Christmas in Africa: What will you take to the manger? - Part 2

"Although the mall is noticeably absent of big spenders, there are some lovely decorations adding to the spirit of the season – at least until you take out a camera or phone to capture a photo. We were with some friends there and I was holding a darling little black girl and pointing out her reflection in a bright red ornament on a Christmas tree. She was pointing and laughing with delight so I tried to get a photo of her happy reflection in the bulb. In a moment, a security guard was at our side saying that no pictures were allowed to be taken of the Christmas tree. “No Christmas spirit here,” I said under my breath. We walked away without argument. We never resist directions from security guards because some have machine guns, rifles and handguns. As the baby and I sadly walked away from the tree, she quickly refocused on choking me with my necklace. Little ones are so quick to move on and forget past disappointments. How much more like them we should be!

One of our most touching moments of the season came on a Sunday when a young boy at church read a well-known poem. Although I have heard and read the favorite verse many times, I have never heard it quite the heartfelt way it was expressed from the handcrafted pulpit in a small church built with trailer modules. A boy with a short, thick carpet of black hair, huge searching eyes and glimmering white teeth filling up a broad smile looked eager to share his message. He had a clean white shirt that had a crease across the cuff as if some attempt had been made at pressing it. The rest of his wardrobe looked like it had been retrieved from a donation bag. We couldn’t see if he had shoes on or not. He approached the pulpit tentatively and then spoke in a reverent tone with a pronounced Zulu/South African accent these heartfelt words from “In the Bleak Midwinter” by Christina Rosetti 1872.

“What can I give Him, Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him: Give my heart.

Our hearts were full of gratitude. Our eyes were full of tears. We pondered the humble gifts that the shepherds may have brought to the manger as perhaps the first invited guests to welcome and worship the Christ-child. Though poor, they, too, brought something. They had been surprised and overcome with the heavenly host (which may have included some or all of us) singing God's praises. They rushed to see "this thing that has happened that the Lord has made known to us". They left the stable "glorifying and praising God for all they had seen and heard." May we be as generous as the little drummer boy in the poem and give Him our hearts." - Sister Basso