Boxing Day

I don't think anyone really knows where the name 'Boxing Day' comes from, though perhaps it has to do with the 'Christmas boxes' given to servants on this day.  It may go back much further, to an old tradition of placing donations in boxes set out by churches on this day, which is the Feast of Stephen the first Christian martyr.  A tradition of charitable works done on this day is enshrined in the carol 'Good King Wenceslas', written by John Mason Neale.

For us it is usually the day for giving presents to the wider family.  Christmas Day is always for us a day spent quietly at home - then on Boxing Day we venture out and meet up somewhere with other members of the family.  We'll be packing plenty of food later this morning then heading across to my mother's place, and I hope there'll be four generations gathered together there by tea-time.  So far we seem to have a nice day for it, with the sun shining (if in a rather watery way) and starlings making strange noises in the nearby trees.

As I look out from here, seagulls are drifting slowly across in some numbers.  Living where we do, up above the town, there is always traffic noise, even on a bank holiday - but much less of course than on a normal work day, so the sounds of sparrows and starlings come across all the more clearly.  There is a gentle and peaceful feel about things, which keeps me in a Christmassy and generally hopeful mood.  My poem 'The Christmas Rose' follows:

A rose there springs from tender root,

Christ-bearer, hailed in songs of old,

the flower of God's eternal love,

a new flame lit in winter's cold.

When half-spent was the silent night,

the rose foretold by prophets' tongue

give birth to one named Prince of Peace,

whose alleluias gladly sung

by angels in the frosty skies

brought shepherds to the manger-bed

to worship him; as so do we.

The Christmas rose in white and red,

bright in the darkness of these times

is sign for us of Mary's Grace -

Light of the World, of her new-born,

reflects in her so gentle face.