Merry Christmas one and all

I hope that everyone has had a lovely Christmas, whether spent with friends, with family or alone. I hope that you've all found peace and joy in whichever way works for you. I hope your Christmas has not been besmirched by arguments or tears, by disappointments or strife.

I did, as I generally do, send Christmas cards, and some of you who are both friends and readers will perhaps have received one (I'm a bit scattergun some years, and my ability to engage with posting schedules is poor). I considered not sending cards, not because of any particular Grinch-like tendency, but because I was specifically asked not to. Not, I hasten to add, because any of my nearest and dearest particularly dislike my hand-drawn cards, but because one of my friends made the request that instead of spending money on cards and stamps, we might make a donation to charity. and she had a very, very, very good reason for making that request. She has spent a large chunk of December in isolation in hospital, having her immune system entirely destroyed before having her own stem cells re-infused to try to give her a new immune system back again. You could read it in her own words rather better here:

My Positive Living blog.

Unsurprisingly, Lorna's raising money for the charity looking for a cure for, and providing support to sufferers of, the cancer that's attacking her body - Myeloma UK.

And that got me thinking about another friend, who spent last Christmas in hospital, being operated on for lung cancer. She's now part of the #facethefear campaign being run by the Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation, and is raising money and awareness for them.

Sarah's story is here.

I thought about my friend with myotonic dystrophy, who is never without a smile, and a helping hand for others, despite her own never-ending hospital appointments.

I thought about the son-in-law of another friend, who is unable to eat or speak as ALS takes hold of his body, and yet he gives his time and effort to raising money for the ALS Hope Foundation.

I thought about my friend who continues to live with the terrible after-effects of a car accident quarter of a century ago, but who is one of the most loving and giving women that I know.

And slowly, I went through in my own mind the friends and family I have who are facing battles. I thought about Alzheimers, about cancer, about depression, about injury, about bereavement.

And amongst all of that, I remembered, because I rarely forget, Alan Kurdi. Maybe his name, and his image, are already lost in the mists of time to you, but they aren't to me. His death on a beach in the Mediterranean still haunts me, and I still give money every month to Médecins Sans Frontières.

I thought about the dispossessed, the scared, the lonely. Those fleeing for their lives in desperate hope of a better life. Those living on the streets because they have nowhere else to go. 

I really know how to find the happy thoughts at Christmas.

But then I thought about what the point of Christmas really is, about giving, and sharing and loving.

I thought about people, like the Langdale and Ambleside Mountain Rescue, who don't stop giving their time and effort no matter what day of the year it is. I thought about the huge outpouring of donations Lorna has received, in part because she has given so much of her time and love to others, and they're now giving back. I thought about Sarah's determination to complete walking marathons and ultra-marathons to raise money for cancer research. I thought about my aunt, who always gives us charity gifts for Christmas (pigs this year). I thought about my cousin, who's quit his well-paid executive job to work for a charity dear to his heart. I thought about my LittleBear, willingly embracing the idea of putting a tasty treat in a box every day through Advent to take to the food bank. I thought about all the people who give their time, and love, and effort to run a huge football club for children like LittleBear, for no reason other than because the children want to play football. I thought about all the ways in which the people I know do try to make the world a better place.

It's Boxing Day. You've sent cards, you've given presents, you've imbibed wine, you're wondering if there's room for just one more chocolate. Maybe you're eyeing up the sales and wondering about a bargain. Maybe you're tightening the purse strings and wishing you hadn't spent so much. I won't judge, either way. But don't forget Lorna, or Sarah, or the volunteers all around the world trying to give all year, and not just at Christmas. If you can, help someone else. Help myeloma or lung cancer or myotonic dystrophy or ALS research. Help the homeless. Help the victims of the tsunami. Help. It's Christmas.

Here endeth the lesson.