In 1991, my husband, our three boys, and I were living in the city of Bratislava in post-communist Czechoslovakia. We were working in the new Christian school that we had helped to start. During the school's Christmas break, we looked forward to spending the holidays with my aunt and her family, who lived five hours away by bus.

All of us were excited at the possibility of a white Christmas, as my aunt's town was at the edge of a forested area, more reminiscent of our home back in Canada than of the city in which we were living. After a few months of new experiences and different ways of doing things, I was hopeful for a Christmas "just like the ones I used to know".

After a long day of travel, the reality was different. We were exhausted, and a dismal rain fell. The smell of the coal furnaces of that era hung in the air. The five of us squeezed into one room, with a tiny, damp bathroom across the hall. I couldn't even relax in the tub downstairs; a big carp swam there until it was needed for Christmas dinner. I hadn't had a chance to buy Christmas presents, and possibilities in the small town were limited.

The next morning, I prayed in desperation, "Help me, Lord. I feel so out of place here."

God's answer was swift. "Don't look at circumstances. You can be happy wherever you are. Nothing is the same as you're used to, anyway. Get the focus off yourself, and give of yourself to make others happy." I hadn't thought beyond my own feelings, but my holiday changed from that moment of revelation.

My aunt asked me to decorate. The doors looked festive with simple evergreen boughs, gold-sprayed apples on a ribbon, and real mistletoe. I washed dishes, and Terry mounted cup-hooks in my aunt's tiny kitchen. I managed to buy a few small gifts for the boys and their cousins.

As our foreign Christmas unfolded, we enjoyed the novelty of doing things in a different way. On Christmas Eve, the unveiling of the Christmas tree, the opening of presents, and the special carp dinner took place. One highlight was familiar — a walk up a small hill in the woods. The boys were ecstatic that snow had fallen after all, as they happily frolicked in it.

1 Corinthians 10:24 – Don't be concerned for your own good but for the good of others. (NLT)

I realized that the real Christmas isn't the presents, the atmosphere, or even the snow in the woods. The real Christmas is giving, just as God gave His only Son to be our Saviour.

These days, as our children have grown up, and circumstances vary from year to year, Christmas seems even less like the ones of my childhood. As I intentionally focus on serving others, however, instead of trying to capture the atmosphere, I'm living out the real meaning of Christmas. I invite you to do the same.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for showing us that the real meaning of Christmas is giving of ourselves for others. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.

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About the author:

Alice Burnett <terrencera.burnett@gmail.com>
Red Deer, Alberta, Canada
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