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gb_christmas_wreathWhen I was a child Christmas Eve was special time.

The milk and mince pie were carefully placed by our fireplace, oh and not forgetting for Rudolph; I didn’t want to upset Father Christmas or his reindeer.

 After all he was the one coming with all the gifts and I had been a good for the whole year… well most of the year anyway!

The presents would be wrapped in a multitude of bright colours, the red of Santa’s coat, the green of the Christmas tree, with silver and gold, shinning and glistening…always beckoning me ever closer in those dark, still, early hours of Christmas day.

I had helped my mum put the decorations up. After hours of licking and sticking, the paper chains finally crissed crossed the ceiling.

Then my dad scrambled up into our dark, and I have to say somewhat scary attic. It was mysterious and creepy darkness with cobwebs and spiders.

After fumbling around for some time dad would bring down some large dusty brown boxes with the words ‘xmas stuff’ scrawled on the side. I knew what treasures lay within.

Our Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room – it looked huge. Its tip leaned ever so slightly to the left with the weight of the gold star. Was it real gold I’d wondered?

We hung baubles after bauble, old and new. The chocolates hung temptingly in their shiny foil, but no – I mustn’t, Santa was coming – I wanted my presents and I was good, honestly!

And then we put out our little nativity scene, Mary, Joseph, two sheep, one cow, three wise men, two shepherds and my brothers contribution…a cowboy on a horse!

And of course Jesus in his manger, in the middle, between his mum and dad, it was after all his birthday.

And then it was time for bed, not that I could sleep….

I heard someone complaining the other day that Christmas is for children and they are right. Christmas is for children and we are all children of God. And we await the coming of Jesus with the awe and wonder of that child on Christmas Eve.