My Very Tiny Christmas Tree

Last year I bought a teeny tiny Christmas tree in a pot, and it has just been brought into the house for its second season as festive symbol.  Around March I optimistically re-potted it into a roomy new home, hoping to spur on its growth by giving it room to breath.  It has done me proud by not dying, but its size is still faintly ridiculous.

So what’s your opinion about this whole Christmas thing? I was realising this morning that several details are getting me stressed, and I seem to be thinking more about them than the exciting, magical, lovely bits.  I must finally be becoming an adult.  I have bought cards and made a list of who to send them to, but when will I actually complete the job? I have done a bit of Christmas shopping, but have lots more to do.  We are going to France to join my parents, so I need to pack and find someone to look after Ella the cat while we are away.  Whine, whinge, moan!

Having said all that, hooray for carols, hooray for a turkey feast, hooray for candles and fairy lights and open fires.  More importantly hooray that Jesus was born in Bethlehem all those years ago, in the dirty old stable to a teen-aged mum and a baffled stand-in father, with the unenviable fate of dying torturously to save humanity written into his future: prince of peace, mighty God, holy one- GLORY! HOSANNA IN EXCELSIS DEO!

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