Oh for a Silent Night…

A quirky little reflection on Christmas and its meaning…

CHRISTMAS GHOST

It was the night of the party, the Big Band’s Christmas bash, and my wife was a principal player: we were going. She went upstairs to put on her glad rags.

I was as ready as I would ever be, so I sat and waited, feeling the haunt of reluctance, like the apparition that anguished Ebenezer Scrooge, the Dickens character, who would have scowled and muttered: “Christmas – Bah! Humbug!” in response to this unwanted disruption.

I knew already what it would be like, those bandsfolk sure could party; it would be a riotous assembly, full of ordinary people being party people.

And I have tried. I have tried wrapping my retiring soul in tinsel, but it works neither for me nor anyone else. I don’t know about Scrooge, but at least I have an excuse; but I will keep that gene to myself, thank you.

Sure enough, soon after arriving at the party of special things to do, I found myself in the kitchen, staring out at the empty garden. I went out into the empty garden. It was a clear and starry night. The beautiful opening words of the carol Silent Night came to mind, and there it was, the spirit of Christmas. Perhaps the archaic Christian term Holy Ghost applied to this sublime emptiness.

Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol in an uncalculated act of charity – true, gratuitous charity, using his unaffected gifts.

Perhaps there could be more meditation and less ostentation at Christmas?

I’d still want mince pies, though!

Alan Martin is a Pembrokeshire native who has worked in several UK locations as an engineering inspector. He now lives on a smallholding in mid-county with his wife and son.