Shades of Christmas

“Go away! You don’t belong here.”

Bola braced herself against the cold wind and harsh words of the man in front of her as she watched him haul out her clothes and books, not even bothering to pack them into bags or suitcases. As the realization that the only real family she had left had thrown her out hit her, she wiped a lone tear from her cheek. “This will be the last time that I cry because of you.”

To be honest, it had been a tiring couple of years. After her mother’s betrayal, Bola had been subjected to her father’s mood swings and foul temper. When he was angry, he took it out on her. When he was upset, he took it out on her. When he was frustrated, he took it out on her. Now, after two years of violence and abuse, he was throwing her out of the only home she had ever known. On Christmas Eve.

Bola stopped trying to pick up her stuff. Of what use was any of it anyway? Why bother? Her mother had abandoned her, and now her father. Nobody had ever loved her and nobody ever would. A familiar crash sounded in the skies above her. Bola sighed as rain started to pour violently. This would be the worst Christmas ever. Why bother to stay through it?

“Are you still there? Do you have a death wish? I said leave my house”, thundered Bola’s father. “Leave! You’re the cause of all my misfortunes.”

Bola momentarily froze in horror as she watched her father approach her with a cutlass in his hands. As she briefly considered just staying and allowing herself to die by her father’s hands, she took one more look at his pathetic drunken figure and her mind changed with fierce resolution. No! She would never allow him the honour and satisfaction of ending her life. If anything, she would do it herself.

Bola broke from her reverie as she noticed the blade of the cutlass about to slash down on her. She swiftly rolled to the side and heaved herself up from the mud. With one last look at the man she had called father for 17 years, she ran into the darkness.

After trudging along for about two and a half hours, Bola was tired. She had been deprived of lunch and now, dinner seemed infeasible. She stopped, hunching down in a corner of the street; she had to rest.

Dare was done with it all. He was done fighting with everybody and then having to explain himself, especially to those that didn’t particularly care. He was done with having to apologize to people who didn’t deserve it. What was there to be sorry for, after all? Was it so bad to not want to become a doctor? Was that the only way to make it in life? Why then, did everyone think that was the only option for him? Why wouldn’t they let him be him? Now, after being advised to withdraw in his final year in medical school, he was the official black sheep of the family. The only son of his parents who couldn’t make them proud. Ugh! Feeling a headache coming on, Dare took another swig of his cigarette. Screw it all.

Maria surveyed her environment. There was a woman with a huge gash on her cheek dragging a worn suitcase. In the distance, there was a young man drawing on a cigarette. Wow! Was this what Christmas had come to? Where was the holiday cheer? The most upsetting thing was that people just passed by without sparing so much as a second glance to those who were so obviously in hurt. Suddenly, Maria noticed a small figure hunched down in a corner. It appeared to be a young girl. Really? On Christmas Eve?

Maria’s heart broke. Was this the same world that her Jesus so much loved and gave his life for? Love? Ha! The people she was looking at probably felt no love at that moment. They probably felt like the whole world was against them. They probably didn’t know just how special they were and the special purposes for which they were created. They probably hurt too much to see beyond that hurt. Oh, what can I do? It can’t be a mistake that I’m here. Since I’m right here right now, I might as well make it count.

Maria decided to start with the hunched youngster in the corner and approached Bola with unsure steps.

“Hi.”

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I don’t know what Christmas means to you. Perhaps it’s a time to get together with family and friends for lunch or dinner, perhaps it’s a time to exchange presents and possibly enlarge your wardrobe, perhaps it’s a time to analyze the best sales and max out your credit card, perhaps it means a long journey to your village or hometown to pay a visit to your ancestors, or perhaps for you it’s marked by nothing in particular. But what I do know is that this season of love doesn’t necessarily speak love for a lot of people; too many, if you ask me. Or maybe it speaks of another kind of love; the kind that isn’t patient or kind, the kind that is rude and seeks self, the kind that brings nothing but pain and doubt and destruction.

Another thing I know for sure is that we’re not where we are for no reason. Since you’re where you are at the time that you are, how about using it as an opportunity to make a difference? How about letting someone know how much they mean to God? How about reminding them of the great gift of true love that this season symbolizes?

• “I am giving you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, so you too are to love one another. By this everyone will know that you are My disciples, if you have love and unselfish concern for one another.”- John 13:34-35 (AMP)

• "Beloved, if God so loved us [in this incredible way], we also ought to love one another."- 1 John 4:11 (AMP)