R is for RELATIVE

My granny and grandad lived in a huge house on the east side of Belfast. It was called Park Avenue and was in fact two houses joined together. Their neighbour, a Mr. Ruddell, lived alone and I never saw him face to face during my visits though occasionally I would catch a glimpse of a figure in an overcoat and hat, walking around his garden. I don't know what happened to his part of the house when he died but it was never occupied again. My grandparents' house had a very large garden with lots of little concrete paths meandering through the lawns and flower beds. There was a driveway from the front gates of about fifty yards , covered in tiny pebbles and leading to two sets of steps that ended at an ornate front porch. Inside was lots of old furniture that my grandad had picked cheaply at auctions and , though I was young when they lived there, all the rooms seemed to be large. To the right of the front door and halfway down the hall was a wide staircase the wound its way up to the second storey and had the smoothest banister that I have ever had the pleasure of sliding down. To the back of the house was a smaller, narrower staircase, that, I presume, was used by servants in a previous life of the house. I often stayed in the house during the summer with mum and my sister and spent hours on a little push scooter whizzing though the little paths, under the ornamental arches and down the many sets of concrete steps or sometimes taking out one of the hockey sticks belonging to my uncle and pushing a ball about on the lawn. But the main memories of the house was always Boxing Day for all the relatives were summoned to attend a massive feast and everyone duly obliged.

Granny and Grandad were never rich, the house having been bought at a time when property was inexpensive but on Boxing Day my granny would be up from dawn, preparing the turkeys and all the trimmings in readiness to welcome all her children, their wives and her grandchildren. Grandad would have been getting the fires lit and doing the other bits and pieces around the house and by mid morning everything was in order and the clan would start to arrive. They had nine children, although the eldest now lived in Canada and in the early years of the get-togethers, the two youngest boys still lived at home, while the majority were still in the city or close to it. We lived furthest from the city and it usually took a good hour to get there since the M1 only stretched as far as Lisburn but this was compensated for by the fact that generally the roads were much less busy than they are now. Still we were almost always one of the first to arrive as mum liked to be there in time to help her mother with the preparation. By the time everyone had arrived, there were twenty four adults and children and we all ate in a big dining room just off the kitchen and then almost always the men watched the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth horse race on Grandstand immediately afterwards.

This same routine continued for years, even after my grandparents sold the big house and moved to a much smaller residence just a few streets away but it was always a special event, seeing all the relatives, many of whom we had not spent time with since the previous Christmas and by the time everyone was married and all the children had been born the number in the family circle had risen to the mid thirties. At times it was bedlam in the smaller house and grandad would often slope off to a a quiet room for a while just to get a few minutes of solitude while some of us older kids might go to a hockey, football or rugby game with our uncles and dads. However as the years passed granny just became less able to shoulder the burden and eventually all the families persuaded her that they would bring the food and organise the day though she still liked to be in charge if only there to direct operations that were happening anyway. So it continued until she passed away and I will always have fond memories of those Boxing Days, playing with all the other children, spending time with my uncles, aunts and grandparents, leaving a smoky city in the evening and counting the Christmas trees all the way home.

ON Christmas Eve this year, we shared Communion as part of my other family, those who believe in Jesus as their Saviour. It was a special time, to meet with people from all walks of life and to know that we all have the one Father whom we worship. Like my earthly family, that too is a blood relationship, created by the blood which Jesus shed for my sins when HE died on the cross. Yet while our earthly families disappear and we are only left with the memories of great family reunions on such days as today, we as a family of believers can meet together at any time and remember not only God's love for us, through His Son's death but also the promise He has made about our reunion with Him in Heaven. Paul tells us in his letter to the Hebrews 'Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers.' Jesus Himself said 'And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.' Now that's one family gathering I don't want to miss.