Saturday was already a full day with OneHouse Carols that evening, so we woke up early (a theme for this holiday season; and our lives?) and headed back out to finish Christmas gifts.
Thankfully we were able to find everyone and had lots of fun. This was probably our most specialized year, and a bit less equal. We really tried to find gifts that fit each person, and a little bit of how well we knew them. It made it so much more fun to purchase, pack, and deliver!
The rest of Saturday was full getting ready for OneHouse that evening. Stephen helped The Reinforcers get the equipment all set up, while I sorted a meal for the band, cookies for the community & visitors, candles all around the house, and last minute gift shopping.
Oh, and I ran to the store and lost the card for my motorbike, so I spent an hour sitting at the security desk to get my motorbike back 🙄
But OneHouse was so lovely and completely worth it. Stephen had half the songs available in both Karen & Burmese, and after a number of issues finding a Burmese singer, our friend NuNu stepped in on Saturday and sang in Burmese!
It was really beautiful. The candles, of course; the Christmas carols. But also the sound of voices singing together. I was surrounded by kids from our neighborhood, as well as mothers, singing together in Burmese. Our church family surrounded us, too, with kid’s voices and British accents; young old. It was really amazing to see everyone singing together, collectively trying to prevent a fire.
One of my favorite moments this Christmas.
Every year a new song resonates with me. (And I write about it apparently! 2012, 2104) This year, as I sat surrounded by some of my neighbors, we sang Go Tell It On The Mountain.
This might be one of my least favorite Christmas songs, partially because it always seems to be sung with a twang. It gives me visions of people on horses and Santa hats; it just doesn’t fit Christmas for me. But, alas, we sang:
Go tell it on the mountain
Over the hills and everywhere
Go tell it on the mountain
That Jesus Christ is born
This is what we had gotten up early every day this week for, and gone to bed late for. This is what we wrapped hundreds of gifts for. This is what we cooked hundreds of meals for. This is what we serve breakfast for every day before school. This is what we bake bread for and deliver flowers for and sew things for. This is what we run sound for and go to church for and study language for. This is what we live in this hot little town for, a million miles away from our families that are cozied up by a fire together. This is what we have hard conversations for and wrestle with our faith for.
This is what just keep trying for.
In that moment, surrounded by women from our community that I love as sisters now, holding a little girl asleep in my arms that I love exponentially, watching my husband do his life so well–it felt worth it in that moment. Like we were doing what we were supposed to do this holiday season: we went, and we told it a million times over bowls of fish soup and story times and Christmas bingo. And ultimately, over mountains chaos, we shouted it.
It doesn’t always feel worth it. But in that moment, it did. And that made it one of my favorite days over this holiday season.
After worshiping together and watching our candles burn to nothing, we shared a collection of cookies our friends had brought with them. Kid were stuffing their hands full and coming back for more, and it was adorable. Everything is adorable by candlelight. (And maybe when they aren’t your kids with the sugar high?)