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“We hadn’t spent Christmas with my mother in over eight years,” I shared with a few “global” friends during our International Christmas dinner. “Until two years ago . . . and what a precious gift that was.”
For more than twenty years, our family has been living abroad, either in Africa or Europe. We would return to the United States every other summer for six weeks, frantically trying to see all of our dear family and friends spread out across the country. Sometimes, we would manage to schedule and “hit” the 4th of July celebration with family members or an occasional summer birthday (mine!).
However, we could never make it “home” for the holidays—the Christmas holidays. There’s just something really special about being “home” for Christmas.
“Home” for Thanksgiving Too!
We even had the joy of spending Thanksgiving that year with my mother in the Midwest. Our family drove sixteen hours in one day, and it was so worth it! None of us could recall when we had last spent Thanksgiving together. It could well have been over fifteen years ago!
Before arriving at my mother’s house for that special Thanksgiving holiday, she asked me what we wanted for the feast. She suggested “ordering in” our turkey dinner—less work, less clean-up, less food, less expense.
“No, I want it all!” I exclaimed. “I want to make the full-blown dinner together—whole roasted turkey with stuffing, honey ham, mashed potatoes, Grandma Esther’s creamed corn casserole, pumpkin pie . . .”
Don’t Want to Miss a Thing!
The list went on and on, and I didn’t miss a single traditional family food item. That’s just it—I didn’t want to miss a thing!
I didn’t want to miss any part of this traditional American holiday that I had been deprived of for so many years.
I also wanted time together with my family . . . slaving in the kitchen—still in our warm fleece pajamas—getting the “bird” prepped in the wee morning hours of Thanksgiving day.
Even though my mother didn’t want it, I longed for the hard work, the messy clean-up, and the yummy turkey and ham left-overs for an entire week. I wanted it all, and I got it all—much to my mother’s dismay!
Two years ago was our first Christmas in the United States with family in over eight years. We had the joy of being with the entire family . . . sisters, brothers, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Last year’s Christmas with our American family made it two years in a row. What a gift that was!
Welcome—”Home” for the Holidays
Just a few nights before writing this, our family had started to receive the gift of being “home” for the holidays. Along with hundreds of other families and friends from around the world, we waited impatiently—with great longing and anticipation—at the #15 “International Arrivals” door of the Washington Dulles International Airport in Washington DC.
“Welcome Home” balloons, colorful bouquets of fresh flowers, handmade poster board signs, and lots of smiles awaited the weary travelers scuffling through the sliding glass doors.
You could see the physical exhaustion on their faces and in their slow-moving bodies as they pushed their overloaded carts through the crowds like a herd of cattle. Most had traveled many hours—some even days—rushing through international airports to catch multiple flights, dragging overweight suitcases . . . just to come “home.”
At this time of year, only a week before Christmas, most people were coming “home for the holidays.”
We watched as tired facial expressions quickly changed into beaming smiles, as the lonely, sole passengers would suddenly spot the familiar faces of their waiting family and friends in the dense crowd. There was anticipation, longing, laughter, tears, and long embraces.
Our Sons—”Home” for the Holidays
After forty-five very long minutes of watching every passenger, every sweet reunion, every opening of the glass doors, we saw him! It was our son, Robert, arriving from England—our son that we hadn’t seen in over four months. What a joy to hold him in our arms again.
He was finally “home” . . . “home for the holidays.”
Just a few days later, we would do the same thing again, as we would drive back to Washington D.C. to pick up our oldest son, Timothee, arriving from Germany.
When the family tribe was finally complete, we would make the long-haul road trip back to Missouri to enjoy Christmas with “Nana.”
Oh, did I mention that Pierre was born on Christmas Eve?! Spending Christmas with family for the past two years also meant celebrating this little boy’s 5th and 6th birthdays together—a
We’re Going “Home” For the Holidays!
All along the sixteen-hour road trip, our family joyfully sang along with Perry Como . . .
“Oh, there’s no place like home for the holidays,
‘Cause no matter how far away you roam,
If you want to be happy in a million ways,
For the holidays you can’t beat home sweet home!”
I was blessed to be “home” in America for two years to celebrate the holidays and to have my family on the same continent. Now, once again, we are back in Europe—on the other side of the Atlantic. Only God knows where we will be next year—and the years after.
—The Cultural Story-Weaver
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Let’s Weave Cultures!
Have you ever been away from “home” for the holidays for a long time? If you finally had the opportunity to go “home” for Christmas, what was that like? How did you and your family feel at that moment of
We invite you to tell us your own cultural stories and global adventures . . . as you engage with the world, breaking down barriers, building bridges, and “weaving cultures!” Write about them in the comment box below.
