I have returned from almost two weeks in Queensland. I spent the day with my Mum and my younger sister and her family and then we had Christmas dinner with my Mum’s extended family, which was very pleasant (I repented of my bad attitude in that last post). I sat down next to a cousin
I came upon this nativity poem by Chesterton that I have not seen before. I like it – it romps along in a fashion reminiscent of The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. But I am not really sure about the final verse and what he is trying to do with it. It needs more pondering. The
I bought this little wooden nativity scene this year. One day I am going to make one, but till then. So, it was my last day of work for 2016 yesterday. I feel quite chuffed with myself that in the last few weeks I gave myself a hasty crash course in Adobe InDesign (there was
I heard recently an interesting advent sermon from Andrew Robinson (who once contributed stimulating things over here), about Mary. I won’t blame Andrew for anything I write here, but as protestants we can be hasty to throw Mary out completely, as smelling of Catholicism with a mere mention, and yet she has things to teach
I did start some advent readings this year, and then bombed, superbly. But I have started to read The Jesus Storybook by Sally Lloyd-Jones again, because I love it, and it is relevant after all. Here is the introduction.