The fourth Sunday in Advent

When we got up at half past eight the rain had finally stopped, outside the last of the rain clouds are disappearing to the east, blue sky and a bright sun gladden the day. Norman is in a good mood, skipping to and fro and then wriggling on his back, perhaps it is the change in the weather? Or more likely the aroma of breakfast cooking! After we have eaten, I check the Internet connection and find it is still down, so I drink my coffee and listen to the radio until it is time to shower and dress for church, leaving at ten past ten. Before closing the door and driving to Saint John's, I promise Normy that I will come back and take him out immediately after church. Today is the fourth Sunday in advent, and Christmas celebrations do not start until tomorrow, Christmas Eve, the church will be decorated with holly, ivy and other greenery in the morning after 9:30 mass and the mass of the Nativity will take place at six thirty in the evening, followed later by a mass at midnight. I prefer the earlier service, fewer drunks and more families! This morning's service is well attended and the sermon given by Father David, on the individual's choice about faith, apposite. The existence of God is unprovable, in my opinion, by rational exercise of intellect, and therefore it is a matter of faith or doubt, the terms are interchangeable. My belief is both pragmatic and emotional. Emotional, in that I chose to interpret the deep sense of oneness and well being experienced occasionally in meditation, as the love of God, and pragmatic as I find faith energises me whilst doubt debilitates. Sometimes I scandalise other Catholics when asked about my faith, as I reply honestly, that my faith marginally exceeds my doubt. But of what value is faith in the absence of doubt? The Taliban claim to have no room for doubt! Enough said. After communion, I keep my promise and collect Norman, driving to Albert Terrace, where I park and then walking Normy on the Westwood, the wind is blowing hard from the West, so we potter around the woods in Newbegin Pits and then call in to see Felicity. She is feeling a little better today, so we stay and drink tea and chat with her for an hour until her daughter, Melissa, arrives with her boyfriend, Nick, they are going to take Fliss's dogs out for a walk. We call in to Beverley on our way home to buy some more tomatoes, the one's from Morrison's had gone mouldy this morning. Beverley is packed, as most people are making it their last day of shopping. Christmas Eve afternoon will be dead, it always is and we will get whatever bits and pieces we need then. Leslie's son in law is visiting him today and so I have arranged to see him tomorrow afternoon, before six thirty Mass. From what Margaret, Leslie's daughter says, my old friend is becoming increasingly irrational and demanding, underlying it, I am sure, is fear but the onset of a rapid dementia appears ever more likely. We arrive home at half past two and spend the rest of the afternoon doing the final cleaning before Christmas. By five o'clock everywhere is tidy and I make dinner for us both, we are having sirloin steak, chips and salad, I slice off the fat and a strip of meat for Norman and then cut it into small pieces and place it in his bowl. After dinner, miraculously, the Internet is working again, albeit very slowly and I manage to upload yesterday's blog. I also find the Guardian has auto renewed for another month, so scan the Observer, but don't really have the inclination to read it tonight, I also stop itunes from autorenewing next month, as I really do want to consider my options. Later I take Norman out for his walk and just let him wander off the lead, all he wants to do is potter about our cul de sac, sniffing here and there and marking his patch. It is much colder tonight, the sky clear and a gibbous moon low to the east, after twenty minutes the old chap has had enough and wants to return indoors. More rain is forecast for tomorrow, but a day without it has been pleasant. To bed for nine thirty.