In praise of... being a snowflake

When I wrote about Advent calendars last year, I didn't mention one in particular. For several years, Caritas Westminster, for whom I work, has been producing an Advent Giving Calendar used by individuals, and in parishes, schools and food projects within and beyond the Diocese. The idea is simple: for each day of Advent, people are invited to buy something which can be donated to a foodbank or other project, thereby helping to ease the pressures felt, especially at this time of year, by the projects themselves as well as their beneficiaries. It is also an invitation, during a time too often filled with consumerism and enticements to buy, buy, buy! to remember the people in our communities who are struggling, and need extra support. It's a good thing to do at any time of year, but especially during Advent, as we prepare to welcome Jesus, who comes among us in humility, obscurity and poverty. 

Each year we have had a different design: tea bags, shampoo, cereal and pasta have appeared on stars more than once, plus on angels, baubles, snowmen and sheep. The only constants have been the Calendar's purpose, and, of course, its religious nature - even when we had baubles and snowmen, the crib and the Baby Jesus were at the heart of everything. That certainly applies to this year's Calendar, with its incongruously giant snowflakes, falling softly yet steadily around a soon-to-be snowed in Holy Family and their visitors. 

For the past few years I have promoted the Calendar at the end of Mass in my parish, which runs a much-needed foodbank. This year, to general smiles and chuckles, I told everyone that this Advent they were being invited to be snowflakes. Yes, I know... Snowflakes have, in the course of a few years, gone from being uniquely lovely, ephemeral sources of wonder, scattering sunlight and joy, to being objects of derision: people who are over-sensitive and emotionally fragile, who crumble easily in the face of any opposition or criticism. 

But, I said, put a lot of snowflakes together, and you have a snowball! (And anyone who has ever been hit by one will know how potent that can be!) Put even more snowflakes together, and you can build a snowman - an activity guaranteed to bring out everybody's inner child. And even more snowflakes coming together can form a pretty immovable snowdrift - and anyone who has ever tried moving, or even digging their car out of one can attest to just how strong and resilient those snowflakes can be. And my hope was that, together, we could create a snowdrift of donations... which, of course, is really a snowdrift of each one's kindness and generosity and care, all piled high around the foodbank collection box. 

If you're still looking for something to do this Advent, then the invitation to you, too, is to release your inner snowflake! It's not too late to download our Calendar (from here), and begin supporting a local project. But, more fundamentally, discover and release your uniquely lovely inner self, scatter some sunlight and joy into our world's gloom... and know, truly know, that there is power, and strength, in unity and togetherness.