December 8, 2013
It’s a Christmas kind of morning this morning – well, as close as I can get so far away from everything I’ve ever associated with Christmas.
I put on my scarf over my t-shirt and shorts and wrapped it around myself in the coziest fashion I could manage without over heating. Before I sat down to listen to music and read a book I downloaded with the hour of internet I bought yesterday, I added to the warmth and made a cup of hot chocolate.
Looking through my music, I found two Christmas albums and let NSYNC and James Taylor serenade my morning. It was the first time I let Christmas music play, knowing that it was best to avoid music that has the uncanny ability to flood my mind with feelings and thoughts of home. Also knowing that every day after Thanksgiving my mom would have Christmas tunes blasting and my little sister would be begging her to turn it down on the car rides to school every morning.
But here I am, in Africa, and it doesn’t feel like Christmas at all – it feels like I’m stuck at a crowded, mediocre theme party in the middle of July.
Inside of our little building, we have a Merry Christmas banner and a few pieces of construction paper creating a paper chain, counting down every day until Christmas. But outside is colored much differently than the blanket of white that I am used to – there is a combination of saturated greens and browns and the bright sun is peeking out behind the mountains already breathing hot air into the day.
It doesn’t smell like Christmas either. There are no fresh candles burning in the living room or cookies baking in the oven. It smells like fresh flowers and trees, with a whiff of whatever animal is walking nearest to the open door.
And the faces I see peeking into the window of our building aren’t the familiar faces from home, they’re not even faces I recognize from our time here, which is a bit strange.
This morning doesn’t remind me anything of Christmas. Actually, Africa in general is the opposite of every Christmas I’ve ever experienced.
With all of these strange elements, it just doesn’t feel right and I’m tempted to turn off the Christmas music and quickly dump out the hot chocolate, before I realize how bittersweet it tastes without the familiarity of home. Without my family and friends and the peppermint creamer I pour into everything.
But I don’t. Actually, what my heart really desires is to pour another cup of hot chocolate. I’m not going to, because I have to ration it and I’m working on portion control this month – but that’s besides the point.
Which is simple, really. Christmas isn’t characterized by my location, or the weather, or who I’m with, nor the flavor of peppermint. It’s made sweeter by all of these things that I love so much, but it’s not created by them.
It’s a time created by Love and Goodness, because He brought it first.
And Christmas doesn’t change because I’m in Africa. I will miss home something fierce, but the main Character in this story isn’t me and the setting is meant for the whole world, not just mine.
He’s the Author, the Creator, and he bought grace for the world by taking off his crown and becoming a baby.
So this Christmas season, I will pour my handleless mug to the brim with hot chocolate. I will pretend that the white chips of paint from the water heater are marshmallows and then I will carefully pick them out.
I will savor the Sweetness of this season by remembering what it means for the world.
And I will find joy in the purest of places and allow the warm sun to beat down and accompany the hot chocolate as they work together to warm my heart in different and greater ways than ever before.
