Christmas Eve
Dad came to stay with us Christmas. He visited us the week before with tons of alcohol!
One day there was nothing under our tree and the next day there was beer and about 20 packs of Bacardi Breezers and Bailey’s and Champagne and so on and so on.
It did make me giggle, ‘Thank Dad.’ I said.
To Dad, this is such a good Christian thing to do. They say the gift you give to others is really what you’d like yourself.
When the girls were little I became dependent on alcohol. I would drink Whisky during the day while they were at school and it killed the feeling, the inadequacy of life, just dulled the senses I guess and it felt good.
When I sobered up though, I felt depressed and I couldn’t sleep as my sleep was so deep that I woke up too early and couldn’t sleep again. What’s more I always felt groggy. No one knew about my drinking, I don’t think. I didn’t tell anyone and I was careful to mask the smell on my breath.
I was 20 [16 years ago] with two children, unemployed, sacked from my factory job, I had a mum whose only concern was her boyfriend and an absent father who was an alcoholic himself.
I remember when my Dad went to Alcoholic’s Anonymous and he brought back the prayer
Lord, give me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I prayed this as a teenager and I truly believed the words in the prayer, trouble was, who was I praying to? I was praying to myself. I was Lord of my life. I knew of a general god like most people do but I was unaware of Jesus who is God, thee God, the one who answers prayer. I cried out ‘Lord’, but the Lord whom I had cried out to, was only too pleased to leave me where I was, on self-destruct.
It was only when I began to let Jesus into my life at the age of 28 that I realised there was more to life than the one that had befriended me and betrayed me.
So here I am, 2008, together now with my Dad [we met up again a few years ago] and all this alcohol under the tree.
Although, I walk through this life as a Christian, born-again, made new into this life with Jesus, he always reminds me that there’s a real world out there and to never forget it.
These days I can laugh off the alcohol, I can have a drink, but it doesn’t rule my life anymore and the good thing is my Dad can have a drink without becoming violent.
Instead, he has a drink and he falls asleep and that’s what I always dreamed of, a Dad who fell asleep after his drink. But surely, you’d prefer a Dad who didn’t drink? No, I love living with real and messy people. I love my colourful past and my just as colourful present, it’s what makes me real and I love my Dad.
He’s changed a lot and give him all due respect for changing, as the prayer asks, ‘Give me the courage to change the things I can.’ It took courage for my Dad to say, ‘I did wrong and I’m sorry.’ He didn’t quite say it like that LOL he actually said, ‘I’m sorry I was such a ******.’ But I know what he means, I understand my Dads language, it’s from the heart.
So Christmas Eve and my Dad’s on the beer. I ask him, ‘You are aware Dad that that we’re going to church later aren’t you?’
‘Aye’, he says. ‘But it’s ok, I’m not driving.’
‘Well Dad, there always seems to be a drunk at the back of the church on Christmas Eve and tonight it’s you!’ I said in a jokey fashion.
Sometimes you have to laugh at life otherwise it’d chew you up and spit you up like a piece of Wrigley’s.
So, we went to Midnight Mass, not the Catholic variety, but the Anglican sort, St Martin’s on The Old Dean.
It was good to see my work colleagues there aswell. Bob the vicar gave everyone a glow stick either to appeal to the teenagers or so that we could read in the dark. It appealed to my Dad who became a teenager with the beer inside him who couldn’t stop giggling and raised the glow sticks every so often in the ‘ACID…ACID’ generation style!
‘DAD! Stop it!’ I whispered with vigor.
He put his hand over his mouth and giggled quietly to himself like a naughty little boy.
St Martin’s had the church decorated out so lovely with the candles and Christmas lights. Bob’s teaching was spot on with exception to the bit about the shepherds being the outcast ‘Like Gypsies of today.’
It didn’t go down too well as I’ve just discovered my family are Gypsies, my Great Grand parent’s were travellers and then the family became settled travellers.
My Dad stopped laughing and I said a little prayer to Jesus, ‘Jesus, I will do anything for you if you would just bring my Dad’s fist under control.’
However, I need not have worried, my Dad was under control, he was a little merry with the beer and either didn’t hear or really has changed :O)
We went up for communion and had some bread and some wine. The wine was so very very strong that people were coughing left, right and centre.
It was nice going up for the Lord’s bread and wine which represents his body and Blood which was shed for us. It kinda makes you feel all Holy inside, except I had Antonia who was coughing so hard with the bread and the little old Lady in front of me who found the wine a little heavy on the chest.
.Everyone choking on The Lord’s bread and wine and Dad going back into his fits of giggles who himself was choking!
How can a girl pray with all this unholy commotion going on?
I told Antonia it was Port as it tasted like Port. Antonia looks at me with a glazed expression, ‘Mmmm I like Port.’
Oh boy! We need prayer for this generational curse!
When we got home, the girls and Dad went to bed and I wrapped all the presents as I do every Christmas Eve.
Earlier in the evening The Christmas dinner had been sorted, peeled, par boiled and made up all ready to go the following morning.
The table had been set, candles laid out and gold reindeer placed on each Christmas plate, Christmas music playing in the back ground while we all sang, ‘It’s the season, love and understanding, Merry Christmas everyone.’
My Dad playing air guitar to a bottle of beer and the ceiling dripping water onto me as I peeled and lopped the final sprout. Georgina had flooded the bathroom!
Music off, everyone rushing upstairs banging on the door, ‘GEORGINA! GEORGINA! THE FLOOR IS COMING THROUGH THE CEILING!’ Georgina come out, quite unimpressed with all the palaver, waltzed into her room with not a care in the world.
The water after what seemed like eternity stopped dripping through the ceiling and everyone was non the wiser how or why we had the problem to begin with, but at least the sprouts were done!
So, now it is 1am and everyone is in bed, the town sleeps as Christina wraps the presents to a glass of Bailey’s
As she wrote on the presents with the Sharpie pen, she heard an advert play out in her head, ‘SHARPIES WRITE ON ANYTHING!’
At the moment she saw the cat, the cat about to escape, Christina had the look of the hunt in her eyes as she writes Happy Christmas on the ears of the cat, the ginger Tom, Mitchell.
Sharpies really do write on anything!
Oh boy! Was it tiredness, was it the Bailey’s or just plain madness?
Who knows, the cat’s ok now by the way, just incase there are RSPCA fans among you. Mitchell is proudly parading his ‘Happy Christmas’ mark only needing to be updated for the New Year!
LOL
And so to sleep for me, Christmas tomorrow :O)
Dad came to stay with us Christmas. He visited us the week before with tons of alcohol!
One day there was nothing under our tree and the next day there was beer and about 20 packs of Bacardi Breezers and Bailey’s and Champagne and so on and so on.
It did make me giggle, ‘Thank Dad.’ I said.
To Dad, this is such a good Christian thing to do. They say the gift you give to others is really what you’d like yourself.
When the girls were little I became dependent on alcohol. I would drink Whisky during the day while they were at school and it killed the feeling, the inadequacy of life, just dulled the senses I guess and it felt good.
When I sobered up though, I felt depressed and I couldn’t sleep as my sleep was so deep that I woke up too early and couldn’t sleep again. What’s more I always felt groggy. No one knew about my drinking, I don’t think. I didn’t tell anyone and I was careful to mask the smell on my breath.
I was 20 [16 years ago] with two children, unemployed, sacked from my factory job, I had a mum whose only concern was her boyfriend and an absent father who was an alcoholic himself.
I remember when my Dad went to Alcoholic’s Anonymous and he brought back the prayer
Lord, give me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I prayed this as a teenager and I truly believed the words in the prayer, trouble was, who was I praying to? I was praying to myself. I was Lord of my life. I knew of a general god like most people do but I was unaware of Jesus who is God, thee God, the one who answers prayer. I cried out ‘Lord’, but the Lord whom I had cried out to, was only too pleased to leave me where I was, on self-destruct.
It was only when I began to let Jesus into my life at the age of 28 that I realised there was more to life than the one that had befriended me and betrayed me.
So here I am, 2008, together now with my Dad [we met up again a few years ago] and all this alcohol under the tree.
Although, I walk through this life as a Christian, born-again, made new into this life with Jesus, he always reminds me that there’s a real world out there and to never forget it.
These days I can laugh off the alcohol, I can have a drink, but it doesn’t rule my life anymore and the good thing is my Dad can have a drink without becoming violent.
Instead, he has a drink and he falls asleep and that’s what I always dreamed of, a Dad who fell asleep after his drink. But surely, you’d prefer a Dad who didn’t drink? No, I love living with real and messy people. I love my colourful past and my just as colourful present, it’s what makes me real and I love my Dad.
He’s changed a lot and give him all due respect for changing, as the prayer asks, ‘Give me the courage to change the things I can.’ It took courage for my Dad to say, ‘I did wrong and I’m sorry.’ He didn’t quite say it like that LOL he actually said, ‘I’m sorry I was such a ******.’ But I know what he means, I understand my Dads language, it’s from the heart.
So Christmas Eve and my Dad’s on the beer. I ask him, ‘You are aware Dad that that we’re going to church later aren’t you?’
‘Aye’, he says. ‘But it’s ok, I’m not driving.’
‘Well Dad, there always seems to be a drunk at the back of the church on Christmas Eve and tonight it’s you!’ I said in a jokey fashion.
Sometimes you have to laugh at life otherwise it’d chew you up and spit you up like a piece of Wrigley’s.
So, we went to Midnight Mass, not the Catholic variety, but the Anglican sort, St Martin’s on The Old Dean.
It was good to see my work colleagues there aswell. Bob the vicar gave everyone a glow stick either to appeal to the teenagers or so that we could read in the dark. It appealed to my Dad who became a teenager with the beer inside him who couldn’t stop giggling and raised the glow sticks every so often in the ‘ACID…ACID’ generation style!
‘DAD! Stop it!’ I whispered with vigor.
He put his hand over his mouth and giggled quietly to himself like a naughty little boy.
St Martin’s had the church decorated out so lovely with the candles and Christmas lights. Bob’s teaching was spot on with exception to the bit about the shepherds being the outcast ‘Like Gypsies of today.’
It didn’t go down too well as I’ve just discovered my family are Gypsies, my Great Grand parent’s were travellers and then the family became settled travellers.
My Dad stopped laughing and I said a little prayer to Jesus, ‘Jesus, I will do anything for you if you would just bring my Dad’s fist under control.’
However, I need not have worried, my Dad was under control, he was a little merry with the beer and either didn’t hear or really has changed :O)
We went up for communion and had some bread and some wine. The wine was so very very strong that people were coughing left, right and centre.
It was nice going up for the Lord’s bread and wine which represents his body and Blood which was shed for us. It kinda makes you feel all Holy inside, except I had Antonia who was coughing so hard with the bread and the little old Lady in front of me who found the wine a little heavy on the chest.
.Everyone choking on The Lord’s bread and wine and Dad going back into his fits of giggles who himself was choking!
How can a girl pray with all this unholy commotion going on?
I told Antonia it was Port as it tasted like Port. Antonia looks at me with a glazed expression, ‘Mmmm I like Port.’
Oh boy! We need prayer for this generational curse!
When we got home, the girls and Dad went to bed and I wrapped all the presents as I do every Christmas Eve.
Earlier in the evening The Christmas dinner had been sorted, peeled, par boiled and made up all ready to go the following morning.
The table had been set, candles laid out and gold reindeer placed on each Christmas plate, Christmas music playing in the back ground while we all sang, ‘It’s the season, love and understanding, Merry Christmas everyone.’
My Dad playing air guitar to a bottle of beer and the ceiling dripping water onto me as I peeled and lopped the final sprout. Georgina had flooded the bathroom!
Music off, everyone rushing upstairs banging on the door, ‘GEORGINA! GEORGINA! THE FLOOR IS COMING THROUGH THE CEILING!’ Georgina come out, quite unimpressed with all the palaver, waltzed into her room with not a care in the world.
The water after what seemed like eternity stopped dripping through the ceiling and everyone was non the wiser how or why we had the problem to begin with, but at least the sprouts were done!
So, now it is 1am and everyone is in bed, the town sleeps as Christina wraps the presents to a glass of Bailey’s
As she wrote on the presents with the Sharpie pen, she heard an advert play out in her head, ‘SHARPIES WRITE ON ANYTHING!’
At the moment she saw the cat, the cat about to escape, Christina had the look of the hunt in her eyes as she writes Happy Christmas on the ears of the cat, the ginger Tom, Mitchell.
Sharpies really do write on anything!
Oh boy! Was it tiredness, was it the Bailey’s or just plain madness?
Who knows, the cat’s ok now by the way, just incase there are RSPCA fans among you. Mitchell is proudly parading his ‘Happy Christmas’ mark only needing to be updated for the New Year!
LOL
And so to sleep for me, Christmas tomorrow :O)
1 comment:
Great stuff! Much fun and wisdom. Thanks for sharing.
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