Christmas Gifts

a Saturday Story

This week is a continuation from previous weeks. For context go back to the previous Saturday Stories.

“Are you here on holiday?” she asked. In her culture, “holiday” meant what we would call “vacation.”

“Yes,” I said, keeping it vague. “Something like that.”

“What brings you here? What are you hoping to see?”

Her curiosity was natural, but I tread carefully. Revealing too much could jeopardize us both. To protect our local colleagues, we operated with anonymity, knowing only pseudonyms. Mine was “Keith,” a name I borrowed from my father. “We enjoy learning about different cultures,” I said. “This trip has been fascinating.”

She leaned in with genuine interest. “How much time do Americans get for holidays?”

“Well, it varies,” I said. “But most people get about two weeks of vacation.”

“That’s all?” she asked, incredulous.

“Most jobs also allow time off for sickness or personal matters,” I added. “And there are national holidays when many people don’t work.”

She perked up. “Like what?”

I listed a few: New Year’s Day, Independence Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. At the mention of Christmas, her eyes lit up.

“I love Christmas!” she exclaimed.

“You do?” I asked, sharing in her excitement.

“Yes. My generation loves it. We exchange gifts—fruit, candy, little things like that—and have dinners. It’s a lot of fun.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said, hesitant to admit how extravagant Christmas could be in the States. “It seems we have something in common.”

Her expression grew more serious. “I love Christmas, but I don’t understand it. I don’t know why we celebrate it.”

My partner sighed, resigned to my inevitable response. “Do you mind if I tell you what Christmas is about?” I asked.

“I’d like that.”

I think about her sometimes, wondering where life has taken her. Did she come to know the Christ of Christmas? I also reflect on the timing of our trip, the hailstorm that led to us boarding a train instead of a bus as had been planned for weeks. And on that train a young woman curious about Christmas took a seat next to me. Was it mere coincidence—or divine orchestration?

Forgive me if I sound naïve, but I believe in a God who does such things.

a commuter train