Perfectly Wrong Christmas

 

FAT Group Christmas party

 

So excited to get a bike playing "dirty Santa" 

 

Crazy games at a kids' Christmas party in Calabuanan 

 

A sweet performance they put together for the party

 

This little diva didn't want to leave my side during the party

 

Kathleen won the game for "who knows the most Bible verses". Talk about a proud moment :) 

 

We were also invited to the youth party. They were challenged to share the message of Jesus. 

 

One light lit many others; just as they can when they share the Good News 

 

Christmas Day waves

 

Tropical tree

 

Our sweet friends and neighbors who we celebrated with 

The title of this post and the pictures that follow don't seem to match up. I mean, the pictures look happy and fun. What could've been so wrong? Well nothing really, except my perception. Sometimes I think holidays are a missionary's worst enemy. But the aftermath, in my experience, is usually growth and beautiful refinement. I remember the days leading up to Christmas last year being so hard. It was our first Christmas together but our first Christmas away from home and family. I struggled a lot. But the 24th and 25th were truly enjoyable and I was able to celebrate the birth of King Jesus. This year was different. The days leading up to this most wonderful holiday were so good for Josh and me. They were full of peace, joy, and anticipation. They were full of parties and a vacation. And then came Christmas Eve with all of its woes. Nothing really bad actually happened (except I stepped on an old rusty tack that cut my pregnant foot), but in my head so many things were wrong. We spent the morning skyping some of our family members, which was special, but left me sitting on our bed crying. I really miss them and miss the traditions from home. I just felt lonely; like we're on the other side of the world missing out somehow. Missing out on cold weather and grandparents' cooking, family time and Christmas breakfast, blah blah blah. I forgot to recognize that even if we were in the States Christmas would be different than I ever remembered, now that we're married. But I couldn't see any farther than my own misery. We got out of the house for a while- bought some things to give to our neighbors for Christmas and some stocking stuffers for the two of us- and went to 'simbang gabi', a church service for Christmas Eve. Though both of those outings were enjoyable, when we got back home I found myself in the same sad state.
But God..(two of the most beautiful words in the Bible)..but God didn't allow me to steal His worship on such a holiday. He didn't leave me in my pitiful state. Sure, I spent the first part of the night crying. Crying out to God and crying to my husband about the things I missed. But as the words left my lips, a miracle happened. The Lord took all of those selfish things. I began to be thankful for Josh and the two Christmases we've spent together in this foreign land that really isn't so foreign anymore. I became thankful for the traditions here that not many Americans get to experience. I grew so thankful for the friends who invited us to their family's 'noche buena' (Christmas Eve midnight celebration). And suddenly the cold and biscuits for breakfast became less important; less desirable even. Of course we still missed our families, but we praised God for them and for the family He's given us here. And out of the praise in our hearts for Him, we celebrated. I felt joy. I felt gladness. I felt peace. And the 25th was better than I deserved. We slept in and we prayed together and read the Christmas story. We listened to a poem from the innkeeper's perspective of Jesus being born. It really brought new perspective to the already magnificent birth. (By the way, I could write an entirely different blog about the emotions and reflections that I've experienced this Christmas season as a pregnant mother awaiting her child's birth. Whew.) We went to lunch on the beach with our neighbors and friends. We opened gifts my mom had sent us and we cooked breakfast for supper and played monopoly until bedtime. And in the midst of all of that we were able to reflect upon and savor a righteous King who entered this world by the most humble of births to redeem His people. Hallelujah. I can't imagine how 'perfectly wrong' that first Christmas must have been for Mary and Joseph, for the innkeeper, for the Isrealites. Praise God He enters into our messy lives and makes all things new. I am humbled by the blessing of my perfectly wrong Christmas.