This has been been the oddest and most challenging Christmas season that I can remember. My mother has passed away, my wife was suddenly taken to hospital on the same day and I have a strange infection of a facial gland which came out of nowhere. I won't even go into the events of recent months which can almost rival these. Suffice it to say that this has been an annus horribilis.

Not to complain - these kinds of things affect everyone at some time - but the piling up of disasters both small and big in such a short period of time is unprecedented in my lifetime. To cap things off, we found a dead possum in our wheely bin this morning. Ann and I gently removed it and gave it a decent burial up in the back yard. It was a very cute one that we had often seen walking on the power lines.

As a Christian I am aware of how St Paul dealt with the hugely varying circumstances in his life. In Philippians he wrote,

'I have learnt the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.' (Ph 4;11-13)

He was an extraordinary man in many respects, but I yearn to emulate the sense of being content when troubles build upon troubles, no matter what. I have a long way to go, but it is possible for he adds in the same verse, 'I can do all through him who gives me strength.'