I have very warm memories of Christmas past. As a child I wasn’t aware of my parents’ poverty. Dad pastored a small Saskatchewan church that provided little compensation. Our house was uninsulated with a dugout dirt basement. In winter we were always cold. And food was never plentiful. But I never heard complaints or poverty talk from Mom and Dad. Rather they chose to be upbeat and thankful. I would often overhear their prayers of praise to God.
Our humble church Christmas services impacted me deeply. Even as a preschooler I embraced the message of a baby in a manger who had come to bring us salvation. At five years of age I committed myself to him.
The carols, the skinny Christmas trees, the inexpensive gifts, but mostly the love in our home made the season “bright”. I loved it then and I love it now.
