Happy New Year!

Now I just LOVE New Year's Eve, I do. Looking back I have lots of fond memories. Even the bad ones were good, I love it so much. I remember going clubbing in London, standing on Sydney Harbour watching the fireworks, having a party with friends, being at church on the stroke of midnight. Whatever form it took, New Year has always been pretty special for me.

Reason one: I like parties.

Reason two: It's just a chance to start again isn't it? To cast off the stuff of the previous year and (hopefully) leave it behind once and for all. A chance to pray that God would do something new. I love the fact that we keep on getting second chances. What a gift.
My resolutions are always earnest, but in all honestly end up being pretty hit and miss. Besides I pretty much make up a new resolution every month anyhow. But it doesn't make it any less meaningful. Not for me anyway.



This New Year's Eve I am in my PJ's fighting a cold. Chris is in bed having succumbed to tiredness. Tia keeps waking up cos she's not well either. But its New Year's Eve and I feel the same giddy mix excitement and hope that I've felt at church, in Sydney, at a party. The sense of the unexpected about to unfold, a new opportunity to be grasped, a chance for healing and redemption, a time to let go and move on.

2005 has been wonderful, Tia May type wonderful. Nonetheless, 2006 - bring it on.

Merry Christmas!!!!

Hark the herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled"
Joyful, all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With the angelic host proclaim:
"Christ is born in Bethlehem"
Hark! The herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!"

Christ by highest heav'n adored
Christ the everlasting Lord!
Late in time behold Him come
Offspring of a Virgin's womb
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see
Hail the incarnate Deity
Pleased as man with man to dwell
Jesus, our Emmanuel
Hark! The herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!"

Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings
Ris'n with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth
Hark! The herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!"

However....

I'm not that tight! There are some things that I totally love about Christmas too. Lots of things in fact.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire.
Jack Frost nipping at your toes.
(I jest)

Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Got to be the best carol ever. Wesley and Mendelssohn, what a combination.
O Come All Ye Faithful - a VERY close runner up.

Carol Services. They are great and you only get to sing the above carols a few times a year. I really like those late night ones on Christmas eve.

For Sheffielders - that house in Upperthorpe. What a pioneer.

In England, the cold weather and winter evenings that reminds you that the year is coming to an end. In Phoenix, the fresh mornings and sunny days (26 degrees celcius yesterday my frost bitten friends) that make you think, This is my December! This is what Christmas is like now!

I used to love watching EastEnders. Depressing, I know but when you are already pretty negative about the whole thing it can be strangely uplifting.

Being married to someone who is about as Christmassy as I am.

Christmas Food. Like nice stuffing, mince pies and brandy butter. Mulled wine. Parsnips.
The year when me and Godfrey made rum n raisin ice cream. Or 2001, the year we all descended upon Banji's house.

The fact that my siblings and I have stopped buying Christmas presents for each other. No its not sad, its great. When you have 1 brother, 3 nephews, your husband, your mother in law and your friends with birthdays in January, its cool to to cut costs where you can!

Or the Christmas dinner we had on 30th November this year (in England). The fact that Tia was far more into the wrapping paper than the gifts. If only that would last!

I love the gritty reality of Christmas, the lack of pomp and ceremony that introduced this baby who, like him or not, would shape world history. I love the fact that someone that appeared so unassuming was so incredibly significant. What a way to start a revolution.
I love the gritty reality of Jesus now, beyond the pomp and ceremony, who like it or not, continues to shape my story. I love the fact that walking into some random Methodist church 22 years ago proved so significant. May the revolution continue.

And finally once of the descriptions about Jesus that you hear a lot at Christmas.
Immanuel -meaning God with us. I'll never, never get over that.

Humbug?

My aversion to Christmas has been well documented in years gone by, earning me titles such as "The Least Christmassy Person EVER" and the like. In many respects its totally justified. It takes me forever to get into it, if at all. Often I'm looking forward to the next event - New Year (which I get inordinately overexcited by). Christmas becomes "the bit before" New Year.

There are many reasons why I get blase or plain dour about it. I remember being quite serious about wanting to change Christmas til June with my own "June's for Jesus" campaign. Didn't get anywhere with it, cos JVE laughed at me. A lot.

Its not the whole 'its all become too comercialised' thing , yada yada argument, even though that may be true. I'm not that noble, though I totally dig the whole Oxfam Unwrapped stuff

Its not so much that we've forgotten the reason for the season bit. Though I do think sometimes that I'd be a bit peeved on my birthday if all the presents were for someone else. Its a bit like saying what do I get for the person who has everything? Er nothing, let's just say what I want on a big list and buy stuff for everyone else instead!

And I'm really not interested in whether it was originally a pagan festival that was Christianised and all that jazz cos when you are eating your dinner and getting your pressies, no one really cares do they?

I think that the reason I get dour about it is the sheer hassle. It was always hassle. The presents, the organising, the who to buy for and all that business. The going shopping when everyone is at their most stressed and desparate. Goodwill is out of stock when it comes to Christmas shopping. I worked at Sainsbury's one Christmas Eve in Putney, London and all these posh women got into fights. Someone actually threw a trolley at someone else! M& S in Sheffield was no better either, lots of catfights over salmon and chestnut stuffing. People playing "Baggsie that turkey" cos "I saw it first". I mean, please.

And then there are the decorations. Why people, why? When we were growing up we had this "angel" on the top of the tree that was so ugly she could have been from a horror movie. Yet I am sure I loved the thing, until I made one at school and subjected the family to that for the next few years.
So I move to America where people DO decorations. And on my street there are inflatable snowmen (that's right, inflatable - you gotta make do in the desert) , motorized reindeer that lower their head into a blue stream made of lights (I do like lights, but surely there are limits on these things?).A local shopping mall has snow brought in for children (and their over enthusiastic parents, ahem) to play in. I kid you not.Call it desert fever. And everywhere, every mall, every grocery store, there are enough Santas to make a nationality out of them.

Then people wear Christmas clothes. A friend at church wearing a Christmas sweater turned to someone and said -" I can only wear these clothes when Jo is not here. She doesn't let me." Too right. You don't wear clothes with trees, baubles and bells and lights on. EVER.

I know I sound terrible. And though I don't buy Christmas cards (after reading the above do you need an explanation?), I do buy pressies and we even had lights this year. Obviously I will always eat Christmas Dinner. But spare a thought for the fact that now I have a child - I will never get away with this again. From now on its Santa's grotto, Christmas trees and grotty angels, decorations, cards, big events - for the rest of my life. And with a smile on my face!

But Christmas clothing? There I draw a line. That is taking it all WAY too far.

Ode To My Sistas

(warning - this post will make no sense to most people. Feel free to ignore completely)

Shandikwa (Y) and Sheeks (JVE)

I greet you from the United States of America.

Long may you prosper in the United Kingdom.

Wishing you long life, health, prosperity and grease to your elbow in your studies (Shandikwa)

Amen.

Colour

One of the strangest things about where I live in Phoenix has been that I very rarely meet black people. I think I have met maybe three in the last eighteen months, including a Nigerian which is always fab (I think I've met Nigerians in every country I've visited. Not a big deal in the US. More interesting in a small town in New Zealand). Most of the time I choose not to think about it.

I think about it more now because of Tia and influences we'd like her to have as she grows up. So she listens to Baby Einstein and Anita Baker, classical music and Stevie Wonder, Coldplay and U2 - basically whatever her parents are into.Going back to England made me think about it again.

I still think men and women of colour have a far higher profile in the US than in the UK. It's not extraordinary to see people of colour reading the news, in TV shows or in positions of leadership and influence. And its good to see, you know? There's Oprah - who is just in a league of her own when it comes to TV, magazines and increasingly as a philanthropist.Oprah is not just a talk show anymore - she's a way of life. Then there's Condi, the consumate intellectual and politican. Whatever you think of her politics, you've gotta admire her poise. But there's lots of other high profiled people too and and glad I don't know all their names.It means that for a refreshing change, there are too many too remember.

Professors,policitians, millionaires, nurses, teachers, athletes, dancers, hip hop moguls, businesswomen, mums, dads, one way or another you see it all.

Even so, its still not straightforward. There are lots of inconsistencies in this brave new world. In the shadows of the land of the free and the home of the brave are 'isms' like you wouldn't believe. The aftermath of hurricane Katrina exposed how deeply issues of race and class, rich and poor still shape American life. And for all the diversity - there's still a lot of segregation. Diversity in a city does not automatically mean an integrated diverse community.

And the road twists again, because for all I've said, Phoenix has been good for us as a family. We don't get the stares or the aggression that we experienced in England. We've not had anyone holler racist comment at us. No one's told us we shouldn't be together simply because we live in different coloured skin. No one's pitied us or judged us for being irresponsible enough to bring a bi racial baby into this hostile world. Yet.

Another twist. In my time here I've been shocked by attitudes towards Mexican people, from churchy types to the general populous. People talk about "their" bad timekeeping, laziness, sexual promiscuity, immigration issues. It's all the same stuff the bigoted types said about black people when I was growing up in England. So you mean I am not on the bottom of the dung heap anymore? Funny, cos the comments are still offensive.

Ghetto Fabulous

All the more official bits about Sheffield are on the family blog. But I had some other thoughts about our time in England.

When I was at my all girls' secondary school (American friends, think junior high/high school) one of the major pastimes was getting into catty fights and hurling insults at one another. You had to be sharp to survive! The insults gots harsher and harsher, and would generally end in one of two ways. You could walk away, but that was shame upon shame, upon shame, so who was going to do that? Or you could take it to the next level and fight. None of that hair pulling stuff, that was for sissies and the weak (and for girls without afro hair and cornrows), it was full on slaps, kicks and punches.

But one of the worst cusses that you could hear was about where you got your clothes from.

( For the record, the worst possible cuss was to respond to any insult hurled at you with the two venomous deliberate words, "your mother". This always drew a collective girly gasp from the crowd, because everyone knew that to cuss out someone else's mum was an outright declaration of war. You might as well just say - let's fight, right here, right now.The attitude was - you don't cuss my mum, even if I argue with her every night. Some crazy family honour thing. Anyway, I digress, back to clothes)

It was degrading to be told that your clothes were rubbish. It was even worse to be told that your clothes came from Tesco. Just awful.

So then I get on a plane and go to England and I go to Tesco. And they always did clothes (otherwise teen insults were completely unfounded), but have you seen them lately? They are actually rather good. So good that on my last shopping opportunity I spurned the high street stores and said to my sister - in - law Raquel (well Rachel actually, but that's another story)
"Take me to Tesco!"
I love it! And if there was more time, I'd have gone to Asda, and Sainsburys too.

Has it always been this good? Now I look at my Cherokee and George items with pride (If you don't know what I am talking about you need to catch up). So now if someone said to me
"You buy your clothes from Tesco"I'd be like - Thanks Very Much, you say the nicest things!

Who knows what the change is? When we were growing up it was rubbish being skint and we all had to have addidas (actually I've not changed that much), and gold chains and nice clothes. We may have been poor, but we weren't going to look it. There was so much to prove back then.

I guess for me its not the same anymore, for the most past. Now bargains are an essential part of life, lest I give in to the "I can't be bothered" attitude that is engendered by being puked on four times a day. Now I have the best of both, Tia can burp to her heart's content.

Isn't She Lovely...

said one fellow passenger.
Isn't she wonderful? said another.

Isn't she precious? spoke a third passenger.
Tia slept pretty much all the way over to England and was quiet and mellow on the return flight to the states.

Now its just a matter of getting her through the jet lag.....not so straightforward!