My Christmas Blog

That was Christmas of 1997 I believe. On the left is me standing dressed in the matching top and bottom African style clothing next to my father. Christmas outfits had to be exceptional, and you must admit, I look spiffy. Behind me is a girl I do not remember, and to the right of me is my father, Anthony holding my cousin Elorm. Next to him is my aunt, Claudia and then my sister Sheila. Behind Sheila is my cousin Paschal. Seated around the bowl from the left is my cousins Worlako then another girl named Sheila (we called her Little Sheila in Ewe,) then Cecilia, and lastly another boy whose name I do not recall. Not like the average Christmas celebration in America, but this is how the reconciliation of God and men was remembered in Ghana. But there are some similarities, it is celebrated with family. I do not remember a lot of things from my childhood in Africa but this day I can recall very vividly. I want to take this blog to share with you that special Christmas celebration day in Ghana, and what it meant to me then and now.

It was like any other Christmas celebration day in the previous years. Any other day, I woke up to the sound of cars dashing through the streets and to the roar of the people yelling from the streets going about the way. This morning was different. Christmas morning was always different. You didn't hear the rush of the world. It was almost silent. But you knew there were those loud conversations going on within the houses. This is something we could all probably relate to. As any other seven year old waking up on Christmas morning, I did not slowly rise up, but jumped up out of bed ready to begin the festivities of the day. My sisters and cousin had already woken up and were helping my mother begin preparing the food for the day and my father was with some men in my family picking a goat from the herd to sacrifice (no, just kidding) to kill for the meals.Throughout the day, many people would stop by our house to share a meal. I rose up out of bed at the exact time before my mother sent my sister and cousin to the store to buy some tomatoes (it seems there is always one store open everywhere on Christmas day to help the people that forget to buy stuff). So I tagged along with Sheila and my cousin Gloria to the market to buy some tomatoes. As we walked outside the gates of our house, we noticed that there was not a single person on the streets because of the day. It was uncommon but we knew that it was because of the holy day that we saw no one. If it was any other day, I would have been a pest to my sisters, but this day we walked harmoniously to the store and back with no difficulty. As soon as we entered the gate of our house, my father and the other men shouted my name to come and join them. When I approached them, I saw the goat beside my father (still alive) looking as if she knew her day had come. I had never been part of the goat-killing, it was very manly! There were three men, my father and his good friend, and my uncle Francis. They killed the goat as I watched, skinned it, cut it into pieces, and then gave it to the women to prepare for the meals.There was a special ritual that mostly the men participated in after the goat-killing, and if you're that interested I would be glad to inform you about it later but I end the story about the goat here. After witnessing that event, I took a shower (bucket shower, of course) and my sister Sheila and I joined my cousins at their house as we went from one family members house to the next eating and enjoying each others company. The picture that you see was taken in our big family house where my grandmother and other family members lived. As you see, we were sharing a bowl of rice together before whoever took this picture interrupted us.

Fast forward into the future. I must confess that when our family  moved to the United States, there was a feeling of jealousy and almost bitterness in my heart towards my peers and the celebration of Christmas in America. During the Christmas season, one question that I was tired of hearing and had to repeatedly answer was "what are you getting for Christmas?" For a while, I hated that question because that was not the celebration that I knew of and it was something that my friends who were so enthralled in getting gifts could not understand. I am not saying that the giving or getting gifts is bad! If you look back at the picture, you will see that the little girl sitting on my father's lap is carrying a toy gun. That was my gun that my mother gave me that day, and I still have memories of nostalgic joy and enthusiasm when I think about my mommy calling me into our living room that day and presenting it to me. We got gifts in Africa too! What I am saying is that I thought our celebration of Christmas was insignificant  because it lacked me receiving the latest toys and gadgets. What my surrounding told me was that somehow Christmas was incomplete without unwrapping gifts on the holy day. I am not bitter any more, (I would gladly accept any gifts) nor am I jealous anymore. And it is not because I have compromised into the culture, but because I realized that Christmas is much more than that. I have already unwrapped my two gifts from my father this year. Our celebration now consists of how it has always been in the past since our move from Ghana twelve years ago, which is church, eating with the family and friends, and laughter. Whatever way we are celebrating the day, we are grateful for what God has done. Gifts or without gifts, we know the day is complete not because of our merits or traditions but because of our compassionate heavenly father. Our house is still decorated in lights and we will still sing Christmas carols together and go to church on Christmas day. But we do know what is most important. God, the everlasting Father has come in Christ Jesus to reconcile and restore creation to its intended order. We still feel compelled to tell everyone we know about the good news of Jesus Christ. In the midst of all that is thrown at you this Christmas season about what is important, remember this, God has come to dwell and reconcile  men. Ponder on that. Merry Christmas!