At last I am home from travel for a couple of months. I had a marvelous time, first at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference in British Columbia, Canada, in late October. It is one of the many best writers’ conferences because it concentrates seriously on teaching rather than everyone trying to teach others — and often you learn most yourself.

It is attended by writers of all sorts, published and unpublished: romance, historical, mystery, science fiction, fantasy, western, fact, biography, film script, pretty well any category you like. There are also editors and agents present, several hundred people altogether. We always meet old friends, and make new ones.

From Surrey (near Vancouver) I went to Utah to spend time with a great friend of many years, and we both get a lot of writing done, as well as exploring and generally enjoying. Actually in the three and a half weeks I was away, I wrote a whole novella for Christmas next year — first draft. Sometimes while traveling there are so many more thoughts pouring into the mind that work can go more easily than one would expect, even if it takes a little smoothing out later.

From Utah I flew to Los Angelos for the twentieth anniversary of Sisters in Crime, a professional organization for women writers of mystery. It was a terrific few days in which we all learned a great deal more about how to present our work with the best chance of getting it into film, or television.

It was all organized superbly and was extremely interesting. I have never met a nicer group of people. Because of the specialized interest, and the very tight schedule, there was room for only one hundred of us. For me it was one of those rare, perfect times when everything conspired together to make it excellent. The accommodation was good; the weather was in the high 80s, sunny and not in the least oppressive. Everything ran without a hitch, it was all interesting and appropriate, and above all, the company was superb. Even the food was delicious.

I believe I learned a great deal, and the future will tell what may come of it, but I feel abundantly richer already in both experience and friendship.

On the way east again I stopped in Kansas because I owed a debt of gratitude and friendship. Then of course I arrived home in Scotland to find nearly a month’s letters, emails, bills, etc., waiting for me, and owing letters of thanks to so many people.

While I was away there were some fearful storms, especially winds of over a hundred miles an hour, and up to four inches of rain in one day. It did quite a lot of damage to trees, and caused the worst floods in living memory in some of the villages. Since I have been back it has been very nice, last week sunny nearly all the time, although of course the days are very short.

I love the long, low light across the fields, the eerie golden glow of the light over the dark colours in the land. Many days last week were almost cloudless, and as far as I know, no frost yet here as close to the sea as we are. That can’t last, but there are still a few roses out in the garden, and one or two other late flowers. It will have to get a lot colder if we are going to have snow for Christmas — but that could happen!

We have had a change in the Branch Presidency, with the excitement, resolutions and new hope that that always brings. We badly need to bring our numbers up because in an area like this we lose a lot as young ones grow up and leave the north looking for work, further education, or on missions. We have lost three to missions lately who afterwards settled in other places, even other countries. I can hardly criticize; I wanted to travel and see the world, why shouldn’t they too, even though we miss them and their strength and support.

One of our other problems is that much of the work around here is at sea, to do with oil rigs and their maintenance, so the men can be at sea half the time, often one month away, one month ashore.

All the same, a change gives us all new opportunities and new chances to assess our needs and our talents. Today was our last meeting at the old village hall. Next Sunday we meet in a new temporary place, and we hope and trust that in a year we will have our own building, for the first time in this area. It will be a great day for us, and has every possibility of heralding a burst of growth, because it will be a building dedicated to the Lord. It will enable us to have a greater reverence, and hold meetings not only on Sundays, but also through the week, and on special events, in a more suitable way, and without risk of cancellation because of untoward circumstances. The town will feel our presence as a proper, recognizable church, which can only be good.

November 30th was St. Andrew’s Day, the patron saint of Scotland, so we held a party on the 1st December, using the hall of my house, which is about twenty-five by forty feet, and has a marble floor, which is quite good for dancing. I didn’t have to do anything; food, music etc. were all brought, and cleaned up again afterwards. I just benefited from some delicious stew the next day!

In Sunday School we are nearly at the end of the Old Testament, which I love, but I shall not regret leaving it, because next year it is the New Testament, which I love even more. Because of the changeover in callings, I even have the privilege of teaching Sunday School for three weeks, mostly the Book of Ezekiel, and next week Daniel and Esther.

I was struck last Sunday by the tremendous amount of material and the depth and importance of it in the lesson on Shepherds in Israel. It is a subject we are all familiar with because it runs throughout the scriptures, but the story of the dry bones that the Lord can clothe again with flesh is powerful, showing how illusory our perceptions can be, compared with the ability of God to create and to restore.

But one of the sections that moved me most, because I think we can interpret it otherwise, is the reminder that judgment comes not as a matter of weighing up our lives — the more good or the more bad — but it is who we are at the end that counts. We may have been struggling all through, and then suddenly seen wisdom and honour and turned from that which was ugly and learned to love, to forgive, to walk in the light of humility and trust, to fight for everything brave and lovely, to be grateful for time and the chance to try harder.

Or we may have been good all the way through, and at the last little space have given up, have yielded to hate, blame, self-pity and despair. It takes intense courage to endure to the end. It can be a long road, and a hard one. It can give loneliness, many wounds, disillusionment and pain. But it is still who you are at the end, brave or cowardly, generous or mean of spirit, forgiving or resentful, honest or tainted that counts. It is that spirit with which we face our Father that matters, so He can give us all that we have made ourselves able to hold, every blessing we have fitted ourselves to receive and to treasure and use and give thanks for.

Of course illness and injury, have to be taken into account, and the erosion of our abilities that sometimes age can bring. We are judged according to the light we have, anything else would be hideously unfair. And it is not only the light we have, which matters, but also the light we are willing to share with others.

We may judge others, and ourselves, too harshly, or too leniently. God will be fair. Sometimes we forget He is the perfect Father, longing to give us everything. It is we who will not hold out our hands to accept, we who sometimes snatch before we are ready, and cannot retain because we do not understand the beauty and the value of the gift. How much do we throw away without seeing its worth, or remembering whom to thank?

It is not mine to judge others, thank heaven, because I know far too little. But it could be mine to heal! Or if not heal, then at least to ease pain or fear, unravel confusion, offer hope, learn enough that I can shed some light on other people’s shadows, and on my own.

The lesson today was on the pure water that the temple of Ezekiel poured into the desert, and into the Dead Sea, to heal its waters and make them bring forth nourishment for life, for trees whose fruit would be meat for man, and whose leaves would be medicine.

We spoke of the great truths that form this water: the Plan of Salvation, the knowledge of who we are, children of God who loves us as only a parent loves, protectively, with power and blessing, understanding and wisdom. If we know these things deeply enough, and live as if we do, then we can carry this water to the people of the world, bearing it in our hands, to give life where there is sterility, fruit where there is hunger, and cleanliness where there is pollution. It is a great and beautiful opportunity, and how could we not wish, above all things, to carry it with us?

To be bearers of the water of life is surely a holy calling. And now in the month when we celebrate the birth of Christ, the coming of hope into the world strong enough, bright enough, with the courage to go forth and conquer the darkness, surely after the rejoicing, with the new year ahead, we can resolve to drink more deeply of the water ourselves, and then carry it to others.

May the joy and the hope of the season be yours, water to nourish and to heal, faith to guide the way towards the light.

Have a meaningful Christmas.