I’m reluctant to say this in case it sounds self-pitying and negative. But I think it needs saying, so here goes.

I live alone, with my two dogs, having lost my husband almost 3 years ago. I was an only child, and both my parents died over 20 years ago. So ‘Christmas is a wonderful family time’ rings pretty hollow for me (thank you to the minister of my church for your Christmas sermon!). I quite enjoyed the first couple of days of the holidays - quiet time to myself, nice food, extra walks with the dogs - but after a while it wears a bit thin. I have had some good online chats with a few friends, but not had an in-person human conversation for over a week now. But some friends from around the world check in on me most days.

But who are those friends? When I stop and think, not one of them would claim to be a Christian. Most of them are members of the gay community. I got one invitation to spend Christmas day with a local acquaintance - someone I hardly know who I volunteer with at the local community centre (which I declined as I would have felt awkward being among so many strangers). In my own church, only one person asked me what my plans were for Christmas this year - and apologised that they weren’t able to have me for dinner on Christmas Day as they were planning a quiet day as a couple. Not one person suggested I call round for a coffee one day over the holidays - but a couple in a neighbouring town, whom I barely know from an online naturist group, have asked me over for coffee on Friday, and a gay friend I’ve never met in person has asked me to visit him up in Ayr at the weekend. I put out an open invitation to anyone from my church fellowship group and choir to call in for a coffee last night - no one came (one couple were very apologetic but had a previous family engagement, and one woman said she would have come but thought someone else would be there whom she didn’t get on with!).

There’s a lot of talk about love in the Christian community. One of the most sung hymns at my local church starts ‘Let us build a house where love can dwell… all are welcome in this place’. Yet how often do we actually stop to think who in our midst might be in need of some practical token of love? All may be welcome, but are they actively welcomed and made to feel they belong and are loved and cared for? I recently asked one of the elders about an elderly lady whom I had not seen for several weeks - was she okay? - and they hadn’t even noticed she’d not been around, and had to ask several other elders before they could answer me. Sadly, in my experience, practical caring and concern is often more evident outside the walls of the Church than within. We may be all smiles and handshakes on a Sunday morning - if you’re an Anglican then the weekly scramble of ‘the Peace’ is a major feature of the service - but does it actually extend much beyond that? Do we actually know who might be alone and feeling isolated in our congregation? And if we do, are we motivated enough to try and do anything about it?

I’m young and healthy enough to get out and about and find things to interest me and bring me into contact with other people (though most of these things close down for a fortnight at this time of year). But many people are not. Or perhaps they are, but have not got the confidence or the energy to keep making the effort., and are just longing for someone to come to them for once and strike up a conversation or invite them to sit and have a natter over coffee (rather than wait for them to come along to a formal meeting where someone may or may not take the time to speak).