Here is another response to my e-mail reflecting on this season. It was sent to me by retired missionary to Bolivia, Paul Steward.
Tim. Thanks for your email and we are looking forward to next week. This Christmas story I wrote a long time ago and used it in a Prayer Letter in the 1960s I think. Also it was printed in the CALL. I was reminded of it when thinking about Christmas and our missionaries away from family, etc. It sort of put things in prospective. Paul
DECEMBER 25 — BEFORE AND AFTER
The little house with its discolored mud walls and broken tile roof was in the shade of a tall palm tree with a few banana plants growing nearby. The few small windows were without screen or glass while the door stood open. The scraggy chickens freely made their way in and out looking for a few crumbs under the table. Don Jose and his family were seated together for the meal as darkness began to creep over the village and green tropical countryside. Don Jose was still nearly drunk from the fiesta the night before. His wife had tried to make a meal of rice, some bananas from their yard and one small egg for each of the children. Drink and tobacco were taking all that Jose earned on he days when he was sober enough to work so they were always in
need of food. His wife did not care any more if she cooked or not but for the sake of the children she tried to do her best. Medicine for her was out of the question and the few herbs she had tried did not avail to remove the ever-present pain of a treatable medical problem.
Deep sadness and despair showed on the face of their 17-year-old daughter as she sat considering her future and the coming new year. What more could she look forward to than the same unhappy and hopeless life her mother had known, but she knew of nothing better. The eldest boy was in hiding because he had stolen things to buy drink as he followed in the footsteps of his father at a young age. The younger children were as happy as they could be in their ignorance of anything better. Christmas to them was an opportunity to hear the music of the fiestas and maybe a little extra to eat on that day. Their ragged clothing, so torn and dirty, did not allow them to go to the big church on the hill even for this most special day of the year.
********************** (A year later)
The little house looked about the same. There were some patches where new mud had been filled in and a weak coat of whitewash had been applied. The tree still whispered gently in the evening breeze overhead and the banana leaves rippled softly nearby. There were more plants growing now and even the few chickens looked better and gave more eggs. Inside things were about the same as far as material things were concerned. The evening meal consisted this year of some meat in with the rice, some fruit, and even a little piece of sweet bread for the children and coffee for the older ones.
The great change that was so noticeable was in the people. Don Jose, his head and shoulders held upright as a proud husband and father, took his place at the head of the table. His wife, who’s hands still showed the daily hard work of the home, was able to sit and relax as she felt no pain and to be proud of her family. Their clothing was not the best but it was clean and well patched. The daughter was a radiant picture of joy and hope for the future. The eldest son was seated beside his father and showed in his face that he was proud to be a member of the family. The little ones were seated in expectation of the meal after which their father would read to them.
Mother placed the BOOK in Don Jose’s hands and he found the place and started to read. “Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the King…” The Christmas story finished, all heads were reverently bowed in prayer as Don Jose began to pray. “Our Father in heaven, we thank Thee for ever sending the missionaries to our village and to our home. We are so grateful for the many who gave and who prayed that the missionaries could come with the BIBLE and the Message of Thy love. We thank Thee as we remember the night we bowed in prayer asking forgiveness for our sins and for strength and help in dark days of persecution and deep trouble. How thankful we are that we have found Salvation through Thy Son Jesus Christ who was born so long ago in Bethlehem. We are so grateful and we thank Thee …
I wrote this in 1962 or perhaps a bit later. We used it in a prayer letter sometime after that. Paul Steward
