A flame in the dark

It's not quite the middle of Advent. This is the small light of the season - not the fairy lights of Christmas, but a lone candle on a dark night. If we do not observe the season of Advent, of waiting, of reflection, we do not appreciate Christmas when it comes.

I never understand people who announce proudly that they've thrown out their Christmas tree by the end of Boxing Day. Not, that is, until I remember they've had it up since the beginning of December and it's merely a pile of needles on the floor that they're tired of sweeping up.

Wouldn't it be odd if we celebrated the birth of our own children in this fashion?