseph by Mary and so the courtship began. He is believed to have been older than Mary but there

is no way of confirming that or even by how much. The old English song “The Cherry Tree Carol”

begins ‘Joseph was an old man and an old man was he when he wedded Mary in the land of Galilee’.

Old can mean anything, but we can believe that he was older than Mary. But Mary became pregnant;

she was well aware of the reason for this but Joseph was not.

The Christmas story as told by Luke does not mention Joseph’s reaction to the pregnancy but

Matthew does; From verse 18 to 24 in chapter 1, it is clear that he is not best pleased which is hardly

surprising, so he decided to break off the engagement. But then matters took a divine course. The

devout Joseph had a dream; a dream in which an angel addressed him; he was not to be afraid to

marry Mary for the Holy Spirit had brought about the baby in her womb, the baby was to be called

Jesus. This acceptance would formally acknowledge that the baby was his son in the eyes of the

world and the baby would be legitimised as coming from the direct ancestry of David. Meanwhile

the pregnant Mary had been living with her relation Elizabeth and for Joseph to marry her in a strict

provincial community could be difficult. Tongues would wag, mischief would be made, but this is

what Joseph does; the very next day.

Any local consequences are deflected by a decree from Emperor Augustus, through Governor

Quirinius, that a census be made and everyone should be registered in his home town and, for Joseph

that meant the town of Bethlehem. He decides to take Mary with him on the 90 mile journey along

the valley of the Jordan, past Jerusalem to Bethlehem, a journey that was to end in a stable. We all

know about that stable; it is where Jesus was born and that is why we celebrate at Christmas. So, at

this darkest time of the year, when we all need light and warmth and fellowship, we Christians

celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Happy Christmas to you all!

13.

A Mysterious Gift ... A Man’s Reflection

By Mike Woodard. An extract follows:

I looked at the gift. It looked SO different than

the others under the tree. It was so carefully

wrapped and even had a ribbon tied in a bow. In

rich red paper it was beautiful! THIS gift was

larger than the others too. Something was

missing…. It didn’t have a name on it. I

couldn’t ask whose it was; it seemed too special.

I just looked in wonder. Just having it under the

tree added something special to Christmas.

That Christmas, along with other holidays, was not special. Holidays, in my home, were filled with

lots of drinking. Drinking always led to yelling … Yelling led to fights … Fights sometimes went

beyond words … In our home the “special” had been lost in holiday events. This Christmas in

particular was framed in angry discussions of job loss and financial stress. I overheard a lot.

The GIFT was so mysterious; it was a blaze of red colour in my black and white world. It captured

my mind. I could hardly contain myself as the time came to open presents! I am the youngest of

four. Presents were handed out in order, oldest to youngest. Each time another gift was handed out

the anticipation built. It did not go to my sister … My oldest brother did not get it … My middle

brother was given the box next to it … Next, my mom’s hand reached for THE gift … my world

went into slow motion when she handed THE mysterious, beautifully wrapped gift to me! For just a

moment I didn’t move. Maybe it was a mistake … then I saw the hidden tag, it said, “To Mike from

Santa”. It was real. It was for me. My fingers began to unwrap the box; I was still in disbelief.

As the paper fell away, I could hardly believe my eyes; a brand new pair of black ice skates. New

for ME! Being the youngest boy with two older brothers almost nothing was new coming to me.

Now right in front of me were brand new shiny ice skates. I remember nothing else of that day

beyond skating up and down the ice covered country roads. I was the only one thankful for the

recent ice storm! In the next few days, I’m sure I must have broken some world record for the

distance skated by a 9 year old boy.

That gift lifted me out of a fog. I’m not sure what I would label the fog. Maybe it was the

expectation that somehow Christmas should be special. Maybe it was TV or maybe comments I

heard at school but somehow I thought Christmas should be a special time. The mysterious gift

made that Christmas the most memorable of my childhood. I never found out who “Santa” was. I

wish I could say, “Thank you” and let them know how much that gift meant. Someone’s kindness

made a significant impact and a memorable Christmas.

I now know there is another mysterious gift that

makes Christmas special. Often it is missed in the

busyness, emotion or misplaced focus of the

season. This gift has removed the fog of despair

that had a grip on my life. This mysterious gift

came in the form of a baby born in a stable.

When I consider that Jesus left the perfection of

heaven, it is almost incomprehensible. He came

to walk on the planet He created. Each day, His

heart was broken by the people he came to serve.

He did this for nine year old boys. All this is

wonderful, mysterious and beautiful. What a gift.

Since I do know THIS gift, giver, I can say

“Thank you” for a life changing gift.

14.

15.

16.

HOGMANAY …

It is believed this custom may date back to Norse celebrations of the winter solstice and incorporates

some of the Gaelic celebration of Samhain (a festival marking the end of the harvest season and the

beginning of winter or the darker half of the year). The unpopular Vikings (who were wont to

invade) celebrated Yule which contributed to the Twelve Days of Christmas or the “Daft Days” as

they were known in Scotland. Hogmanay was the more traditional celebration in Scotland and

Christmas was not celebrated as a festival, perhaps as a result of the Protestant Reformation after

which Christmas was seen as “too Papist”.

The most widespread national custom is the practice of first-footing which starts immediately after

midnight with the first person to enter the house bringing a piece of coal, or shortbread, or whisky in

order to bring luck to the household. Tall, dark men are preferred as the first-foot, being the opposite

of the old blond Viking invaders! In Glasgow and the central areas of Scotland, the tradition is to

hold Hogmanay parties that involve singing, dancing, eating of steak pie or stew, storytelling and

drink. These usually extend into the daylight hours of 1st January. Institutions also had their own

traditions. For example, amongst the Scottish regiments, officers waited on the men at special dinners

while at the bells, the Old Year is piped out of barrack gates. The sentry then challenges the new

escort outside the gates: "Who goes there?" The answer is "The New Year, all's well.”

"Auld Lang Syne"

(Left) John Masey Wright and John Rogers' c. 1841

illustration of Auld Lang Syne.

The Hogmanay custom of singing "Auld Lang Syne"

has become common in many countries. "Auld Lang

Syne" is a Scots poem by Robert Burns, based on

traditional and other earlier sources. It is now

common to sing this in a circle of linked arms that

are crossed over one another as the clock strikes

midnight for New Year's Day, though it is only

intended that participants link arms at the beginning

of the final verse, co-ordinating with the lines of the

song that contain the lyrics to do so. Typically, it is

often only in Scotland this practice is carried out

correctly. Auld Lang Syne is now sung regularly at

"The Last Night of the Proms" in London by the full

audience with their arms crossed over one another.

Between 1957 and 1968, a New Year's Eve

television programme, The White Heather Club, was

presented to herald in the Hogmanay celebrations.

The show was presented by Andy Stewart who

always began by singing "Come in, come in, it's nice

to see you...." The show always ended with Andy

Stewart and the cast singing, "Haste ye Back":

“Haste ye back, we loue you dearly, Call again you're welcome here.

May your days be free from sorrow, And your friends be ever near.

May the paths o'er which you wander, Be to you a joy each day.

Haste ye back we loue you dearly, Haste ye back on friendship's way.”

17.

The performers were Jimmy Shand and band, Ian Powrie and

his band, Scottish country dancers: Dixie Ingram and the Dixie

Ingram Dancers, Joe Gordon Folk Four, James Urquhart, Ann

and Laura Brand, Moira Anderson and Kenneth McKellar. All

the male dancers and Andy Stewart (right) wore kilts, and the

female dancers wore long white dresses with tartan sashes.

Following the demise of the White Heather Club, Andy Stewart

continued to feature regularly in TV Hogmanay shows until his

retirement. His last appearance was in 1992.

The 1693 Scotch Presbyterian Eloquence contained one of the first mentions of the holiday in official

church records. Hogmanay was treated with general disapproval. Still, in Scotland Hogmanay and

New Year's Day are as important as Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Although Christmas Day

held its normal religious nature in Scotland amongst its Catholic and Episcopalian communities, the

Presbyterian national church, the Church of Scotland, discouraged the celebration of Christmas for

nearly 400 years; it only became a public holiday in Scotland in 1958. Conversely, 1st and 2nd

January are public holidays and Hogmanay still is associated with as much celebration as Christmas

in Scotland. Most Scots still celebrate New Year's Day with a special dinner, usually steak pie.

(Left) A Viking longship is burnt during Edinburgh's

annual Hogmanay celebrations (though Edinburgh

has no historical connection with those Norse who

invaded Scotland).

As in much of the world, the largest Scottish cities –

Glasgow, Edinburgh and Aberdeen – hold all-night

celebrations, as do Stirling and Inverness. The

Edinburgh Hogmanay celebrations are among the

largest in the world. Celebrations in Edinburgh in

1996–97 were recognised by the Guinness Book of

Records as the world's largest New Year party, with

approximately 400,000 people in attendance. Numbers have since been restricted due to safety

concerns.

(Above left) (Catalonian Sun Goddess (Above right) Spectacular fireworks to celebrate

From Edinburgh’s Hogmanay Hogmanay in Edinburgh.

Street Party 2005)

[Information from Wikipedia]

18.

ROTAS - SUNDAYS - PREACHERS - DECEMBER 2016 and JANUARY 2017

December

2016

4th Revd Rae

Anglesea

11th

Revd Ruth

Crofton

Communion

18th Carol

Service –

Elders

24th Christmas Eve

Elders

25th Revd John

Durell

January

2017

1st Revd Ruth

Crofton

8th Mr. Bill

Offler

15th Revd Tony

Haws

22nd Revd John

Durell

29th Mrs. Maranny

Jones

ELDERS AND DOOR DUTIES - DECEMBER 2016 AND JANUARY 2017

ELDERS DOOR DUTIES

December 4th Mr. R. Todd Mrs. H. Todd

11th Mr. D. Shirer Mrs. H. Cockburn

18th Mrs. K. Ogilvie Mr. A. Ogilvie

25th Mrs. Y. Melville Mr. M. Reay

January 1st Mrs. J. Thornborrow Mrs. K. Clasper

8th Mrs. K. Clasper Mrs. W. Surtees

15th Mrs. H. Cockburn Mrs. M. Eve

22nd Mrs. D. Jackson Mrs. J. Goodall

29th Mrs. J. Sarsfield Dr. M. Munro

If in doubt about your duties any Sunday, please check the list on the Vestibule notice board.

Please remember – You are responsible for arranging your own replacement.

_________________________________________________________________________________

ELDERS’ MEETINGS (1st Wednesday of month) at 7 p.m.

MEET ON WEDNESDAY 7th DECEMBER 2016 and 4th JANUARY 2017

PROPERTY COMMITTEE (usually 3rd MONDAY of month) at 2 p.m.

but by arrangement with the members.

I am the light of the world:

he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness,

but shall have the light of life. (John 8:12)

19.

FLOWER ROTA –

DECEMBER 2016

AND

JANUARY 2017

DECEMBER – Supervisor – Mrs. J. Graham JANUARY – Supervisor –Mrs. M. Munro

4th Advent 1st Mrs. Y. Melville

11th Advent 8th VACANCY

18th Christmas Flowers 15th Mrs. Janet Sarsfield

25th Christmas Flowers 22nd Mrs. Janet Sarsfield

29th Mrs. J. Goodall

To provide flowers where there is a Vacancy or join the Flower Rota or donate to the Flower Fund:

Please contact Mrs. Jean Graham or Dr. Margaret Munro.

_________________________________________________________________________________

COFFEE ROTA – DECEMBER 2016 and JANUARY 2017

DECEMBER JANUARY

4th Sue/Fred Robinson, Helen Cooper 1st Heather Todd, Christiane Mitchell

11th Jessie Goodall, Kath Ogilvie 8th Melanie Eve, Margaret Munro

18th Fiona Bowater, Malcolm Reay 15th Yvonne Melville, Jean Graham

25th Janet Thornborrow, Judy Banister 22nd Kathleen Clasper, Barbara Tinsley

29th Win Surtees, Joyce Duthie

Please decide and agree on who is responsible for bringing the milk.

You are responsible for arranging your own replacement.

_________________________________________________________________________________

CHURCH CLEANING ROTA – DECEMBER 2016 and JANUARY 2017

December 3rd Melanie Eve, Fiona Bowater

January 7th Kathleen Clasper, Kath Ogilvie

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR FOR 2017

FOR THE YEAR THAT HAS GONE – WE THANK YOU LORD

IN THE YEAR AHEAD – WE ASK GUIDANCE FROM YOU.

WE PRAY THAT WARRIORS WILL LAY DOWN THE SWORD

AND MEN WILL MAKE EVERY EFFORT, PEACE TO RENEW.

WE SPOIL YOUR BEAUTIFUL CREATION OF THIS EARTH

BY OUR DEEDS OF SELFISHNESS AND OUTRIGHT GREED.

MAY WE APPRECIATE THINGS FOR THEIR TRUE WORTH

AND ALWAYS GIVE A HELPING HAND TO THOSE IN NEED.

LOVING FATHER, MAY WE FOLLOW YOUR EXAMPLE NOW

AND CARE FOR THE EARTH AND ALL WHO ON IT LIVE.

WE WILL SUCCEED IF ONLY YOU WILL SHOW US HOW

AND INSTEAD OF TAKING WE LEARN TO SHARE AND GIVE.

[Photographs and poem by L. Thomson December 2016]