A Christmas Story

I can still see it.

 

Last year in mid December, Brian and I were gearing up for our looonnnnggg trip back from Kenya.

 

We were standing in the Nairobi airport with the group from Good Shepherd that we had just spent the past 11 days with.  Luggage packed and ready, check.  Last minute bathroom stop, check.  Water to drink before boarding the plane, check. 

 

Last minute browsing, eh - not interested.  Just get me home!  I wanted desperately to see my children - it had been a long (but very satisfying 11 days) away from home and the kids.  And Christmas.  Mmm.  Christmas.  It has got to be one of my favorite times of the year!  I knew that back home Christmas music would be playing on the radio. Christmas decorations would be up and lighting up the neighborhood with all those beautiful icicle lights.  Presents, if not wrapped and under the tree, would at least be purchased or thought about.  I love the Christmas season!  I sure did miss that slow and gradual Christmas prep time I had been used to.  By the time we would arrive home, we would be down to 2 weeks before Christmas!

 

It didn't "feel" like Christmas in Kenya. We were in short sleeves, soaking in the warm weather the day we were preparing to leave.  Christmas decorations could be found, but mostly in the areas influenced by American or other western cultures.  When we shopped at the market in Nakuru, I asked a vendor if anyone had a nativity scene.  I took him some time to locate one!  We didn't really talk about Christmas with the local people.  I am sure they celebrated Christmas.  But I am guessing their celebrations center around what Christmas really is about - Jesus.

 

As we waited to enter the gate for our flight, all of a sudden, a group of African people descended upon us.  I guess not really on us, but the gate.  A line.  Mostly women, some teens, younger children and a few babies tied to their mommas backs.  I don't remember seeing any men.  They were all dressed in matching uniforms.  They had initials written on their uniforms.  I guessed that maybe they were a singing group.  You know, like the African childrens choir,  going somewhere on tour.  That was a very uneducated guess.  I was very curious, and in my limited Swahili, I asked one of the teenage boys, where they were going.  Strangely, he averted his gaze, and pretended as if he did not understand me. 

 

A few minutes later, a gentlemen assisting the group came through to the head of the line.  Someone must have asked him about them.  His response I will never forget.  Refugees from Burundi.  They are the lucky ones.

 

Refugees.  Heading to the US.  The lucky ones?  What happened to the others?  Who would help these people readjust to a new culture?

 

Suddenly, my mind is reeling.  Here I am, anticipating reuniting with my family.  Excited about the cushy, nonessential things of Christmas.  And them?  There will most likely be no reuniting with family.  They are leaving there home, never to return.  That nice warm weather - that is familiar to them?  We are returning to winter in the States!  To temperatures they have never experienced before.

 

Needless to say, on that long flight home, I had a lot to think about, and it wasn't just my kids.  God gave me some priceless gifts last Christmas.

1. A new way of looking at things. 
2. A huge dose of gratefulness for the home that I have and the beautiful family I am privileged to be a part of. 
3. An incredible amount of compassion for refugees living in the US.   

One day this summer, I was taking a walk.  My kids were with a friend, splashing in the creek, waiting for me to return from my walk.  As I neared the place where the children were playing, I passed a piece of trash, crumpled on the ground.  "Pick it up."  What? Why?  A tiny piece of trash? That's a little crazy isn't it?  "Pick it up." Come on, you want me to pick up a piece of trash?  I don't think so.  I kept walking.  But it was one of those times when I knew I had to stop, turn around and do it.  Anything less would have been disobedience.  I figured there must have been something written on it, you know, some "message" from God.  Disappointedly, I didn't find anything.  But I started walking back to the kids again, with this piece of trash in my hands.  When I came upon the next piece of trash, I didn't argue and picked it up.  I did grumble though, thinking, if I knew I was going to be picking up trash, I would have brought a bag along to put it in! 

 

Do you know what the very next thing was that I found.  Uh huh.  A clear, clean plastic bag.  By the time I reached the kids, I had filled that bag and another, with trash.  I felt kind of foolish - carrying trash.  But I explained to my friend what happened.  As we walked back to her house, through the woods, she found a plastic Walmart bag and began picking up trash too!  I think she had three bags full!

 

My message from God was not written on that first piece of trash, but in his provision for me as I obeyed Him by doing something I didn't understand.  I felt like one piece of trash was not worth picking up.  In the whole scheme of things, there is trash everywhere.  My step of obedience, not only eliminated 2 bags of trash along my walking path, but inspired another person to follow my lead, doubling my efforts!  I had been reading about Mother Theresa shortly before that.  That woman never allowed herself to get bogged down by the multitudes.  She made it a point to help the person in front of her.  And she inspired others to do the same. 

 

Don't be deceived.  Each seemingly insignificant step God is asking you to take - could be just the beginning of  a move of God in your life!  You never will know the impact your obedience will have!

 

One step for me, is to tell their story.  I sure wish I knew where those refugees have gone.  It is my prayer that God has been their everpresent help in time of trouble this year.  When they think of home in Africa, with great longing, I pray that God would comfort them, like noone else can.  And I pray for me and my family.  I pray that we will never forget them and others like them.  I pray that God would keep our hearts sensitive to the needs of others - around the world, and around our neighborhoods. 

 

My encouragement to you is:  Don't be bogged down by the enormous sea of need!   We have to keep perspective!  We have to look at the faces and opportunities in front of us!  The Going Global party is a perfect opportunity to share your heart for the world, with your children.  Think of it - one action pack, in the whole scope of things, may seem like nothing!  But, when you start thinking like that, remember my piece of trash!  God is in the multiplication business, people!

 

You don't have to go to Kenya to touch lives.  The world is coming to us.  A part of  Burundi is here in the States.  A part of Burundi, is here - in my heart.  Funny, I went to Kenya, and came home with Burundi.