We’d lived in Lomalinda less than four months when, one December day, with the temperature 104 in the shade, I was walking a sun-cracked track while that celestial fireball cooked my skin. We’d just had a wildfire—a regular occurrence that time of year—and the smell of charred grassland swirled in the breeze.
The
school principal puttered up to me on her red motorbike. “It’s beginning to
look a lot like Christmas!”
Pris
watched me for a few seconds and then laughed—my face had betrayed my thoughts.
I’d had to bite my tongue to keep from saying,
“This
looks like Christmas?
You’ve
got to be kidding!”
To me, Christmas looks like
frost-covered evergreens, and snowflakes, and frozen puddles. Heavy coats,
scarves, mittens, boots. Runny noses. Sledding. Ice skating. Swags of cedar and
pine and holly tied with red ribbons.
I learned a lesson that parched
December day. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” means different
things to different people.
To most Lomalindians, especially
kids, Christmas looked like a bleached landscape, charred fields, hot wind, and
a whiff of ashes in the air. Folks enjoyed saying, “I’m dreaming of a black
Christmas.”
Christmas
in Lomalinda included singing carols around a bonfire. And setting off fireworks.
And cooling off in the lake.
And
it just wasn’t Christmas until Tom Branks sang “O Holy Night” accompanied by
his beloved Judy on the piano. (From Chapter
16, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir)
But,
of course, Christmas is so much more than gathering for carols, so much more
than sledding, ice skating, and swags of holly and cedar. So much more than a bleached
landscape, charred fields, and a hot wind.
A
couple of years ago, Scott Branks, a neighbor boy and former student of Dave’s
in Lomalinda, shared a story that came to mind upon hearing his favorite Christmas
song, “Christmas Dinner,” by Peter Paul and Mary. (Click on that link!)
Scott gave me permission to post his Christmas memory (from what I figure happened in 1972) about God’s desire for us to love others, even strangers.
Thanks, Scott,
for letting me share your story.
One of
the best Christmases I ever remember is when my father decided that rather than
getting Christmas gifts [for each other], we would make little wooden trucks
for the children of [nearby] Puerto Lleras.
It was
the year Jeremy was born the week before Christmas and Mom was pretty busy. Dad
was restless to do something, so we all got busy crafting those crazy trucks!
We
spent several days of our Christmas break sanding and painting the parts and
assembling the little wooden trucks for them. The trucks were all the primary
colors of the Colombian flag—red, blue and yellow. Super bright and fun!
Then
we drove into town and gave them to the children in the neighborhoods that we
knew. Probably the most meaningful Christmas gift I’ve ever received/given.
Now,
as an adult, I realize that my father and mother simply didn’t have any money
to buy gifts for the five of us [kids]. So, they decided to teach us the true
meaning of Christmas—giving. . . .
That
song [“Christmas Dinner,”] always reminds me of that wonderful year.
May we
all open our lives with deep hospitality
to
reach out to others in compassion, peace,
and
joy this season!
Our
world is in desperate need of such charity!
Thanks,
Scott, for sharing your story and heart with us!
The Branks family did what we all are
told to do: “Learn
to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the
fatherless; plead the case of the widow." (Isaiah 1:17)
They loved their poor neighbors by
their actions and in true caring. (1 John 3:17-18)
Our family was so blessed to have
the Branks for neighbors, friends, and role models.
