It wasn’t my husband’s nor my idea to spend Christmas in the Bahamas last year, but the kids somehow talked us into it.
“Mom. Dad. We need to make memories while you’re still healthy.” It wasn’t as if we were gasping for our next breaths.
“If we’re going to travel anyway, we might as well be somewhere warm.” They had a point. Our little North Dakota town is difficult to get to when winter weather results in chaos trying to juggle flights and drives. One year, my daughter had to change her return flight three times.
We caved. The Bahamas it would be.
The closer the time came, the more we grumbled. We were going to miss being in our church on Christmas Eve. Miss seeing people “home” for the holidays. Miss our fireplace. Miss home cooking. The list went on. But, we had tickets and were too committed to back out.
There was a bit of airport chaos upon arrival. But, we all made it and went to our respective rooms.
I packed a string of multi-colored mini-lights and safety pins to hang them on the corners of the drapery. The staff who came into our room were delighted with my decorations.
“You brought the holidays with you!”
I sure did. I set out the nativity set I brought along and the extra suitcase full of gifts. I had made a Bahamas Christmas rule: No gifts! But, grandmas are allowed to break the rules they make.
We spent the next two days doing warm-weather activities. One morning, the kids came from the pool screaming two little kids with BUCKETS were throwing water on them!
One afternoon, Circe and I walked quite a distance to find the snow cone stand she spotted earlier. When we got there, the young man at the stand recited the flavors. Circe whispered to me, “Strawberry.”
“Say it a little louder,” I coaxed. I looked at the young man and said, “I’m trying to teach her to speak for herself.”
“Strawberry,” she said, not much louder than before.
The young man made her snow cone and handed it to her. I held out my resort key to pay. He held up his hand, smiled and said, “It’s on me. Merry Christmas.”
It was such a different atmosphere from a North Dakota Christmas. Soon, it was Christmas Eve and I was determined we would spend a bit of our time remembering the reason we were celebrating. But first, we found out Santa was going to be in the hotel lobby, and Circe had never seen Santa before. We made a detour to find him.
There was a line and the closer Circe got to the front, the shyer she got. In her little girl, sparkly red, not very high heels, she inched toward Santa’s chair.
Santa leaned toward her and asked, “Are you 4 years old?” (We have no idea how he knew that.)
She nodded.
“It’s SO good to meet you. I have been waiting to meet you since you’ve been born,” Santa said, holding out an arm.
Circe climbed onto his lap.
“What would you like for Christmas?” Santa asked.
“Colors.”
“You have always been SO creative. I love that,” Santa said, marveling at her request.
By now, Circe was grinning. She jumped off Santa’s lap and we went to dinner.
I told this Santa story to Simone, age 13. As the story unfolded, her mouth opened further and further. Awestruck at the conversation, Simone practically whispered, “Maybe he is the real Santa.”
It had been such a warm, magical exchange, I found myself agreeing. Maybe he was.
When we got back to the hotel, I took a couple minutes to ready our room. I plugged in the mini-lights, moved the nativity set to the middle of the dresser, then surrounded the room with a couple dozen LED candles. It wasn’t our North Dakota living room with a fire in the fireplace, but the room had a coziness.
I had found a kid-friendly reading of the nativity story. While I read it aloud, the kids used the figures to act out the story. Then, in keeping with our church tradition, I put “Silent Night” on the speaker I had brought along. Just as we started singing, Axel said, “We learned how to sign this at school.” So, as we softly sang, Axel did his best to remember the sign language. Then, as is our tradition, we sang a verse in German, too.
After a chorus of “Joy to the World,” it was time to open the Christmas gifts I wasn’t supposed to bring. No one complained.
It wasn’t the Christmas of tradition. But being together. Laughing together. Seeing Santa. Acting out the nativity story. Singing “Silent Night” together. There was something a little bit magical and a lot bit holy about this very different Christmas. I learned Christmas will find you no matter where in the world you are.
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Roxanne (Roxy) Henke hopes this season you get to see a little magic in Santa and feel a lot of holy in Christmas. You can contact her at roxannehenke@gmail.com.
