I have another Christmas memory that’s been on the forefront of my mind. I was hoping to post pictures with it, as I have them somewhere… but I’ll need to dig through my CDs to find them, and I don’t know if I’ll have time for that this close to Christmas. Perhaps during my week off I’ll have time to update it. In the meantime, I wanted to get the story out.
This one happened while on tour with the African Children’s Choir. I had been on tour with them for about a year and a half and was with my second choir. This group had been on tour for about five to six months. We were somewhere in Alabama, knee deep in fried chicken and all things southern. I was excited, because our next stop was Tallahassee, my home town, and I would be able to show off my kiddos to friends and family. I was in a host family with a single woman. She was sweet and so hospitable, as so many host families were. The first night we were with her, she fed us our obligatory snack, then asked if we minded if she went to bed, as she had already shown us where the bathroom and our bedrooms were. This might sound rude and not hospitable, but I always loved when host families did such things. After years of being doted on by so many, it was refreshing when they let us feel like we were just like family. Here’s the fridge, here’s the bathroom, help yourself, g’nite. I also enjoyed having alone time with my kids. That particular night, I sat with Winnie and Masika as we munched on potato chips or something of the sort. I remember having fun with them. As Winnie turned her head, I stole a potato chip. Masika giggled. Then, a minute later, Masika turned her head and I stole one of her chips. Winnie giggled. Both were ecstatic to be in on the private joke, having no idea they were also the butt of the same joke. I love kids.
The next evening, the host Auntie wanted to take us down the street to see some Christmas decorations. I was game, as I love looking at Christmas lights. The girls loved seeing all the bright lights in America and eagerly bundled up in their coats and gloves. We were accompanied by the host Auntie’s friend, a guy who I got along with immediately. He and I joked back and forth like we’d known each other for years.
We arrived at the house in question, and my jaw about dropped. This guy didn’t just cover his property in lights. No, he covered it in every cheesy Christmas collectible and animated figurine in existence. There were elves and snowmen and Santas. There was the dancing Santa who shook his hips. They were EVERYWHERE. I don’t think there was a square inch of his lawn left uncovered. My new friend stated, “Kind of makes all your ideas about Alabama come to life, doesn’t it?” I had to chuckle, as I thought of my stereotype of many Alabamans.
It was overkill, and I can’t imagine his electric bill. But it was entertaining to walk the length of his property and notice each little moving figurine. I wondered what happened when it rained, as most of the decorations seemed to be inside decorations. The girls were completely in awe and were pretty much speechless the entire time. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through their sweet little heads. My family is starving, and this guy can afford to cover his lawn in this crap? Honestly, I doubt that even approached their mind. They just enjoyed the decorations and smiled.
We got to the end of the property, and almost missed what was tucked back by the house, near the driveway. A plastic manger scene stood, the one with Mary, Joseph and Jesus that you see on so many lawns across America. I was about to walk right by it when the girls got really excited and pointed it out to me. “Look Auntie! It is Jesus!”
We walked back to the beginning and the girls asked if we could look at it all one more time. We decided one more lap would be fine. There was so much activity on their lawn we probably missed something the first go around. We leisurely walked his property again and the girls commented on more this time, laughing at the dancing Santa and listening to the cheesy music that played with some of the decorations. When we arrived by the manger scene again, the girls looked up at me wide eyed. “Auntie, may we get closer?” I hesitated, as the scene was close to their house and on their property. I’m a stickler for being respectful of people’s property. But those big, wide eyes won and I let them get closer. As they approached plastic Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus, they kneeled down to see them better. And they stayed there for a moment. In the midst of all the music, noise and bright lights of the surrounding decorations, they kneeled and admired the manger.
After a few moments, they broke away and we walked back to the house. I smiled as I was wowed yet again by the faith and love of my little kiddos.
