December 25, 1990; Jamaica, New York, United States of America. I was seven years old, my brother, six. My late aunt Judy had brought us to St. John’s Hospital and we sat in the lobby/waiting area. She bought us hot chocolate from a street cart, which means it was really Swiss Miss dissolved in hot water.
My cousin Sienna was born that day; she entered the world and my mom’s side of the family as the 3rd granddaughter, 8th grandchild.
I don’t remember the gifts I received for Christmas — especially since my nuclear family doesn’t exchange gifts anymore — but her arrival was probably the best Christmas present we all received.
December 25, 2008; Lodwar, Turkana, Kenya.I’m twenty-five years old, and this is the first (thus far, the only) Christmas I’ve been apart from family.
I’m sitting around a table, on a couch, in the yard of a missionary’s homestead with my six teammates (the OG Team Dunamis). We had returned from watching 20+ people get baptized in the “river”, a term I use rather loosely as that corner of Kenya is rather arid. A few hours before the baptisms, we had participated in a midnight Christmas Eve service.
I go into the concrete/cinderblock house, into the room, where my backpack is stashed. I unzip the detachable top portion and take out the bags of mini Toblerones and fun-size Skittles; I had bought this chocolate and candy in November when our squad was in Hong Kong. I would check occasionally to see how the Toblerone held up in the desert heat.
The chocolate survived. I return to the table and proffer the treats to my teammates. They were amazed to discover that the Toblerone mostly kept its integrity. A Christmas miracle!
The ways that Western cultures celebrate Christmas, chocolate and candy are but stocking stuffers. There in Kenya, these small simple treats were the gifts I gave to my spiritual family. I like to believe that God held the sun’s hot rays at bay over that part of my backpack as it spent its days sitting in that oven of a room, just so i could bring a little joy to these three brothers and three sisters of mine.
There’s no such thing as a small miracle.
The best gifts are simple ones.
