The gifts the Wise Men brought the Christ-Child always intrigued me when I was a child. Frankincense and Myrrh; so exotic. By its scarcity in our household, Gold, too would have qualified as exotica. Then the names of the Kings: Melchoir, Balthazar, Caspar; none of my friends had names like that. Even our cleverest nicknames didn't come close to that. The Thing that we connected with, subconsciously, I'm sure, was the baby in the story.

As I grew older I came to understand that the baby itself was a gift. I would run over the facts of the story in my mind, as I knew them: The Spirit that created the universe made itself into one of the very creatures it had created; made itself into a human child. Well, we were all human children; most of the time at any rate. Even the aptly nicknamed "Mary-a Voom-Voom'', who believed herself to be a motor-car, and "Hoppo'', who walked with a limp.

Moreover, the mother of the Child was not married to its father; they were poor, and lived in a small country far from the center of the empire that ruled it. That was very like the situation we found ourselves in.

There was something subversive about the Power choosing to come as human child, we found to our delight; something dangerous, vulnerable a poor and touching. And it delighted us that kings and wise men came from far away to find this Child; maybe where this Child was...where we were, could also be the centre of the world. The very shape of the world, as we grew to understand it, accommodated the idea.

This is the empowerment of Christmas; the celebration of childhood, the acknowledgement, that who ever or wherever you are, whatever you station, your position was central to the Love that made the universe; and you yourself are a gift given, a gift you yourself can give.

Every year my friends come to share the gifts of themselves and their creativity. Lucky me, that so many of my friends are writers, actors, musicians, filmmakers, and artists.

Last year Erroll Williams showed a video of his film "Echoes in the Rink'', thespian Angela Barry made a welcome return as the Parisienne courtesan with a heart, Jessical Lightbourne sang her own song "Magic'', and Mike Jones had everyone in stitches with: Es brillig war: die schleimig Toven Wirrten und wimmelten in Waben All-mumsig waren die Burgroven Und die Mom-Rath' ausgraben! Full marks if you recognized the opening of `the Jabberwocky', in German! It is impossible to reproduce in print the tonal and guttural effects Mike uses to have us all split our sides laughing. Take my word. He stands there looking absolutely gormless, with the flattest delivery imaginable, letting the words work their devastating effect on us.

Over the years we've had Gene Steede, Lance Hayward, Violetta Carmichael, Sharon and Scott Simmons, Reynold Brown, Millard Williams, Margaret Carter, Amanda Outerbridge, Liz Jones, Joanne Pratt, Meridith Ebbin, Douglas Jones, Jerry Frith, Chalky Virgil, Jonathan Rawle Frederick, Ken McDowell, Brian Burland, Nelda Simons, Roselie Fox and others, come and share the gifts of themselves, sing carols, share food and wine. What friends! What gifts! My wife, Carolyn's gift is the decoration she hand makes; she chooses a theme, buys her craft materials and gets to work something in October. It's November as I write this and there's a table in our bedroom, laden with cones, balls, a hot glue gun fabric, ribbon, scissors, and stuff to make angel's wings. I can't possibly guess this year's theme. Her trees are always immaculately dressed in the decorations she has created from her own designs. Whatever else happens during the season, the night we friends gather to share our selves with each other is the night I receive the gifts I value the most: the love of good friends.