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It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas, lights and trees are decorating homes, special festivities are being planned to celebrate Christ’s birth and for many of us we look forward to building memories of Christmas with family and friends.

Reaching into my ‘memory box’ of Christmas’, one particular Christmas is etched into my memory. It was my third Christmas away from Canada and I was living in the tropical country of Papua New Guinea. The words ‘hot’ and ‘humid’ were often part of my vocabulary describing Christmas, ‘snow’ and ‘ice’ had long since been removed from my Christmas descriptive language. In this hot, humid climate, I would often catch myself smiling as my music played the familiar words of “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”

One particular Christmas in Papua New Guinea stands out in my memories because of the unsuspecting gift that I received. I had been invited to spend Christmas in the village with friends who were Corps Officers. Village living in Papua New Guinea is ‘rustic’, and ‘primitive.’ Cooking over open fires, hauling water for a daily scrub or for washing dishes is very common, as is, telling stories by candlelight or hurricane lamps.

As it was my third year in the country I knew what to expect when I arrived in the village for Christmas. I knew that the ‘material abundance’ which we experience in Canada would not exist. Yet, it still caught me off guard. Entering my friend’s home, there was one decorative Christmas red streamer, one chair, one table, and in a bedroom, one bed – which I was given because I was a guest.

Over the weekend we told stories of Christmas past, my memories in Canada to some degree I downplayed as I realized how materialistic extravagant my Christmas’ in Canada had been. My friends spoke of memories of Christmas extravagance which were associated with family gatherings and joining with others in the community to celebrate Christ’s birth.

On Christmas morning our breakfast of dry crackers and tea was humbling. A subtle reminder to me of the humble dwellings that Jesus Christ was born in, dwellings void of extravagant materialism, yet, filled with the extravagance of the King of Kings whose birthday we had joined together to celebrate.

Leaving the village after Christmas, I packed new memories into my memory box and realized that the material gifts I had given my friends and their children could not compare to the extravagant gift they had subtle given to me…. an opportunity to experience humbly on his birthday the presence of the King of Kings.