What Dreams May Come . . .
What does Christmas mean to you?
Presents?
Family?
Food?
Familiar songs?
Buddy the Elf?
Traveling to grandma's house?
Snow?
Candles in the windows?
White lights on the trees?
Candy canes?
Chocolate covered cherries?
A baby in a manger?
I knew this would be the first Christmas I would spend away from home, therefore I knew I would be missing out on all of those things. However, I had no idea what Christmas 2011 would look like, nor did I have any idea what kind of impact it would have on me. The days leading up to Christmas consisted our team working diligently, preparing and planting a large garden at Beacon of Hope, home for boys in Mozambique. It was grueling work being done in 100 degree heat. We were tired, we were hot, we were dirty, we were thirsty, and we were missing home. After dinner we would sit around in our mosquito nets and reminisce about the Christmas traditions each of our families have back home and how we were longing for them.
I wanted desperately to live in the moment, to embrace Christmas in Mozambique and all that it had to offer, for I knew I'd probably never have this experience again. But to be honest I was missing out on watching ELF with my niece and nephew, there would be no Christmas cookies, no new Christmas ornament hanging on my stocking, no placing surprise presents on the doorstep, knocking, and running away. No, this year would be quite different.
A couple of days before Christmas some of us found some Christmas music in our ipods and began blasting it around the house. One of our leaders collected socks from each of us and hung them on a clothes line in the hallway. We began cutting out snowflakes and drawing pictures of snowmen, all in an effort to bring the "Spirit of Christmas" to Mozambique. On the 23rd the Mozambican family we were staying with cooked all day and planned a special Christmas party for us. It was nothing like what my family considers traditional but it was delicious none-the-less. We ate our fill of barbecued chicken, fresh cut french fried potatoes, cole slaw, and coke. Now, I don't know what you are used to eating around the holidays, but on the World Race we're not used to eating much except rice on any given day, so this meal was a wonderful treat. After dinner we had a white elephant a gift exchange where we fought over silly things like baby wipes (you have no idea how handy they are), caribeaners, and peanut butter. On the 24th we held our own Christmas Eve headlamp service (we didn't have candles). And then came the big day. . . December 25th.
Funny how it began just like any other day. It was hot, really hot, and I didn't want to wake up. I was in Mozambique with a bunch of people who were not related to me. I didn't feel like I had anything to look forward to. But, I got up just the same, and when I went into the kitchen I encountered the most delightful smell I could imagine – cinnamon french toast with homemade syrup. It tasted as amazing as it sounds. Then a small group of us left for a local church. We went over the river (Giant rain puddles that could swallow your car) and through the woods (banana and mango trees), up and down bumpy dirt roads to get where we were going. We prepared 600 meals that day and before any of you were carving your Christmas turkey, they were gone.
Sometimes even when you are doing a good thing, it doesn't feel good. It doesn't seem like fun. It doesn't make the hurting stop (yours or theirs). It doesn't even make you feel like a better person. Sometimes it's just another day. For me, it was a painful day. It was not what I imagined Christmas day to look like once I turned 35. It was certainly not what I ever saw in any dream I ever had for my life. But that day I was part of providing Christmas dinner for someone (600 someones) who rarely has dinner at all. And sometimes THAT takes a good long time to sink in and penetrate your heart.
As I looked around at all the children with their hands held out to receive food, i was once again struck by the amount of blessing we have in the United States. Yes, there are people in the states who live below poverty, but for the most part, we have an abundance.We have running water, indoor plumbing, warm showers, 3 meals a day, jobs if we want them, doctors with degrees, paved roads, houses with roofs, options in the cereal aisle, chocolate covered cherries, and the list goes on. One of the most amazing gifts we have in the United States is OPPORTUNITY. We are allowed to dream. We are even encouraged to dream. AND we have HOPE that those dreams will come true. Too often I take this for granted.
After skyping with family back home, I laid down under my bug net and began to think about what next Christmas would be like, reveling in the fact that I'll be home with family and friends, engaging in the same traditions I have come to know and love. But I hope it will be different. I am no longer simply dreaming of a white Christmas (although that would be nice). I dream of helping the less fortunate, and feeding the hungry. I want to love the hurting and encourage the downtrodden. I hope to incorporate traditions like this into my Christmas festivities in the future. And wouldn't it be nice if Christmas came more than just once a year? Ah, what dreams may come . . .
