Back in 2000 a teaching opportunity opened up for my father in Washington. However, it was not a simple position to accept. We were Canadians, living in Ontario, and the school was not only across the continent but in another country. There was no time to waste either because the school year was already underway. So, my parents, brother and I hastily uprooted our lives, threw some of our earthly possessions into a U-Haul, loaded up our car with necessities for the road, and our pets; a dog named Sasha and our cat, Caesar.
To say we were bewildered and out of our element when we landed on the pastor’s doorstep would be an understatement. The Christian school my father would be teaching at had some affiliation with the pastor of a church in a neighboring town and we were able to live temporarily in the missionary apartment in the church (we quickly found a house to rent not too far away).
It was November when we began our time in Washington, and Christmas came about swiftly. We had pooled what resources we had into a move, so going back home for the holiday was not an option. Being in a new country, a new house, away from our loved ones, out of our element, still reeling from the sudden changes and all the goodbyes, we could have had a miserable Christmas that year.
This was not the case, though. We were blessed time and again by families who welcomed us with open arms into their homes. One of the elementary teachers from the school invited us all to join her and her extended family for a party. We were encouraged to participate in all of their traditions alongside them, which included a prize for the person who found the almond hidden in their rice pudding. I happened to find an almond and since they had run out of white elephant gifts to pick from, they apologetically presented me with a loaf of homemade banana bread. I didn’t mind one bit. My family and I thoroughly enjoyed that banana bread!
Not only did this family take us in, but yet another family from our church had us join them and their brood for a Christmas celebration. They got each of gifts of a mug with a different flavor of hot cocoa for each of us. I have held onto that angel mug to remind me of the kindness that exists in the world, like that of this family who not only brought us into their home but made us feel like family. There was a tradition involving the boys and an ornament, which I cannot entirely recall, but I do remember my brother was included and that it was a very sweet gesture.
All of this would have been more than enough, but one of the Sunday school teachers from our church showed up on Christmas Eve bearing gifts for my brother and I. We each got an Old Navy fleece, which were really warm!
The love poured out on our family that year helped ease the ache for home. I cannot really remember the names, nor the faces that well. Details of the parties are growing blurry. The warmth of the memories remains, though. I doubt any of the people I mentioned thought in the moment that their kindness would be warming the heart of a young woman seventeen years later. Never underestimate the impact your open-arms welcome can have on those you welcome in.
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