Saturday 16 April 2016

A-Z Challenge Day 14 - Nativity


Nativity, St Beunos, January 2015
I've mentioned our weird and wonderful  Creche figures many times on the blog. So for a change, here's a glimpse of a more classical Nativity scene. This was an unexpected surprise and joy for me, for all kinds of reasons; not least because that somehow, I'd completely lost track of time and hadn't fully realised that we were in Epiphany. Sadly, Mr GP's mother had died the previous autumn. I'd been due to go away , but of course, cancelled. To my joy, there was a place left in a retreat in the New Year, so off I went.

Somehow, maybe partly due to the place where I was spiritually and emotionally , maybe because of  the different season; that time apart took on a special, never -to- be forgotten quality. On autumn retreats, I'm accustomed to spend time peering anxiously into the empty tomb. (the '30 Dayers' are often into the Third Week of the Spiritual Exercises about then). For me,  the familiar Nativity figures took on a new significance, speaking into my struggles and longings in a new way. The year just finished hadn't been easy and, however hard I tried to leave my 'baggage' behind at home, some of it was bound to come into the retreat time. During that eight days away, I  learned  a lot about waiting, and self-acceptance. In many ways I identified with the woman lurking about on the outskirts of the scene;  like me, looking and longing  ...for what? Who was she? I never worked that one out. Yet there was something that impelled me to be with her, to be her and to travel alongside her as she made her journey to the centre of the scene. (in reality, she didn't, but in my prayer and imagination,  she - and I - were drawn further and further towards the Christ child). 

I can still remember panicking one day when I thought that the latter had vanished, only to realise that he was there, on the ground hidden under the straw. I still, too, remember the sense of joy when I later discovered him in Mary's arms. A miracle? It seemed that way to me at first, although to find out that in fact my retreat guide had been responsible didn't diminish the sense of wonder and awe. Well, God does need a helping hand sometimes!



4 comments:

  1. I'm glad you're back blogging, with your usual thoughtful musings and ponderings.You often light a spark in my thoughts - thank you.

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    1. Thanks, Dormouse, for the encouragement. It's good to know my witterings have been an inspiration to somebody, especially as I'm finding it a bit of a struggle this time round. Your kind words will help me keep scribbling.

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  2. One of my most endearing memories is when I played Mary in the Christmas Story. I was so proud, but the one thing that's never left me is the embarrassment I felt that night over having a hole in my white sock that someone else pointed out. :) Still, at 10, the honor of playing her will never be forgotten. Silent Night will forever be my favorite song!
    Lovely nativity scene!

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    1. So embarrassing! I can just picture it. I never got to play Mary myself; I usually played a shepherd, clad in stripy dressing gown, tea towl headress, and, at least once, as I had a squint for a while, a patch over one side of my oh so flattering, National Health glasses!

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