Christmas: a cosy hearth and united family; a sweet baby who will save humanity and gives his mother a silent night to boot. The stuff of Dickens and Christmas cards can give grief a new blood supply. It makes us ache over the absent – the dead, the far away, those (spouses, children) who may never have arrived in our lives at all. It’s a day when, suddenly, what you’ve got and where you’re at (by a hospital bedside; waiting for the kids to be dropped off by the ex; alone) is thrown into life-defining relief. Outraged by the in-laws, sweating over the bank balance, crying over the turkey about people who can’t get home to eat it – it can seem more Lenten mortification than “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”.When I converted, I lost count of the p