As I write this, sitting on the deck of my cousin’s bach[1] looking out over Matheson Bay, as the gannets glide on the easy breeze and dive for fish in the gentle surf, it is easy to feel a sense of peace and goodwill.
The sense of goodwill, at least, has marked this holiday: paddling with the grandchildren in a kayak; playing family games; strolling through rain forest or along coastal walks; or enjoying a glass or two of Matakana wines with Lois. The peace is a bit more intermittent – being generally confined to when the children are bathed and in bed, or sitting reading quietly rather than charging round like elephants in boisterous games, or fighting over who should light the advent candle.
There is an incredible beauty around us, with towering kauri trees, bright red pohutukawas, and thick green bush all round. And we feel wonderfully blessed to be here.
At the same time, though, we long for others also to be able to share this blessing – for the peace and goodwill truly to be, as the angels promised, for all. For our friends who have suffered the horrible loss of bereavement this year. For those who have struggled with illness, family turmoil, children’s behaviour. For those who have been hurt by the very people who are supposed to offer safety, care and love. For families we have come to know who will probably never have an opportunity like this.
So we will hold on to the angels’ promise, we will enjoy the beauty that surrounds us, and we will ponder what we can do to share even a little bit of the peace and goodwill with which we have been blessed.
[1] New Zealand term for a holiday home