Topic: Christmas
Normally, I like to have plans made in advance. Especially at Christmas. Always have except for one year.
That was the year we started out the door, only to met by two other missionary families who were about to knock on our door. To sit at our table for Christmas dinner. While we were thinking that we'd agreed to go to one of their houses!!
Not to worry. It wasn't the first time they'd been to my house when everything wasn't ready for company. It didn't matter that the floors weren't spic and span. Or that I'd left dishes in the sink from making whatever I was taking to to contribute to the feast. (Maybe potato salad. I don't remember.)
Fortunately, we had the meal planned, complete with assignments for each of us to round out a dinner as American as could be assembled in central Africa.
"Give me fifteen minutes," I pleaded. "The tablecloths aren't ironed, and I refuse to put anyone at my table for Christmas without at least a tablecloth.
If I'd known they were coming to my place, I would have spent a couple of days getting ready. Same would have been true for Judy, the lady I thought was to be the hostess.
It reminded me that many things we do for the holidays do not matter one iota. In the end, who really cares?
That Christmas was more fun than the potato salad year. A little cooler, too, fortunately.
