Christmas Meditation

Stranded on Christmas Eve

Torrential rain produced terrible flooding and mudslides on December 24 in the Ifrane area. Over a foot of water rushed through the neighboring town of Azrou, knocking school children off their feet and into the water. We know of at least 6 accidents and 5 deaths that night. Before the police closed the road to Ifrane, several vehicles were filled with water as passengers escaped out the windows. Then a section of the road collapsed engulfing a truck with water and tipping it over.

Not knowing that all this was going on, we headed straight into the storm on our way back from the desert heading to Ifrane. Gerald, Ron, Daniel & Helen were two hours behind since they stopped to visit a village on the way. Below in regular type is my account of Christmas Eve 2009. In italics is Joseph’s account of the first Christmas Eve.

Christmas 2009

Family is coming to our home for Christmas Eve. I’ve planned everything and it will be perfect! There will be hot food at the end of our journey, a warm house, twinkling lights and a peaceful, joyful time together.

The Messiah is coming. Mary must have her baby here in our home. Everything will be perfect. Mary will be warm and comfortable – she and the child will have the best of care.

We’re running late. Dark is falling. My nephew Andrew needs to get to a doctor.

A census? We have to travel? Now? But Mary is about to deliver!

Ominous, jagged, black clouds lurking behind the mountains breathe out rumblings and flashes of light. Soon a waterfall of rain crashes right in front of us. Mist closes in. Wind threatens to blow us off the road. We crawl through the storm.

We leave Nazareth, jostled by other travelers. Mary’s face shows her fear as she looks to the long road ahead. Soldiers yell at us, hassling us for fun. We plod along, moving only between her pains, growing closer and closer together.

Evidence of recent mudslides appears on the road. An army truck hangs off the edge after nearly careening into the valley. Rocks cover the road. Rushing brown streams flow across our way as we gingerly bump along. The mudslides are getting worse. I’m not sure if I can cross any more.

Bandits attack a group ahead of us. We hide behind some rocks until it is over. Taking advantage of all the travelers, they are making a lot of money today. I’m afraid to continue, but I know we must.

Oncoming cars signal for us to turn around. They tell us the road is closed. Part of it has collapsed and a huge truck is engulfed by water. Surely the driver is dead. In the dark, rain, mud-stream and rocks, I turn our car away from home. Lord, do you even hear me? This is not how I planned Christmas Eve!

Finally we stumble into Bethlehem and begin knocking on doors. Seeing our state, those who answer despair in telling us that there is no room. We turn away to try another inn. God – is this how you want your son to be born? This is not how I planned the birth of the Messiah!

I call Rachida who lives a safe distance away. “Can we come to your home? Do you have any room?”

Finally an innkeeper opens his door and hurries us to the only space he has left . . . a little cave where the travelers have put up their animals. Not what I had planned, but we are relieved.

We arrive at Rachida’s home and are greeted warmly. “You are welcome! You are family! Stay as long as you need to!” they announce as though we have just arrived in time for a party. We sink into the Moroccan couches lining the room. The walls and ceiling above them are unable to contain the recent rain. Deciding to celebrate, we sing Christmas carols and break out the games.

Mary’s pains increase. I panic. There is no family to help. I’ve never delivered a baby before!

All of a sudden Andrew’s fever soars. His heart stops for a moment and he feels like he is dying – a mudslide of shock and stress engulfing his weakened body. None of us have a medical background and we are running out of medicine. He needs care immediately. Most of the roads out of town are blocked. We wait anxiously for the arrival of the rest of our family who started out later.

I run into the inn. Has anyone here delivered a baby? Someone help me! I return to the stable alone and afraid.

To our great relief, the rest of our family finally arrives. We call a nurse close by. She tells us not to go the hospital because they will assume Andrew has H1N1 and will quarantine him for a week. A few of us set out in the four-wheel drive on a deserted gravel forest road that will bypass the mudslide and river to pick her up and bring the nurse back.

Suddenly a warm, strong light pours into the stable enveloping us with peace. God is with us. The Messiah comes into the world safely. We gaze into his face in wonder. Surely the world stops spinning. We hold our breaths. We are swept away by love.

The nurse checks Andrew’s vitals. He is improving. We all breathe a sigh of relief and hug each other. We are safe. We are together. We have received amazing hospitality. Later we head home on a different, dark, steep, mud-swept road and fall into bed at 3:00 AM.

This is not how I planned the Messiah’s birth – travel, danger, fear.

This is not how I planned Christmas Eve – travel, danger, fear.

But all is well. He has come. He is with us. We are holding the promised one in our arms.

But all is well. God is with us. Close to us on the road and every step of the way.

I look up to find the source of the light and gasp at the beauty of the star shining above us.

The next morning we wake up to brilliant sunshine and message from Rachida – “Good Morning of Light to you” she says.

Yes, indeed, it is a morning of light.