A Braestone Christmas Carol

We’re sitting in the office on a winter’s evening. Ruby snores at our feet, while outside snowflakes gently weave a blanket upon the hills of Braestone.

We’re having a drink - Old Fashioned for Sue and a whisky for me. She reads her Kindle and I thumb a tattered copy of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

I get up and walk to the front of the house. From our front porch, with the flickering lanterns our community could be a movie set… perhaps an English village from another time.

We go for a walk through the streets, across the farm, and on the trails of Braestone. A one-hour stroll becomes double or more as we visit with charming characters along the way. Folks remark how we are insulated from the outside world in this snow globe of ours – protected by the setting and by the kindness of neighbours.

But A Christmas Carol is stuck in my head. I’m a sucker for the story – in its many versions and adaptations in print, on screen, or on stage. Upon our walk each person becomes as gentle a soul as Bob Cratchit or adorable as Tiny Tim.

On this excursion, we don’t meet a single Ebenezer.

So I recall past performances to hold him in my imagination: There’s Bill Murray, Scrooge McDuck… Michael Caine alongside Kermit... Even The Fonz starred in a version filmed in Elora, Ontario. My personal favourite is, of course, Alistair Sim.

Their portrayals are memorable because a most despicable man – void of humour, grace or self-awareness – is transformed into the very definition of Christmas warmth and generosity.

And it’s the ghosts that are the drivers of transformation – 3 visits – from the Past, the Present and Christmas to come. They are bridges between this world and the next – between our automatic routines and deeper reflections.

“Come in and know me better, man!”

Strolling across the Braestone landscape and reflecting upon 2020, it’s the Ghost of Christmas Present that I find most compelling. You will recall, he is the huge, jolly ghost surrounded by an abundant feast. “Come in and know me better, man!” he exclaims.

Before leaving Scrooge, the Ghost of Christmas Present reveals two feral children hiding under his cloak. He calls them Ignorance and Want – his sharpest warning to Ebenezer.

The pandemic has illuminated many things, not least of all, the widening chasm: between those who work remotely, and those who can’t, and between those who safely isolate and those who share spaces with a multitude.

Ignorance & Want – seem to have new relevance in 2020.

I speculate how each of us will be transformed by recent events. Deprived of the connections – the visits, the hugs, the bbq’s, concerts, and festivals - and overwhelmed by the news stream of infections, reproduction rates, and case counts – how will we be changed? How will Braestone be affected?

Preparing our abundant Christmas feast – although we’re fewer in number than years past – I wonder what hides beneath my cloak?

Dickens’ message is simple enough – and that’s what makes it so powerful. I think he wants us to see the Ebenezer within. I am moved by the storyline because I’ve had such Scroogian thoughts - self-absorbed, self-pitying, and reckless.

But stories of transformation can reinforce our faith – and as we return home from our promenade - I am filled with new determination to not waste the grueling lessons of this year.

May we make 2021 one hell of a lot better than 2020 and as Tiny Tim said, “God bless us, every one!”

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