Christmas Bells in the Air!

Christmas Eve, bells were chiming, it was Yuletide again. Cosmic Elke lay in her empty double bed, reflecting on her festive preparations. She had been sending greetings online, hoping everyone had a good year. Being traditional, her family all purchased Christmas cards, and so had some of her gal pals. Maybe it was a chick thing. Personally, this season she gazed at her failing legibility, bemused by the array of cards she felt obliged to post. So, she deployed her trusty computer and printed off enough tags saying.

"Best wishes from Elke." All in larger print, due to everyone that much older.

She purchased some paste, to sit down and adhere the greetings to the cards. The focus was to get the task done that week. She realized she said that to herself last week, but definitely the week ahead. "I must prepare for Christmas Bells." she told herself. Cosmic mystic mediums are very good on cut and paste, it was part of her job description. Craft is cool.

Thoughts of the traditions of Christmas Day there Down Under did instigate imagery of Father Christmas on a surfboard at the beach. His bulging belly was clad in board shorts. Just the waft of Bing Crosby, and Aussies had artificial snow and old style tinsel, under perhaps blazing blue skies.

Really, some Yuletide days Cosmic Elke had survived have meant sudden fashion decisions depending on any summer's capacity to bring snow, hail, searing hot days, or seven inches of rain. Indeed, anything was possible. Santa fit right in, whatever the meteorologists might predict.

Then there was the food and drink. Some Christmas meals were quite tasteful, moderate, not too excessive. The spoiled had been heard to all groan, as more indulgent offerings appeared.

"Not more food!:

Elke wondered aloud, "Would Santa, let alone Jesus, think we are all a bit crude?"

Prior to the actual day of sharing, lots of women could all be engaged in a frenzy of shopping for that elusive perfect present.

That was the Australian tradition. Giving and receiving what everyone hoped were well chosen gifts for each individual. All their gifts were for the giving. Elke suppose many may have done this too, spent some energies to purchase least expensive rolls of Christmas wrapping, to save money on quality wrap. The less expensive gift paper the better. That way everyone aspired to turn under the Christmas tree into a treasure trove extravaganza of what they hope delighted families and pals.

"Any constructive feedback on this retail therapy is acknowledged. Or are most people being polite?" An insensitive query no one asked.

Many mega stores nationally were already complaining that their profits for selling stuff at Christmas are not as high, but even Elke might never know. Time takes care of stuff, whether personal, national or global. Old Father, Time is old, and marches on for stuff, and each human, even locally in Goodly Town.

That is one way of celebrating when the founder of His faith was born at a magical moment in human history, an inclusive inspiration. It was now politically incorrect to express greetings of

"Merry Christmas". Faith could inspire kindly feelings, but maybe there are too many "isms" in our world. Elke believed in hoping all our leaders make wise decisions for the future of peace of our world.

She barracked hard for peace, it would be worth it, whether it was happy time of year, or an excuse for conflict. All she would liked to say, damn right in these days, "Make ceasefires around the planet for that one day in December, and beyond the festive Yuletide day. Like right away!"

Happy Holidays, or Merry Christmas. She wanted to type as well,

"Do whatever you can, we can express kindness for Christmas however we like. Whatever floats our boats."

Dithering Cosmic Elke was ruminating about a life-changing decisions .She finally posted a Christmas card which was personally signed. She addressed it to big Al Grayson, the former detective. She wondered what career he had taken up, hoping he was content now. She also sent him an e-card. He had promised to stay in touch. He had texted to her his address and email, that he was waiting until she had divorced her useless husband.

Cosmic Elke was free, living a single life, managing to fund her essential expenses. Elke wondered if being a solo mystic was always to be her future. She had been prepared to seek a companion, someone to fill her double bed, maybe. Casting her eyes around some available dating fodder, all males she knew there in Goodly Town came with baggage. They were all men she had met in that beachside surfie scene.

So Cosmic Elke hesitated to perform that timeless flirty dance of love, the great Australian way. Elke was a skilled mystic, she just knew by morning, an email or text would arrive. She could only place her female trust in Big Al Grayson. Goodly Town by the sea was still his home too.

Over there, Big Al too had still not dated either. He had been brought up by a strong Christian mother and two devout older sisters, to respect and encourage women, to be a decent man. After his police experience, he was quickly offered a perfect job. He used his expansive police pension and entitlement to support the rather minimal salary as a Victim Advocate for guiding women through the legal procedures of the male-dominated court system of Goodly Town and all regions in his state.

Big Al was a champion for Aussie women who were surviving domestic violence, he spread his network of hope, to have faith their future. He knew the legal protocols, how to obtain intervention orders, adequate safe shelter, accessible future housing, with reliable networks to support the overcoming their need and choices. He gave them details for family counselling for their children, so they did not have to return to such environments.

For women facing court proceedings for substance dependency, he obtained rehab first, and Christian hope that they could survive any relapse. He subtly cast his message of Jesus gave them hope. These women soon all trusted Big Al Grayson. He had a separate for emergency contact.

By contacting Big Al Grayson with Christmas greetings, Cosmic Elke just knew he felt much the same as she did. She turned off her phone, and went to sleep in hope, smiling in the moonlight in the land.

As sea breezes wafted across their reunion, Big Al hoped to include Elke in his network of souls, to place her future in Christian hope. Subtly, of course. He was thrilled, as Cosmic Elke agreed that he wished to be her companion.

Soon, this fetching couple became more than companions, in either of their comfortable double beds. They were rediscovering the Christmas spirit, no alcohol needed. Cosmic Elke, that mystic medium, awoke on Christmas morning hearing bells chime, perhaps faith could be born again. She was still in her own bed, hoping unsavory males could improve. It was the magical time of the year. "Whatever floats your boat!"