"She gave birth to her first child, a son. She
wrapped him snugly in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, because
there was no lodging available for them." (Luke 2:7 NLT)
Christmases at my maternal grandparent's home
in Vance, SC, were different, but just as memorable.
My mother's parents would have been considered
upper middle class by modern standards. When my grandfather died, he had
a sizable sum saved. One I considered wealthy. My grandfather also owned
several hundred acres of farmland and wooded areas.
But their lifestyles didn't reflect the money
they had or possessions they owned. My grandfather's only farm implement
was a small red tractor. What he couldn't do with it, he paid someone
else to do--which was almost everything except plowing and planting.
Their home was an old farmhouse with no central heat or air. Neither
ever owned a new vehicle while my grandfather was alive. Overhead lights
consisted of one bulb dangling from a wire that drooped low enough for
us to reach to turn it on and off. Their furniture was modest, except
for a few finer pieces reserved for company and which were nestled in
the "front room." They never hired professionals to make home repairs.
Rather, my grandfather called handymen--more handy than skilled--to mend
broken items.
And it was to such an environment that we made
our way on Christmas day. The experience was quite different from the
one at my other grandparents' home. Rather than bulging with presents as
the tree did there, the tree at these grandparents' house stood almost
alone with just a few gifts snuggled underneath.
Some of the presents were used, and others I
saw no use for. I often wondered whether they put any thought into what
they gave or just went through the motions because we expected it. While
I enjoyed the food and seeing my relatives, the presents didn't tweak
the enthusiasm of a young lad with a less than proper understanding of
Christmas.
Later in life, I reflected. This grandmother
spent her entire day in the kitchen, and Christmas was no exception. She
cooked and served while everyone else ate--occasionally not even sitting
down until everyone was stuffed and sleepy. And their mindset about
presents was starkly different. They seemed to know there were more
important things to experience than giving and receiving gifts that
would be used only for a brief time.
These grandparents cherished togetherness.
They knew something I hadn't ascertained yet. What they gave me was
never what I hoped for, but perhaps it was more important than what they
could have afforded to buy.
Our meals and gift opening were often preceded
or followed by the men and boys trekking through our grandfather's
wooded land on hunting expeditions. Deer, squirrel, rabbit, quail, dove.
It didn't matter. We hunted it all, bringing back the smaller quarry and
escorting them to a small area on the floor next to the solitary gas
heater standing guard over the kitchen.
Though I was sometimes disappointed with this
different kind of Christmas, in many ways it was more important than
others I experienced elsewhere. God's gift and His view of Christmas
also disappointed many of the religionists of the day. So poor were
Jesus' parents that a manger was His first home and strips of cloth His
first garment. No fanfare over His birth. No parades. No welcoming
gifts. No heralding bugles. Just a dark damp stable and a few shepherd
visitors.
No doubt, Jesus was a different kind of
Messiah who arrived on a different type of Christmas, and because of it,
many chose not to believe in Him or accept His offer of salvation. But
He was God's kind of Christmas gift. Not wrapped in beautiful bows and
fancy paper, but a Savior nevertheless. The type of gift that gives
presently and eternally.
Martin
Wiles
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