I think one of the greatest fears for my parents who raised their children overseas was that their kids would miss out on life back here in the states. They feared we would miss out on strong relationships by not living near grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Around holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter that fear was heightened and so I think they may have overcompensated a bit. Not in the magnitude of gifts given, but in the traditions they created for our family, and the traditions we participated in within our community. My mom and her friend Danielle threw an immense Christmas tea. My parents gave us tree ornaments that in someway represented things we had done, or seen, or places we had traveled, or our life in the Middle East that year. We caroled with our youth group at peoples houses. We had dinner with other families before or after the Christmas eve service, depending on what time it was. My mom cooked an immense amount of cookies. We read Christmas books. We had the visitor from the north. I even wrote him a letter about how to break in through the sliding door since our houses didn't have chimneys. This morning at church my pastor was talking about the Lottie Moon fund which supports foreign missionaries, and for which the southern baptist convention collects funds during December. I couldn't help but think about the annual Dorcas bizarre and chili cook off put on by the women of the fellowship I grew up in. Because we lived in a country where Christmas decorations and such were pretty much not available, the women spent most of the year meeting weekly to craft their own. They used everything and anything imaginable, from beautiful fabrics and laces to paperclips and the metal tops of frozen juice concentrate cans.
I was reminded of the hours of time my mother and her friends spent crafting as I decorated my tree this afternoon. As I placed ornaments on the tree, I thought of specific women who created various items, I thought about the time they had spent on those things, which ultimately raised funds for missions in places like India, thousands and thousands of dollars, and I thought about the time those women spent on me, teaching me things like a love for God's Word, His Work, and His people. I was reminded of the anticipation that built as the sale grew closer, and the men started to organize their contribution, the chili and cornbread dinner. I remembered helping my mom and her friends frantically finish pricing items as women lined up outside to come into the sale. It was our own small scale version of black friday. I thought about the Thanksgiving and Christmas mornings after Desert Storm, when we would stand in the "cold" waiting for the 3 or 4 service men we would have in our home for my mom's unbelievable roast and the fun it was to take those members of the US military to the beach. I remember showing some of them the ocean for the first time in their lives. I remember the first time I went to a mall at Christmas time here in the States. I was 15, it was an overwhelming experience. Yes we may have missed out on crazy shopping frenzy, and mall traffic. We may have missed out on snow. I never spent a holiday with my paternal grandfather, ever, before he died, maybe the 1 thing I wish could have been different. But I am grateful, for the experiences and memories we did have. And I am grateful that every year I can pull out my Christmas decorations, and put names, faces, and memories to so many people who helped shape me. Thanks
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