Twelfth night memories of taking the trimmings down after Christmas.
When I opened the front door to look out at the frosty cars, pavements and hills and saw glass bottles of milk on the doorstep, I knew it was time to take the Christmas decorations down.
For two weeks, our milk had arrived in plastic bottles in multiple amounts on days we weren’t expecting it! I worried that the glass bottle delivery had stopped, but I guess the workers who process the bottles were having a holiday. I hope that’s what it was.
For everyone who’s provided us with milk over Christmas and New Year, thank you!
Then, on Tuesday January 6th, there they were, two glass bottles of milk on the usual delivery day and the empties had vanished. Now can we go back to normal?
January 6th is the day we remember wise men visiting the toddler Jesus. It’s the day after twelfth night which is traditionally the time for the last Christmas parties when if you’re lucky you might be crowned lady or lord of misrule!
Apparently, January 6th is the day when Christmas decorations should be taken down and the day that life settles back into its normal patterns.
How do you feel about life getting back to normal? Maybe nothing changed for you, and you worked through the festivities. Maybe you choose to not get involved with Christmas. Maybe you took your trimmings down long ago. Maybe this week comes as a relief with normal telly, school and bus timetables.
In my childhood home, the end of Christmas was strictly observed. We were taught that if any trace of garland, tinsel or bauble was discovered in the house after January 6th, it would bring us bad luck for the whole year!
I think the bad luck story was a good incentive to crack on and clear everything. I’m sure mam and dad were fed up with the paper chains we’d created dangling from the ceiling and pine needles littering the floor.
Anyway, we carefully removed from the tree every shiny bauble, trumpet and star, dusted and wrapped each one, then packed them away in a batted, musty smelling cardboard box which once contained tins of Princes Fruit. We carefully put away our homemade gold cardboard snowmen and paper doily angels so they could adorn another year.
There were advantages to clearing and packing away Christmas cheer. We always found chocolate bells or coins hanging on the tree and they had to be eaten straight away! I remember dad taking the cards from their strings and sitting on the settee to read each one carefully. You don’t get chance to look at them when they arrive, he said.
I also remember the cleaned, tidied house feeling cold and empty and wished the decorations could stay for my birthday.
If my parents couldn’t wait for the house to be untrimmed, I’m the opposite to them now. I don’t want to put away the lights, baubles, angels and robins or consign the tree in its pot to the garden. I want to keep the light going this year!
Some years, I have kept everything out until my birthday, and I didn’t notice any particularly bad luck following!
I will keep up a star for Epiphany and the nativity figures until February. I’ll tell you why then!
What memories do you have about taking down the Christmas decorations? How do you feel about that?
Here’s a fun question:
In which play does a man disguised as a woman fall in love with a woman disguised as a man at Christmas?
Ooh, it’s dark while I’m writing this and I don’t think it’ll get very light today. This shortest day of the year is special and I’m full of anticipation of longer days! It’s the sort of dark which can give birth to new things!
Thank you everyone who’s read these posts. You’ve really helped me Wander through the Land of Nod.
This week I’ll be cleaning, making beds, baking (those contenders for the best mince pies in the world won’t make themselves!), eating, drinking, seeing my family and going to church, singing carols and celebrating the best story ever told.
My next post will be on Saturday 27th December, when you can read a cautionary Christmas tale, so I’ll see you then!
Have a very Happy, Joyful and Blessed Christmas.
Photo by Su00f3c Nu0103ng u0110u1ed9ng on Pexels.com
Let me know how it goes!
Just before I go, here are my serious thoughts! Pardon me for getting preachy, but some things I feel very strongly about.
If you, or anyone you know, is anxious about “putting Christ back into Christmas”, take heart!
Christ isn’t an object that you can put here or there. Jesus is a person and was born so that we can have a good, living relationship with God. When we say Jesus Christ, we mean that Jesus is the one we have faith in, so be careful how you say it!
Here are some things you can do to line your life up more alongside Jesus Christ’s:
Resist the voices calling us to hate others and get rid of people we don’t like. Jesus taught us to love our neighbours as ourselves and treat others the way we want to be treated.
Give some money to a charity which supports refugees, fights homelessness, hunger and disease, supports prisoners or combats loneliness. Jesus taught us to heal the sick, feed the hungry, welcome strangers, care for those in prison and he was always including those on the edge and beyond of society.
Stop and say hello when you see someone sat on a cold pavement or is next to you in the supermarket queue. Jesus let himself be distracted and delayed by strangers.
Go along to your local church. This week you’ll definitely get to sing carols! Jesus always met with others to praise God, read scripture and pray.
Putting Christ back into Christmas? He’s already there, we should try joining him!
Brrr, I shivered as the last rays of sun faintly lit up the hills surrounding our field. It was that cold, dark time between sun and moonlight, before the sky was lit up with stars and I could fall asleep counting them. I snuggled up to my little lamb. Her mother had died when she was born and none of the other sheep would adopt her, so she was given to me to look after. How happy am I about that? Little lambs need a lot more than milk to keep them alive and well. Without a mother to keep them close, warm and safe, they need a lot of cuddles and that’s the job I love best.
At night, when my abba and uncles take their turns guarding the sheep, I lay down in the tent between my amma and lamb and dream the night away. However, that night, it was just me and lamb. Things were so busy in the town that amma and my aunts took their own turns watching the field, cooking food and keeping the men company. There was no sleep for adults that night.
I said the town was busy, it was more like chaotic. The Romans, who I’ve been taught to hate from birth had demanded that everyone travel to their hometown to be counted. Talk about harassment and control! Of course, our town’s not big enough to take everybody in. There aren’t enough places to stay or food to eat, so of course our fields and our sheep are tempting and not too far away. We didn’t want anybody camping out with us and we definitely didn’t want hungry strangers stealing our sheep, so the adults stayed awake and lamb and I tried to sleep.
My brother Jake is older than me, but he’s not a man yet, though he was determined to stay up that night. Soon, I heard the sound of the pipe he was playing. It soothed the sheep who were as anxious as the rest of us.
There it was, the evening star, the brightest of them all. Soon, it was joined by thousands of others and I lay, looking out of the tent, watching the stars appear and listening to Jake’s music. I hoped for happy dreams and felt Lamb’s tiny heart beating rapidly while she slept.
I must have dropped asleep quickly, because soon I was dreaming of a loud voice saying Do not be afraid. I’m bringing you good news, joyful news. A saviour has been born. You’ll find him in town, asleep in a manger.
Strange words indeed, what an odd dream, but unlike a dream, it didn’t fly away. I heard other voices, men’s voices sounding shocked, confused. I woke up properly then and looked outside. Everything was bright so I could see the men lying flat on their faces and the women huddled near the tents. Jake was standing close by. He’d dropped his pipes and was looking up, so I followed his gaze.
The stars were three times as bright as usual and as I looked at them, they started to move. I wondered if I was still asleep and dreaming, but my eyes were wide awake and I saw the stars begin to dance, up and down and round and round, waving their arms. Arms? Yes, they had arms and feet and faces and wings and were so bright. Then, I heard the most beautiful sound. The sky was full of singing! Glory to God on high and on earth, peace to men!
Almost as soon as they began, they fell silent, the sky dimmed and we were left with familiar stars. A hush had fallen over our field, even the sheep stopped bleating and everything was still for a few moments.
Eventually, figures began to move in the dark. Lamb was trembling and I pulled her closer to me while I watched my abba get to his feet and gather in a group with my uncles. Jack picked up his fallen pipes, wiped the dirt from them and came to stand near me. Amma and my aunts held hands, whispered and waited.
Finally, the men and women came together. We’ve got to go! I heard the words, but who was going where at that time of night?
Suddenly, all was movement. Amma came over to our tent and grabbed Jake and me. Come on, quickly, we’ve got to go into town.
Into town? What about the sheep, what about the tents? We can’t leave everything with a town full of strangers.
Yes, we can, screeched amma, town is where we’re going. That’s where the baby is, amongst strangers and we’ve got to find him.
Well, I wasn’t going to leave lamb behind, so I picked her up and ran, holding amma’s hand, with Jake running ahead.
This was the strangest night. Abba hated going into town. His rough and ready ways were better suited to fields and townsfolk didn’t like or trust him. They needed him to provide sheep and lambs but looked down at him because he couldn’t keep himself clean and didn’t turn up to synagogue. And yet, there he was, abandoning his sheep and leading the way, rushing to find a baby. He’d seen plenty of babies!
The streets were busy, the marketplace was full and some people were settling down there for the night. There were some drunken calls after us What’s the hurry, shepherds? You’ve forgotten the sheep, but you still smell of them!
Round corners we scurried until we found a narrow street. We had a sense for animals and quickly found our way to a stable.
Uncles, aunts, brother, abba and amma all paused to catch their breath. I stroked lamb and wondered what would happen next.
Eventually, the adults nodded to each other and abba pushed open the stable door.
I had no idea what to expect, but I walked into the lamp lit shack, smelling the straw and the animals before I saw them. In a corner, sat a young woman who wasn’t much older than me. she looked tired, but she smiled at us. An older man stood by her and he nodded in welcome.
We crept closer until we saw what the angel had told us. There was a manger, a feeding trough, and inside was a baby. The baby was swaddled tightly, just like me and Jake had been when we were born.
Photo by Jessica Lewis ud83eudd8b thepaintedsquare on Pexels.com
What happened next was the most surprising of all. My big, strong, abba who was used to seeing off wild animals and the odd Roman soldier, my abba, who would sooner curse or hit a man rather than kneel before him, fell to his knees in the filthy straw and bowed his head before this baby.
The baby opened his eyes then. He couldn’t wave his arms and legs because of the swaddling clothes, but he turned his head. His mother reached down and picked him up and my abba never took his eyes away while she rocked her baby in her arms.
Lamb started to bleat and the young mother smiled. Then, would you believe it, she looked at me and said shall we swap? I’ll hold your little lamb, and you can hold mine.
I kissed lamb and then passed her over. I took the tiny baby in my arms and I kissed him too. A lullaby wafted around the room. Jake was playing his pipes and I rocked the baby. His mother said His name is Jesus.
I kissed Jesus again and we exchanged lamb for baby. I looked around and saw tears falling down amma’s face. I hugged lamb and stroked her while a hush fell over us all. Then my adults looked at each other and nodded again. It was time to go.
Look after your little lamb and I’ll look after mine for you and for all of us said the mother.
A small interlude between Christmas Story Characters, in which I share some of my thoughts and feelings about Christmas.
So how is it going? Christmas? I’d like to hear about how you feel about it all.
Me, I have mixed feelings. I love Christmas. I love to celebrate the birth of Jesus. That for me is full atonement, nothing separating us from God now. Jesus shows us who God is, but he also shows us what humanity really is, so his birth is well worth celebrating.
Photo by Jessica Lewis ud83eudd8b thepaintedsquare on Pexels.com
I also like all the midwinter festivity. December would be pretty grim without Christmas lights, and I like the midwinter urge to brighten our houses against the long nights, huddle together, eating and drinking and telling stories.
At our university of the third age song and story group, we learnt a song. The lyrics are by Bill Meek. It’s called I Am Christmas:
The first line is “I will sew a braid of gold on grey December’s ragged sleeve.”
I love those words. December would indeed feel ragged without a fancy hem to neaten off the year.
However, alongside all the enjoyable things, I often feel like my heart is going to break and my head is going to burst. The cruel jagged, ragged edges of life seem much worse against all the Christmas expectations. Personal tragedy and international violence cry out against celebrating the birth of the Prince of peace. Homelessness, disease and poverty jars against the sugar-coated Christmas adverts.
And yes, all those adverts! And it all starts so soon! I feel compelled to do more, buy more and be more to make the perfect Christmas happen and I fail badly against my impossible expectations!
What’s more, the ghosts of Christmas past crowd in on me. I remember the way it used to be, I remember old friends who I don’t know any more (I know we can’t keep up with everyone) and yes, those who’ve died seem close, but they are untouchable. Add to all that the sense of passing time and it makes for a very intense and sometimes heavy season for me.
Still, I wouldn’t change it. Life isn’t just a bundle of laughs and Jesus wasn’t born so that we could have a great party, even though he was a fan of parties. He was born so we can know life in all its fulness and that includes living with unease.
This December, I read these words by the poet Wendell Berry:
“The empire of money, war and fire
Cuts across the land.
There are in the same country
Shepherds watching their flocks.”
Wendell Berry, published in Plough Quarterly magazine, December 2025.
It reminds me that everyday goodness carries on and that reminder is a blessing.
It also links nicely to my next post! Can you guess what Christmas story characters that will feature?
Now we’re in the last full week of Advent and we’re approaching the winter solstice, I’m posting a few imaginative thoughts based on the story of Jesus’ birth. This week in 2025 holds dreadful news. New sadness and fear has entered the world. It’s into just such a world that some messengers speak.
This is astory of a man with the job of preparing the way for someone else. It’s hard work and he compares it to building a a road.
Building roads is hard work, back breaking, palm blistering, limb tiring, and head crushing work. Before you get to the hard physical work, there’s a lot of thinking to be done, then talking, consulting, objections and persuasions, plans and notices, permissions and start dates.
Once the consultations are over, the permissions are granted and the start date’s decided, you’d think it would be straightforward, but no. Everyone complains about potholes, mud and gravel. They complain about sharp bends, blind corners and traffic hold ups, so you’d think everyone would be delighted about a new road, wide enough for two-way traffic and straightened out with a clean smooth surface, but when it comes to being built, then a new load of complaints pile in.
Temporary traffic lights hold up traffic more than potholes, and diversions add more to journey times than wide bends. While the road workers toil, drivers get nostalgic for the bad old road.
My name’s John, son of Elizabeth and Zechariah. I’m the one Angel Gabriel was talking about when they interrupted my father at his most important work! My birth and name caused some trouble I can tell you. Blessing and trouble could be my middle names!
The road planned out for me was probably to become a priest like my Father, but God has sent me on a detour via the desert. God wants me to be a sort of road builder, preparing the way for the Messiah, filling in the holes and smoothing out the bumps in our nation’s life, clearing away the rubble that gets in between us and what God is doing.
I don’t expect it to be popular – I’ve never been a popular sort of man and I know people can get attached to the holes and bumps that trip them up, but I’ve got strong arms and legs and a good head on my shoulders and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to get us on the road to God.
Wandering Through The Land Of Nod. 