The last thing she wanted to be doing was lying on the sofa, foot elevated, watching back to back films.

There are times when rest is chosen and times where it is forced upon you.

Truth is she’s in a bad mood. In pain, doing a mindless task that appears to be never ending.

The house is a mess, my body is in pain; my eyes keep leaking, nothing is happening how it ought.

Hardly Christmas spirit.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

Christmas was all about mess. A virgin betrothed, a census demanded, a journey travelled, a town with no room, an animals resting place, an angry King, a group of Shepherds…

Into our mess, our pain, our monotony and sorrow, a Saviour was born.

In weariness hope appears and hope gives reason to rejoice!


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