A Bar of Soap – For Christmas???

A Bar of Soap – For Christmas???

By Andy Oldham

Since it is CHRISTmas, I thought I would write about all the Christmases I have enjoyed through the years. Wait! I can’t do that! There are seventy-two of them. Whoa, how many? You’ve gotta be kidding. No wonder the grandkids call me an old fossil. Okay, okay, I will choose just one to share with you. Sit back down and turn your computer back on. Whew!

When I was a child we were fortunate to live in a modest home in Baton Rouge, LA. Dad worked for the NATB (National Automobile Theft Bureau). We were not rich by any measure yet we were not as poor as some folks. We always had a great Christmas morning with several presents for each of us. Some we asked for and some were a nice surprise. There were even presents that had riddles on them. We had to guess what they were before we could open them.

Years later, feeling God’s call into the ministry, Dad gave up the job he loved and stepped out on faith to pastor a small country church in Tickfaw, LA. It was the beginning of a fulfilled life in God’s will.

Several years later, he accepted the call to the mission field. In 1961 we were honored to live in British Guiana (now Guyana), South America.  There are many stories I would love tell of those years, like the time we were in the jungle and chased tropical fish, in our underwear, through he streams and creeks. Afterward, We then trekked through the jungle, with the locals chuckling at our underwear that we had draped over our shoulders on a pole to dry. Yes, we did have our clothes on.

Sorry, for getting so far off track. I’ll try not to do it again. Now that I have you back in your chair I am going to tell you of my favorite Christmas story, one that changed my life.

The mission home was a two story concrete home. We lived upstairs and the business of the mission was carried out down stairs. The week of Christmas was exciting. I was twelve and not yet old enough to participate in youth functions. Since the Christmas party was held downstairs in a large classroom, I was invited to participate. About twenty-five young people arrived and were excited about the evening. Each brought a present with the name of the person they had drawn at the previous monthly meeting. There were none for me, or my two brothers; we were simply excited about being there for the games and food.

As the activities and fellowship began to wind down, the time arrived for the more serious business of opening of gifts. I was eager to see what everyone was going to give each other. Each person took their seat in wooden folding chairs, formed in a circle around a small Christmas tree draped in only a few ornaments, as the were hard to find in Guyana.

The first name was announced. The next name would not be called until this one had opened their present, while everyone watched, and then thanked whoever gave it to them. The paper was painstakingly pulled off so as not to tear it.

What are they doing? I thought to myself. Just rip it off!

A Tooth Brush????? She got up and walked over to the man who had given it to her and gave him a great big hug and sat down crying. The paper was folded nicely and placed in her purse.

I was confused. I thought this was Christmas!

The next name was called. Paper was unwrapped slowly, folded with care and placed in a brown paper bag.

What???  Three bars of soap??? The gift exchange continued…

A Comb??? You are kidding me, right?

Not a hair brush, too???

Come on, where is the fun stuff???  I am totally confused now???

This, is not Christmas!

No! A two pack of toilet paper??? Paleeze!!!

You’ve got to be kidding me! Please tell me you are?

 I watched toiletry after toiletry given out to each other. The recipients were excited and appreciative. Me? I couldn’t believe it. I was thankful my name was not on the list.

That night, after the Christmas party was over, what I had seen was still lingering in questions I could not understand. Why did these people give such meaningless gifts? I went to Mama and asked. She smiled and said, “Andy, the people are extremely poor here. They can’t afford luxuries and fun things. For them, a new toothbrush or shoe polish, or even toilet paper is an exciting gift for them. It is something they need and possibly cannot afford. The people giving the gifts sacrificed a lot to to be able to buy a gift.

I was ashamed. I felt small and guilty. I hadn’t thought of Christmas that way. I went to bed that night thinking how happy these people were to receive a gift they needed, not one that was a choice, or a wish. The gifts were things they needed to live a comfortable life. Each expressed a thankful heart through shedding tears as excited-joy poured down their cheeks. The giver sacrificed much to be able to give, and the one receiving was blessed by the others sacrifice.

At the age of twelve, I was awakened, by this experience, to the true meaning of God’s gift on the first Christmas morning. Through God’s sacrifice of His Son, we can receive salvation. What a gift! His mercy and grace is available to all who will receive this sacrifice.

The Christ child was NOT born to bring us things that are frivolous. He came to bring us those things that are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:18)

So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:18)

My gift for you this Christmas, dear reader, is this lesson. God tells us it is better to give than to receive. To give is a great gift in itself. When one sacrifices to give, he is blessed beyond all measure. God gave us His gift through the sacrifice of His Son on that first Christmas morning. What a wonderful gift it is! Did you know this Gift is still available?

Seek God’s gift today!

Merry CHRISTmas Everyone!

Andy Oldham is the founder and co-creator of Christian Grandfather Magazine. He received his B.A. in religious studies and education from Anderson University. He has served as pastor to senior adults, and fills pulpits when needed. Andy taught memoir classes at the local library and after writing his personal memoirs, wrote Everlasting Cronies, a story of growing up in rural Louisiana. His inspirational column in the Northside Sun Newspaper was well received by his community. A poem, Winters Grace has been honored first place in category by the Mississippi Poetry Society. He and his wife, Barbara, have six grandchildren and enjoy retirement in Mississippi.

Feature Photo by Free-Images