The little, red-roofed cottage that hung on our family Christmas tree was not in my things. My heart sank. Had I sold it with the rest of my things before I left Burkina Faso?
One day when I was looking for something in the attic, I discovered a small box of Christmas ornaments. There it was! The tiny, red-roofed cottage, wrapped carefully in tissue paper. Why was this simple, unassuming little house so special? When I was young, my mother told me that this was her favorite ornament. She would save the little cottage until last, finding the best spot on the tree for it.
Growing up, I carried on the tradition. With Bing Crosby crooning “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas” on the record player, I would find the perfect spot to nestle the little cottage.
The little house was special to me because it was special to my mom. She was the warm center of our home, who made everything right in my little world. Now the ornament sits nestled on my own little tiny tree.
My first Christmas in Burkina Faso was spent in the village of Obiré with my colleagues, the Showalters and Gloria Scott. Christmas Eve, the local church gathered for a ‘veillez’ (an all-nighter). In the cool night air, under the stars, there was singing in the local language interspersed with skits and lots of laughter. My favorite moment was when a young man appeared, arms stretched out in front of him, holding two flashlights like headlights. “Who’s he?” I whispered to Gloria. “I think that’s the angel Gabriel.”
Christmas day, we sat on benches under trees, warmed by the winter sun (80 F), and feasted on rice and meat, dished up in large metal basins. These are great memories. And yet, it just didn’t feel like Christmas.
Someone once said to me, “It must be nice to not have all the trappings of the holidays so that that you can focus on the real meaning of Christmas.” I smiled, but thought to myself, “I miss the trappings… the Christmas lights, pageants, beautiful music, crisp night air, caroling, etc.
Over the years, in Burkina Faso old traditions and new ones intermingled. One of my favorite old/new traditions was on Christmas eve at my church in Ouagadougou. Around midnight, the worship team led the congregation in “Douce nuit, sainte nuit” (Silent night, Holy night). As the sanctuary lights were turned down, candles were lit, the little flames moving from person to person down each aisle.
As the powerful, Burkinabe voices swelled into a crescendo, the darkened sanctuary began to glow with a warm, red light. I was unable to continue playing as the beauty of that moment took my breath away.
I’m thankful that God has created a world full of vivid color, pageantry, and flashlight toting angel Gabriel’s. I’ve enjoyed the brilliance of multi-color Kansas sunsets and the subtle beauty of burnt orange African ones. And I’m thankful for tangible things, like little, red-roofed cottages that warm our hearts as they remind us of those dear to us.
Our Creator used tangible things, like stars, and extravagant gifts, and real strips of cloth, and a feeding trough in a warm and welcoming Jewish home* to reveal Himself to us. The hope, that was a promise, became a tangible reality. God wrapped Himself in humanity – for us.
What are some of your favorite traditions? And Why?
*Kenneth Bailey in “Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes”
Wow, Mary, you are not only an artist with music but with words as well!!!
I remember our friend Gabriel, the flashlight-toting angel. He now has kids in their 20’s and he is as faithful to his Saviour as when he played in that drama.
May the Lord bless you and provide for you in this next chapter.
Yes! Wonderful memories. Kids in their 20’s. And faithfully following. Really wonderful!