The church looks gorgeous at this time of year. And nothing makes it look prettier, than a candlelit service. And nothing says (or perhaps, sings is more apt) Christmas like a good old-fashioned carol service.
And on Sunday, after a frantic day of organising, running and speaking at a youth service, having a Christmas lunch with our village friends and having my family over for cheese and biscuits, I got five minutes to catch my breath. I haven’t stopped this weekend. It’s just been one thing after the next. And they’ve been lovely things, don’t get me wrong but they’ve been non stop. And I’m tired.
So actually getting to sit down in the church that I’m normally running around in, was a bit of novelty. Sitting there with my family and Oli and letting the true meaning of Christmas wash over me, was pretty special.
Even if Sophie (my four-year old niece) did keep pulling my hair and laughing, as well as whispering, ‘This is very boring!’ in one of those whispers that is actually very loud and therefore not at all whispery.
And as the Vicar reflected on all the major events and ups and downs that this year has held, I suddenly felt a wave of excitement. Because yes, 2016 is the year of Brexit and Trump but it is also the year that Oli asked me to marry him. When the church looked exactly as it did right then, covered in candlelight. Beautiful and special and warm.
And as we say goodbye to another year, we welcome in a new one. A bright, shiney, brand spanking new one. And this new year is the year that Oli and I are going to say I do. In this very church, most probably packed out like it is at the carol service. The pews rammed and full and expectant.
And at this service, this time next year, we’ll be man and wife. Mr and Mrs, at Chirstmas time. Finally.