Stories: My Favorite Christmas
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| I remember my first Christmas away from home on my mission. Being homesick and with a companion that I didnt get along with very well.
A sister that we used to visit invited us to her home for Christmas Eve. Hers was one of many appointments we had that evening but it's the one that I remember as my favorite Christmas ever.
We walked the mile or so to her home in the dark up the side of a slippery muddy trail to the little home where she lived with several children and grandchildren.
There were no presents, stockings or Christmas tree. Just a little hut made of mud and sticks with a grass roof of sorts. There were only two short, crudely made stools to sit on over the dirt floor. Over in the corner at the other end of the room was a small hearth with a pot of something simmering over glowing coals. The little room was hazy with smoke you could see in the candle-light.
As we entered the two small stools were offered to us. The seats of honor. Sister Angelina Ical greeted us with her usual smile and heavily Pokomchi accented Spanish. She couldn't read but loved to hear us sing hymns. We sang all of the carols we knew in the hymn book, some more than once and talked with her about the birth of Christ. The Spirit of Christmas filled that little home and all feelings of homesickness went away.
After the singing she gave us our Christmas present, a little cup of cocoa boiled in water and a sweet roll. This had to be a great sacrifice for her family. I remember eating that little roll and cup of cocoa while hungry little eyes watched me. I hoped there would be enough for them all when we left.
As we left she wished us a happy Christmas and we thanked her for her hospitality and walked down the mountain in silence. The stars seemed to shine a little brighter and I was at peace.
Sister Angelina had given me the greatest give I could have received that Christmas, Charity, the true love of Christ. One that will be with me forever as a cherished memory that brings tears to my eyes or a lump to my throat every time I think of it. |
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