Today we took care. To decorate our Haitian home. Garlands and lights were hung, the tree was decorated, and away in a manger was belted as loud as we could manage.
I turned to Sadraque. I asked him if he had been a bon garson. I asked him is Santa Claus was bringing him anything special this year.
Jackie gave me a strange look.
'Wait, Haitians celebrate Christmas.. Children believe in Santa Claus right?'
'Well, it's more of a holiday for God...'
'Yes, but what about Santa Claus?!'
'We call him Tonton Noel.'
'Oh, ok, so it's the same.'
'No.'
'No?'
'It's a holiday about Jesus.'
'And Santa Claus?'
'But he doesn't bring them anything. He can't.'
Feeling strange, feeling sad.
That the Santa Claus I grew up with, well apparently his 'around the world journey' on Christmas Eve...it took a couple detours, say, around all the third world countries. No wonder he could pull it off...
Where was that in the fine print?
a palpable sadness.
Sad that I had assumed that everyone was able and blessed enough to shower their families with gifts on Christmas Day. And gifts brought by a reindeer wielding stranger, at that.
sad that I was SO preoccupied. So alarmed. So agitated and forlorn that the holiday only centered around God.
A holiday only for God?
Where was the Christmas spirit in that.
Which begs the questions, if you stripped away the lights and the trees. The parties and the fancy clothes. The carols and the traditions. The midnight mass dress.
The peace of the Lord be always with you. Where the lights dim and we light our candles. Where we sing silent night, holy night, and there is a low and constant warming in my chest. A brightness in my eyes. Where we put on our coats and kiss each other's wintry cheeks. And we walk out into the night. Joyful. Expectant. Abundantly filled.
But were we to wake up the next morning to just that, another morning. Jesus is born, hallelujah!
Under all that dressing, could I solely celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ?
And would it be enough.
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