Tag: grief

Holocaust Memorial Day

Holocaust Memorial Day calls us into a sacred kind of remembering, not distant or abstract, but close to the heart, where names, faces, and stories matter. We remember the six million Jewish lives stolen, alongside Roma, disabled people, LGBTQ+ people, political dissidents, and so many others whose humanity was denied. We don’t remember to wallow in despair, we remember because love demands truth, and because forgetting is the first step towards repeating.

Scripture doesn’t offer easy comfort here, but it does offer presence. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit,” the psalmist writes, and we cling to that promise for every life shattered by hatred. The cry of Micah still confronts us with holy clarity: God requires us “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Remembrance, then, is not passive, it’s a call to live differently.

We hold the tension between grief and hope. We name the darkness honestly, because anything less would betray the truth, yet we also dare to believe with John’s gospel that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” That light flickers in every act of resistance to hatred, every stand against prejudice, every choice to protect the dignity of another.

Today, we remember with reverence, we lament with sincerity, and we commit ourselves again to compassion, justice, and courageous love, trusting that God’s memory is deeper than ours, and that no life, no story, no tear is ever forgotten.

Dreading Christmas Day?

If you’re not looking forward to Christmas Day, you’re not broken and you’re not alone. For many people, this season brings pressure, noise, complicated family dynamics, painful memories, or the sharp ache of absence. The world tells us we should be joyful, grateful, and glowing, but real life doesn’t always follow the script.

It’s alright if you’re just getting through. It’s alright to keep the day small, to opt out of traditions, to say no, or to treat it like any other winter day. You don’t owe anyone cheerfulness or explanations. Be kind to yourself in the ways you can, a walk, a familiar film, a quiet moment, or a message to a trusted friend.

Christmas is just one day, not a measure of your worth or your faith, strength, or character. However you survive it is enough. You matter, deeply and genuinely, today and every day that follows.

International Migrants Day

International Migrants Day is marked each year on 18 December, inviting us to pause and really see the people behind the word “migrant”. It was established by the United Nations to recognise the millions who live, work, study, and raise families away from the place they first called home, often carrying both hope and grief in the same suitcase. Some move by choice, others by necessity, many by a mixture of both, yet all share the experience of crossing boundaries, visible and invisible.

The day shines a light on the contributions migrants make to societies, economies, cultures, and communities, contributions that are too easily overlooked or reduced to statistics. It also draws attention to the realities many face, exploitation, dangerous journeys, separation from loved ones, and the quiet strain of never fully belonging. At its heart is a call to dignity, fairness, and compassion, reminding us that human rights don’t stop at borders.

International Migrants Day asks more than polite sympathy. It challenges us to listen carefully, to resist fear-driven narratives, and to remember that migration is as old as humanity itself. It’s a moment to recognise shared vulnerability and shared strength, and to choose hospitality over suspicion, solidarity over indifference.