It’s finally here. The day awaited by many. The final countdown for last minute shopping.
The final Advent calendar door has been opened. The stocking has been brought out. Operation Christmas is go, go, go!
It’s starting to get dark. I remind myself that we have passed the winter solstice – there is a fraction more light than there was a few days ago.
Christmas Eve is that in-between space. Hopefully, that one where you can sink into a chair, and know you are pretty much ready.
I hope that you are not wrestling with a turkey that is pretending to be its own deep freeze. For those still working, I hope the finish line is in sight.
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Christmas Past
So many different Christmas Eves – united by one thing: waiting.
Waiting for the clock to go round so you can finally get at that stocking.
(One year, even in my teens, I woke up, convinced it must be morning. The kitchen clock said something past eleven at night. Reluctantly, I went back to bed.)
Waiting to see if what you’ve chosen will go down well with others in your family. Waiting for the big Christmas Day film.
Waiting to leave work, at the end of a waitressing shift – no early finish here. Catching the train home, from what seemed like a deserted station. Moving through the fog, as though entering a dream.
Memorably, having  a certain phone call with Dan. Waiting for the opportune moment to speak to my parents; to ask for an engagement ring I knew was in the family.
Waiting…finally the moment came. Over a plate of beans on toast. To start a sentence that can only feel like it’s in at the deep end: ‘So…we’d like to get married…’
The excitement. The provision of a ring. The hugs, the phonecalls back, the congratulations.
Christmas with Dan and his mum, together with my parents, a year on. The waiting, knowing that the next year would be our year for getting married.
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Later Christmas Eves. Working a half-day on Christmas Eve, looking forward to the office being closed up until January. The farewells, the separations, each to their own home, their own arrangements.
Christmas Eves in London, visiting Dan’s granny. Heading home on the bus, the slow way home, past light displays aplenty, winding our way back to Dan’s mum’s house for Christmas itself.
Waiting for a new year, one in which we would become three. And then, waiting for our first Christmas together.
The first stocking. The first Christmas morning all together.
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Christmas Present
Tonight, we’re waiting for the arrival of the International Space Station overhead, close enough to spot without need for a telescope.
An opportunity to put out some reindeer dust (aka oats and glitter). To try on a new pair of pyjamas. To have a special bath with some of my stock from Lush. (These three items are for Junior Reader, rather than me.)
Waiting to light the candles on our little wooden tree that we have on the table – the decoration we bought for our first married Christmas.
Waiting to put out food for Father Christmas and the reindeer. This year, with lebkuchen not being available, we trust Father Christmas will settle for stollen.
Waiting to see if Junior Reader will put out soft toys to spot for Father Christmas, as happened last year. (There has also been talk of setting up a Santa hide, in a similar way to a bird hide.)
Waiting to read the final stories before bedtime.
The final space, when it’s just the two of you awake. Waiting to see reactions the next day. Excitement.
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So many other waitings that we remember at this time. The waiting of Elizabeth to be a mother, all those years.
The waiting of Mary and Joseph to get safely to Bethlehem, to find somewhere to stay, all before the baby arrived.
The waiting of the wise men for the star – and then the waiting to catch up with it. To see where it stopped.
The waiting for fulfilment of prophecies.
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Whatever you are waiting for…I hope you feel a sense of it approaching.