Season of Christ

19 Dec Season of Christ

Christmastime is near and dear to my heart – raised as a Muslim, married into a Jewish family, and parenting three spiritual beings – heart. During the hottest days of the summer when temperatures top triple digits in our area and swimming under the desert sun is even unbearable, Damon will often come home to Christmas music resonating from our kitchen while I prepare supper. On some days when there is no rest for my weary soul, I call upon Jesus as well as all my other deities, but His name is uttered from my lips most often, asking for guidance, love, and a sanctuary to rest my heart. It’s a season I carry all year long, reminding me of the best in me, the best in you, the best in us.

Deep in the winter of Chicago, amongst snow banks higher than myself, and winter clothes that were donated by older cousins, I trudged through the sidewalk that led me to the brick structure that was McKinley Elementary School. If you have never lived in a cold climate, it is a sheer test of will power that gets people out of a toasty bed to schlep to work or school. There is an entire process of digging cars out of the snow and defrosting them. Thankfully, being a seven year old in elementary school, cars were not part of my job description.

The adventure begins at home and continues when you arrive to school. There are the layers of clothes that must be worn so you don’t get frostbite (please relieve your bladder before that last layer gets zipped!). Arriving at school, an entire three section cubby is awaiting you: top shelf for gloves, mittens, caps, facemask (we were not trying to rob a bank but we did look like 2 foot tall thugs.); the middle, long area designated for coats, jackets, sweaters, and tall, snow boots; the bottom portion was for an extra set of sneakers and socks which were kept at school to wear.

If you were blessed with monetary access each cubby area was full. For most at school, it was common for a section or two to be empty, possibly even all three sections holding nothing but the truth: That the clothes on your back were all you had to keep you warm during the harsh season. During the winter, once at school, you were inside all day.

“…the truth: That the clothes on your back were all you had to keep you warm during the harsh season.”

During the holidays, our grade level teachers corralled us into the library for a special movie. My kindergarten year was a blur having just arrived in America from Pakistan. My six year old self was trying to adjust to the environment, people, culture, and the dramatic upheaval that plucked me off of my Daada’s sprawling estate with orchards, animals, servants, nannies, and caretakers to the bitter cold of Chicago in a home intended for one family but accommodating 20 relatives.

During my first grade year, Mrs. Sharp (over 37 years later, I can recall every elementary teachers’ name with clarity because they were my saviors), kept me close to her side as we traversed the stairs to the second story where the library was housed. The books greeted me as I walked in: vibrant colors or plain black and white, some facing out, some peeking behind their friends, worn jacket covers showcasing the love of certain authors, earmarked pages reminders of past visitors, and the smell. Oh, the smell of a library is intoxicating! If knowledge could have a fragrance it would be the library, and I would douse myself in its riches.

This time, the library was dark, tables and chairs pushed to the side so we could sit on the carpet. Once we all were settled in, the hum of the projector started as the film was clicked into place. “Frosty the Snowman” came on the screen. For the next 30 minutes I was frozen just like Frosty had been. This winter could turn out magical after all!

Frosty and I last snow season.

From that day on, the snow, cold, frost and weather held endless possibilities. My eyes shifted from the dirty snow banks to the iridescent icicles, that held onto the tree branches and awnings, determined to beat the sun in the race to survive. Each snowflake held infinite shapes and once caught on the tip of my tongue descended into nothing even if I kept my tongue out to keep my new friend from melting. It melted into magic that radiated from me; the magic of a season called Christmas.

“Let us notice one another.”

This time of year people celebrate the love they have for a Savior and His refugee family asking for nothing more but a roof over their heads to protect their most vulnerable gift. His story is not much different from so many around us today who ask to be noticed, treated with dignity, and helped in their moment of need by those around with compassion and kindness. Let us notice one another. Let us turn away from the screen in our hand and turn towards the soul within. Let us shelter the weary wanderer by acknowledging her, making eye contact and saying hello. Let us carry the magic of this season all year long – in our hearts. Hallelujah!