The Season for Giving

What does Christmas mean to you? For me it has progressively changed from the excitement as a child, to the mad rush as a wife and mother...and now I'm so aware of the hurting this joyous season. I'm surrounded by them in the church, in my workplace and everywhere I go. People who are alone, or who have hurtful memories this season, or who battle depression.

How can I tell? You can see it in their eyes; the gleam is missing, the smile is forced and the loneliness lies bare for all to see. I recently cleaned out my closet of stuff and took a long winter coat I had used 2 years ago that was still in good condition to my friend who makes her home outside a large bookstore in downtown Toronto. Because I frequent this bookstore, I have chatted with her and eventually shared Christ with her, but that didn't make as much of an impact as when I gave her this coat. Her eyes welled up with tears and as we hugged I wished her a Merry Christmas and the joy of the Lord as her strength.

I tell you, giving her that coat probably gave me more joy than she knew, and as I cried all the way back to my office, I knew that this is what Christmas is really all about - GIVING. So give somebody your time, your stuff, your smile, your word of encouragement.....spread the joy this season. That is what Jesus would do.

Have a wonderful and giving-filled holiday!

Eleven Days to Christmas

I'm writing this with a box of tissue by my side as I'm at home with a bad cold. We haven't yet had our first major snowfall here in Toronto, and Naomi my 10-year old daughter is already panicking that we won't have a "white Christmas"!

I remember growing up in Lagos, we never had snow of course, and the Christmas season consisted of preparing to make the long drive down east to the village to visit with grandparents and extended family; or staying back in the then capital city with family and friends. It was as exciting as excitement was then, we had no computer games but a good game of scrabble or monopoly was as good as it got!

Dad would buy a goat and tie it up in the back of the house; we would continuously peer at the goat and oftentimes threatened to drag our frightened youngest brother, Oge, to the goat if he wouldn't give us some of the candy that Mom had given to him as her 'last born'.....ahhh! the good old days...

Of course, my children have no clue what I'm rambling on about when I tell these stories and as for killing a goat you had as a pet and eating goat meat for Christmas, Naomi considers it inhuman and gross. So here I am, eleven days till Christmas, with a temperature outside of 9C, which is above seasonal, remembering when life was much simpler and easier.