Rich in Promise

The run up to the end of the Autumn term is always full of delight. This year two significant storms and a flood in the Manor House cellar were not quite the sort of delights I had in mind. That said, I did get to know the cellar better than ever in the past eight years and the Christmas tree unceremoniously snapping by the gales was brilliantly resurrected by the Estates Team and survived Darragh, so all’s well etc.

Although not the high point of the Christian calendar, that is reserved for Easter, Christmas is hugely significant. The Advent preparation that precedes encourages us to draw focus on the things that matter, perhaps in contra-distinction to the world at large which seems to be doing a good job of pulling us the other way. Black Friday is not confined to 24 hours but breaks its banks and pours out over the weeks that follow. The wider political scene is equally disturbing. But in the midst of all of this, the spirit of Christmas shines.
 
Tuesday morning saw a special gathering in the Old Library. It was time to celebrate the Headmaster’s Commendation recipients. To be in their company at any time is a delight. To have the opportunity to acknowledge their endeavour over a host of areas made it all the more so. One observation I shared was that they should hold lightly the certificate they received, not because it was unimportant but the opposite. The piece of paper is a symbol of something much deeper. It is not about perfection; they aren’t and don’t pretend to be. It symbolises in much the same way currency symbolises a promise. The currency is a promise to pay, the certificate a symbol of their promise, their potential, their contribution to making the world a better place.
 
This promise of a better world was also evident in another incident. Last week the Prep held their service of carols and readings for Christmas at Romsey Abbey. As I entered, I noticed an elderly gentleman in conversation with the CCF cadets stewarding the event. Ollie encouraged me to join the conversation and what unfolded was as Christmassy a story as anything Hollywood could conjure and moving such that it would draw tears from a stone.
 
The gentleman had seen the children being led into the Abbey and was moved by how orderly they were and at the connection they had with their teachers. He said he didn’t have any connection with us but that they reminded him of the moment he left London during the war. He was sent on a train and recalled lining up, holding the hand of an adult he didn’t know or recognise but whom he trusted to look after him. He reminded me of how special the teachers are and, in his experience, how special the adults were who looked after him. He did go on to say that it was mostly the female staff who did the bulk of the work, but I couldn’t possibly comment. He offered a box of sweets to be distributed to one and all at a time of my choosing. 
 
An outrageous act of random kindness visited on us by circumstance, and the memory of kindness received many years ago, brought a warm glow to all who heard the story and met our visitor. He wouldn’t hear of not accepting the gift nor taking anything in return. He wished us a happy Christmas and went on his way. There is much in the press to worry us, but the persistence of kindness, of goodness and the generosity of strangers remains. His gift was simple but lasting; the sweets like the certificates being a sign of a deeper promise. I wish you and your families the same, a gifted Christmas rich in promise.