Lesson 198. Christmas miracles happen.

If you're rolling your eyes at the fact that this is my second Christmas post this evening, please seek the help of a professional immediately because you may be severely ill. If you're about to start on about how Christmas should be confined to malls and the day itself, please imagine me performing a festive prance around you, singing Cliff Richard's classic about mistletoe and wine, and promptly placing a Christmas coloured kiss on your little grinchy cheek.

Hello lovers, good tidings of great joy. As afore mentioned, if Christmas was a man I would marry him immediately, and my preparations for this years festivities could easily be compared to that of a bride. Right, starting to sound a little bit weird so I'll press on.

I purchased 22 metres of solar fairy lights for my front porch in September. I was about to justify this decision to you and then realised that to do that would mean I think it needs justifying and that in itself is a preposterous idea. So the fairy lights arrived and I put them in one of my Christmas boxes, then tucked the box away until the time was right. Then the time arrived, so I got them out, stared at their German instructions for about 35 minutes, and then decided to just give them a go. I clambered about the porch with a few near falls, but I got there. They looked like they would be perfect, until I tried to turn them on, and failed. This continued for about a week and a half, and my Christmas spirit dwindled. They would not turn on and I had no idea how to fix them, my Lou tried to fix them but alas, they wouldn't turn on for her either. I gave up, I was going to have to go to the tacky Christmas shop up the road and purchase some overpriced lights purely for their English instructions. 

Defeated, I let my light disappointment fade to the back of my mind where I keep all my minor but still painful failures. The next night, my friends were dropping me home when a rather miraculous thing happened. I got out of the car, to see my front porch lit by the very fairy lights that had caused me such frustration. I literally ran into the house and announced to everyone that a Christmas miracle had taken place, and my sister agreed, because they hadn't even been on when she'd arrived home only about an hour earlier. 

So take heart and trust that sometimes Christmas miracles happen. Maybe yours is a little different, maybe it's a Christmas day where your rowdy Auntie doesn't get too drunk and insult other relatives, or maybe it's a message from a friend you grew apart from, or a smile from a someone unexpected. However small or big, celebrate your Christmas miracle, announce it with the joy and volume that it deserves. Christmas miracles happen.