As I hiked down the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro, I imagined what it would have been like to walk up to my parents’ front door on Christmas Eve and knock on it.
I wondered what their faces would have revealed—what they would have said and what it would have felt like to be home…for Christmas. It was a lovely daydream—one filled with long-standing Christmas Eve traditions and the sparkle of Christmas morning.
Alas, I’m not on a plane heading home. I’m joining the ranks of those who will miss Christmas with their families.
On Christmas day, I will find myself deep in the heart of Malawi, celebrating Christmas with people who don’t speak English. They don’t know the first thing about Christmas day traditions. They’ve never heard of Santa Claus or eggnog.
My friend Isaac was hoping to scrounge up enough money to buy his family some peanut butter to celebrate the holiday.
There are no Christmas trees out here—no houses brightened by festive lights. We don’t have invitations to Christmas parties and we haven’t sent out Christmas cards.
But, on Christmas day, my team and I will be hanging out with local villagers, playing volleyball and eating bananas. We might say “Merry Christmas” to each other. We may even go crazy and wear a red or green shirt that day.
In my own attempts to figure out how to miss Christmas at home, I’ve had to come back to the core of the holiday season.
2,000 years ago, people didn’t celebrate Christmas. There weren’t missionaries like me wishing they were at home for the holidays. They didn’t even have a holiday.
And, yet, it was the day that the Father decided to let something happen that would change my life. He decided that I was worth sending a sacrifice, letting Him die and then making a way for me to live forever with Him. Christmas was a ploy to show me that He loved me.
Christmas is about God’s love. It’s about Christ being born so that He could die…so that He could save the world. That’s all. Nothing else.
It’s not about parties or Christmas Eve services.
It’s about Love.
So, to my family—to Lauren, Mark and Toby—think of me as you hold a candle and sing “Silent Night”. Think of me as you open your stockings and drink coffee on Christmas morning. But, I will trust that, for now, I’ll have to be home for Christmas in my dreams.
I love you. Merry Christmas,
Ash
