Free For the Love of Christmas by Jeanne Bice Page B

village came to visit; we don’t think we should show up to dinner with five extra people.”
    â€œBring them! We have plenty of food. Harry and I were just wishing there was someone else to invite.”
    â€œWonderful. The Kuna family told us they wanted to see how Americans celebrate one of their ­festivals.”
    â€œSince we plan to exchange gifts this evening, I’ll do some quick shopping for them,” I offered.
    After Brian gave me the rundown on the family, I told Harry about the change in plans and headed for the store. It was a small grocery, but it also carried a selection of dry goods and miscellaneous supplies.
    I quickly chose a set of towels for the mother and a new machete for the dad. I knew barrettes and a couple of small dolls would delight the little girls, and I selected small shirts for the baby boy. Some fruit-flavored hard candies completed our gifts to them. I hurried home and finished wrapping just as the first guests arrived.
    We began our celebration with dinner. Because we knew they, like many people, would be tentative about trying new foods, we explained to them that the baked ham was like macho monte, a wild pig they eat. They took large portions. They recognized rice and the pineapple and coconut salad and added them to their plates. They all turned down the Jell-O though; when they saw it wiggling, we couldn’t convince them it wasn’t alive. However, we had no trouble enticing them to try our dulces (sweet desserts). They even came back for seconds.
    English, Spanish, and Kuna swirled around as we sought to communicate across cultures in whichever languages we knew. Although the dad spoke some Spanish, the Kuna family spoke no English. It helped that the Simmons spoke fluent Kuna because the rest of us knew Spanish but only a smattering of Kuna.
    As I considered our language situation, I wondered what we should do about reading the Christmas story. Though progress was being made, there was not yet a printed version of the New Testament in the dialect of the village where our visitors lived.
    â€œBrian, can you translate as the Christmas story is read and the children act it out?” I asked.
    â€œYes. It will be a great way to show the reason for our celebration,” he replied.
    I dressed the American children in bathrobes, sheets, and towels. The three kings wore cardboard crowns and the shepherd carried a stuffed toy lamb. We gave the Kuna children front-row seats for the play. Tom Horvat read the account of the Savior’s birth in English, pausing a verse at a time while Brian translated. We watched as our children mimed the familiar scenes on a makeshift stage.
    â€œAnd the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not,’” Tom read, “‘for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.’”
    I looked at the faces of our unexpected guests. Their eyes filled with wonder as the story of the Lord’s birth unfolded before them. I realized that I was seeing a fulfillment of the scripture: a Kuna family—miles and centuries removed from Bethlehem—was hearing, in their own language, the good tidings. They were the “all people” of which the angel spoke. I felt blessed that on Christmas Eve I was seeing that promise fulfilled.
    When we reached the end of the story, Brian prayed in Kuna, giving thanks for the gift of the Christ Child and for the presents we were about to exchange. As towels and machetes, barrettes and dolls were opened, it was easy to see that the language of gifts is the same in any culture. Ours said I want to be your friend.
    The unexpected gift of our multicultural celebration that year, and the years that followed when our Kuna friends returned again, are among my most treasured Christmas memories.
    I now celebrate Christmas in the United States, but I still mix the traditional with the tropical. My tree is trimmed with glass balls and plastic snowflakes, Choco