I recently wrote this Opinion piece for the Salem News, a brilliant local paper here on the Northshore, and since I've been feeling the guilt of a less-than-faithful blogger - especially compared to my sister (thanks Beks) - I thought I would reprieve myself a little by publishing something I've already written.
So even without the
hot weather I’m accustomed to and though I cannot go swimming with my cousins,
Christmases away from Zimbabwe are not necessarily Christmases away from home
because I seem to have found families all over the place.
I learnt who Bing Crosby was in
2005, during my first Christmas in America. Crosby’s Colgate-commercial smile
and rich, deep voice floated out from my grandparents’ television as he sang, “I’ll
be Home for Christmas.” My family had come from Zimbabwe to live in New Jersey
for 10 months and I’d seen my first snow 30 days earlier on Thanksgiving
morning. It was quite a change from the sunny, 70-degree December-weather I was
used to. In Zimbabwe we don’t get snow and Christmas isn’t white, it’s wet. As
children we always hoped for a rain-free day so we could go swimming with our
cousins. Even now, grown up, living in Massachusetts and having experienced my
share of New-England winters, it still feels surreal to be wrapped in sweaters
and blankets, sipping tea and watching the white-coated world outside.
My feelings about Christmas are
not the same as they were five years ago. For most of my life this holiday evolved
around family, home and Jesus. December was a time of warm weather, stockings
at the end of my bed, mince pies with cream, special church services and, of
course, a huge family gathering of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. But
our last few Christmases have seen dwindling numbers back home; Grampa is no
longer with us and the cousins have been dispersed through several countries
and colleges.
Christmas has changed. I’ve
changed.
I’m starting to see an ironic
twist in the carol “I’ll be Home for Christmas.” The song was first released by
Crosby in 1943 during World War II and it touched the hearts of soldiers and
their families who were separated by the war. At that time everyone was hopeful
that the end was in sight and all could go home. Today, with over 200,000
American military personnel currently deployed in foreign countries as of last
June (according to the Department of Defense), many American families feel the
same way.
However, it is not only soldiers
that are separated from their families this December. About three percent of
the world’s population – over 200 million people – currently lives outside
their birth country, according to the United Nations Department of Economic and
Social Affairs. Some of that three percent are international students (like me)
studying far from home, staying on the campuses of colleges like Gordon, Salem
State and Endicott. Others are fathers, brothers, daughters and mothers working
in foreign countries worldwide to send money back to their families. We all
won’t be home for Christmas.
I have discovered, however, that
some of the things I miss most about Zimbabwe at Christmas can be found on the
other side of the world too, right here at Gordon College. Family, home and
Jesus are everywhere. I have been invited, welcomed and temporarily adopted by several
faculty and staff members of the college. I have also discovered an eclectic family
of internationals, students from Korea, the United Kingdom, Kenya and other places
who, like me, are strangers in America and living at Gordon we have been able
to find a home here, together. Most importantly, I have found people who have a
similar heart for Jesus, who understand why December is so special to me.
