(Snow machine courtesy of a local church Christmas spectacular.)
Australian Christmases are not white. They are green if it has been raining. Blue if you are at the beach. Brown if it has been hot and dry.
We moved here after five European Christmas celebrations, the last two in Sweden, what felt like the Christmas capital of the world. Our first December 25 in Melbourne was 40 degrees (104F), and we sat outside and fanned ourselves at my family Christmas of rice and curry. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel cozy and ambient and dark. It felt sweaty and sticky and way, way too bright. There was no crackling fire in front of which to warm ourselves. The air was fire. We wanted to hide indoors in front of an air conditioner.
It’s taken me three years to ignore the “lacking” ambiance in Australia. It’s taken a lifetime to distill this truth: God is everywhere. Celebrations are good for us. Feasting and traditions look different in every corner of the world, whether it’s cardamom or cumin, it’s all good. Jesus gets a birthday in Ghana, in Switzerland, in the North Pole, in Australia, in Samoa, in eternity. It doesn’t matter how or when or where. We get to celebrate. We get to be grateful. This is what matters.
How’s the last week before Christmas going for you? i want to hear 👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽!