A Yellow Christmas

Hard times can soften with age and become sweet, cherished memories. We were a young family living in a small West African country the Christmas the Gardener turned yellow. Times were unsettled in the country--both politically and economically. We were blessed to be able to take our truck every few months to a neighboring country to stock up on staples that we were unable to find on the empty grocery shelves in our adopted country. That privilege changed when the borders closed. Christmas was coming and our papa was very ill. When his skin turned yellow--almost green--I diagnosed him with hepatatis. He had a fairly rare reaction to the bile under his skin and it felt like fire with severe itching. We were low on food and most of our expatriot friends had left the city for the holidays. We set up our little tree, and that was when we made clothespin ornaments which still hang on our tree each Christmas. And that was when I learned to drink coffee to stay awake in the evenings so I could get things done.

It was a lonely and frightening time as I watched the pounds fall from the Gardener's tall frame. I longed for fruit juice to give him to drink--or meat ... The itching was almost unbearable for him. A hot bath followed by sitting under a fan helped, but we often had neither running water nor electricity. I'd sit up in the evening writing letters back home, reading, praying––often by candlelight––while the Gardener and our little boys slept. I found myself with no one but God to depend on. And I felt His presence so clearly I could almost touch it. He led me to comforting Scripture and filled us both with His peace, which is sometimes hard to comprehend, but it was there. And then there were the tangible evidence of His grace:

1. The first was when a Peace Corp friend knocked on our door before she left for Christmas. She put into my hand a piece of beef wrapped in tinfoil and tied with a red bow. Protein!

2. Another friend passing through our city brought us a bag of food from their pantry: cans of tuna, powdered FRUIT drink mix, and other staples.

3. A truck arrived at our door bringing two small barrels that had come by air from England. Friends who had recently lived in the country and now were home in England, heard of our plight and knew just what to purchase and send to us. Can you imagine our delight (and tears!) as we opened packages of rice, flour, sugar, granola, etc., clean and fresh-looking from the shelves of an English grocery?

4. House calls from the dean of the medical school nearby ... who came empty-handed but kept a watch on the Gardener.

Eventually he told us to go home and we did. It took the Gardener six months to recover from a severe case of Hepatitis A. The jaundice and itching lasted four months and it took him a long time to gain back the 60 pounds he lost. There are many more details to the story, but the key point to it all is that we never once doubted God's love and care for us, and we were amazed to see how He brought healing and provision in every way. The memories have become precious, and the yellow Christmas is probably our most favorite Christmas story.