Sunday 30th November - circle

 I saved this scavenger hunt word until last on purpose. The church year has come full circle; it begins in the first day of Advent which is today, unlike a calendar year which runs January to December.

This is my end-of-November tree picture. One more to go.

Back to Advent; each Sunday has its own theme. Our church is following the themes of Hope, Peace, Joy and Love... I'm not sure if I've got Peace and Love the right way round; all will become clear next Sunday. But Hope is definitely the one for today. The reading in church was that bit from the book of Isaiah, chapter 2;

Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,

    to the temple of the God of Jacob.

He will teach us his ways,

    so that we may walk in his paths.”

The law will go out from Zion,

    the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.

4 He will judge between the nations

    and will settle disputes for many peoples.

They will beat their swords into plowshares

    and their spears into pruning hooks.

Nation will not take up sword against nation,

    nor will they train for war anymore.

5 Come, descendants of Jacob,

    let us walk in the light of the Lord.

That's certainly something to hope for...

If you are Church of England (as I am) and your church follows the pattern in the service book (as my zoom church mostly does) you will have heard the collect - a type of prayer - for the first Sunday in Advent. The originals came from 'The Book Of Common Prayer', written hundreds of years ago, worth considering as much for the beautiful language as for the content. 

(I'm putting the reading and collect here as much for my benefit as anyone else's; if it's not relevant to your spiritual beliefs please just skip over it.)

We hold on to the tradition of marking the days until Christmas; the wreath, put together just in time this afternoon, and the first candle switched on (I always had real candles but...)

And our chocolate Advent calendars ready and waiting;

I haven't lost sight of my circle...

I've been reading a few paragraphs at a time from Ronald Blythe's book 'In the Artist's Garden'. His mind flits from topic to topic like a butterfly. Here is part of the last page for the chaper on November 

He was a lay reader, I believe,  and led services in the scattered village churches near his home to help the hard-pressed Vicar. Hence the comment about remembering to read the collect.

It was the last couple of sentences that really caught my eye, about scything the withered grass, and at the same time sowing next year's seeds. 'Next summer's flowers are counting the days until it's time to grow', just I am counting the days until Christmas. 

Sorry,  I've blethered on a bit... time for a lie down in a darkened room!