As a little kid I had only one hero, my father. Nothings has really changed but I do look up to others and consider them my role models. My mother is my mother and there is no better title than that just like my wife is my wife my savior is my savior; nothing can compare to the title and the mantel they carry and no veil can block me from seeing them the way I do. But my father with his title and all was to me the most influential example of love, earthly sacrifice, selfless, humility and heroic figure in my child hood. This virtues where even more vibrant in the Christmas of 93.
As I recall, my father was saving money for traveling expenses to flight to Florida. There he would meet with my uncle, grandfather and other cousins. He was to stay there for some time as he saved money for our very own family trip and what would eventually become the land of our new home. Little did we know that just under two-year after the Christmas of 93 we would see the sacrifice and savings and patience flourish in the stream of the ‘American Dream’. Vain was not a part of our vocabulary.
This particular Christmas with future goals and plans at hand, my father made a choice, we were not going to have a regular Christmas full of gifts and toys that any other a six-year-old boys with two other brothers may want. We were not even going to have the wonderful smell of a pine tree that aromatic the house with the smell of the season. We could not afford if we wanted to anyways, regardless my father got creative, he needed too since him and my mother had just given life to my younger sister.
I must say we were probably one of the very few who even regarded the usual American tradition in our small town of Barranquilla, Colombia. Regardless of what our traditions were, this particular year was going to lack all the bells and whistle of the Christmas season, that is until my father decided to take apart a broom, make mush with some cement he borrowed along with an empty bucked my aunts drill and some old hangers.
The outcome was the most majestic and creative Christmas tree I had even seen. The bucket was filled with cement, in the middle he placed the broomstick. He drilled simultaneous holes through the broomstick and through the holes he added the old metal hangers… A Christmas tree… We then got want ever we had from previous Christmases and began to decorate my fathers creation. We had fun, the spirit of the Lord was felt. We truly had more with each other than we would have had with gift, then again we were each others gift.
That had been the most memorable Christmas for me and also one of the most humbles and I sure that is the case for my brother since his birthday is on Christmas day. Christmas is very special to us because of that alone and the fact that we celebrate the birth of our savior in top of that makes Christmas my favorite holiday.
since 93 we have had Christmas trees of all sizes both fake and real but I don’t think and any of them brought us as much joy and as much meaning to Christmas as the humble made up tree that my father created. I brought meaning because it brought us closer than we were, it emphasis the meaning of family, of Christ. He was born in the most humblest of circumstances teaching us before we were even born.
From the father we came and to the Father we ugh to return. How unique it is to read that shepherds where there at his birth and yet he became the head shepherd. They were there gathered together to see Him come to life only so that he would later gather us all through he Atoning sacrifice. Born to humble parents who had nothing, nothing yet others gather to witness the birth of the savior and as the witness him and his poor family he then became the witness of the father and because he was the fathers we knew that he was.