Light that flickers

8:30pm and in the throws of most intriguing day.

After a wee run to stretch the legs and lungs, work was utterly mad. My team are great, but some of the shenanigans we’ve been battering through are entirely daft.

But we’re still here.

Got some hairs cut on the way home, then a quick turnaround to a local carol-singing-cum-Christmas hangout with a family, their friends and neighbours at a grand old house. Which is where we pick up the story…

We were singing some carols and I was struck by the simple joy of singing. Enjoying the moment and grateful for the reminder of the both of Jesus, the world was sweet. The room was cosy, the atmosphere jovial. We finished our last carol - Silent Night - and a older gent in front of us fainted. Keeled over.

Mrs theWeir was amazing. She spent the next hour and a half with the stricken 80-year-old farmer, previous owner of the house, got him stable and comfortable and calmly got things done. She was brilliant.

I mainly kept close by to take instruction, the weeWeir and the dozen or so children were ushered to another room, the unneeded adults too. I found myself praying too. A lot.

After a wee while, some paramedics arrived and checked Mr B out, and by 21:00 he was ready to go home.

Grateful for SiL watching the wee-estWeir for us while we went out.

It’s funny how on a night of wild weather after a ridiculous end to a bewildering year at work, we still felt the urge to go out. To connect with people.

To be in the right place at the right time. We are alive right now for a reason. This time and space is important.