The extra plate

I suppose my vision of Christmas was typical of many six years olds growing up.  I understood that Jesus was born under stressful conditions to parents who struggled and overcame hardships to provide for their family. I felt I was in good company, I too trecked long journeys with my parents during camping trips, I slept in the  car during extended traveled so I thought I must understand this carpenter fella and his wife.

My father cherished Christmas as a time to reunite with friends and family.  Still grain farming by Vergreville, we would often leave our Edmonton home for three of four days to return to the country and reunited with relatives and neighbours.  Sometimes we would open gifts at strange houses, and other times we wouldn’t get back until a day or two after Santa had already come to visit out house – it was stressful times for a six year old.  I was always anxious and focused on presents.  My sisters was more vocal  than I, and that was ok, I let her apply the pressure, but I was just as anxious to get home as she was.

The part that always bothered me about Christmas growing up even more than the delayed presents or trips through the country side Is that Dad would often open our own home up to strangers – I often though to myself – 'but Christmas is suppose to be about family!' – And here is this person I don’t even know sharing an evening with us!"   I felt like my life was invaded, and I was being intruded on.

One time it was a grubby looking character from dads work who just wouldn’t stop talking.  Another time it was an alcoholic uncle who was long rejected by the family.  He was always friendly, but he smelled funny, and gave hugs with a prickly face, And yet another time it was the obnoxious friend that even dad himself didn’t get along with very much.  I could never understand why – on this day, he would open his doors to these people. – He simply said that it was the right thing to do.

The years in which we didn’t have a guest with us dad always insisted that we set an extra plate on the end of the table -  just in case somebody showed up!  I never really understood the reasoning for this until years later.

At the age of twelve we took our first ever winter vacation out of Canada.  With a truck and camper – three kids, and a months vacation, Dad and mom decided to take the family on a winter vacation to the southern US.  We went through the Grand Canyon and down to Mexico, and by Late December we ended up at Disneyland.  All seemed to be going well and mom did the best she could to decorate the camper in festive Christmas decor to keep our spirits bright.

In annual  tradition mom was preparing twelve meatless Ukrainian dishes for our family feast on this Christmas eve.  I’m not exactly sure how it came to be, but on this night we found ourselves without a campground, or reserved place to stay.  We chuckled at first as we drove from campsite to campsite, Dad felt a little like Joseph looking for a place to stay.  At first we really weren’t too worried because we could park almost anyware – and so we did.  We ended up at a large parking lot, and we settled in for supper.  Mom had all four burners on the camper stove going,  Our tiny camper table held the five of us around twelve dishes. And a spare plate was set , as in dads tradition

Just a few minutes before we were about to start our meal, a sharp wrap on the door startled us – I was thinking “Is this the guest who comes at Christmas” – but it was not, Instead the parking lot security was here asking to leave,  At first dad begged for some time, and then he grew angry and slightly frustrated,  In the end we just complied and were forced to pack up and leave immediately.

We all held a hot dish while dad drove down the street, and again we setup to start dinner. We no longer found the humour in our situation, and the loneliness of being away from home was starting to set in.  Again we gathered around the table but this time as dad  gave thanks,  I could see a tear being shed and it suddenly hit me what it was like to be without a place to stay at Christmas and how easy it might be just to have allowed us to stay - if even for a few more minutes.

Although I was still young, and protected by the security of my parents guidance, I felt a little more connected to that carpenter on the road so many years before. I held the meaning of Christmas just a little closer in my heart, and realize why dad was always so accepting of others at Christmas.

At last nights dinner we set  an extra plate for the stranger whom might arrive at our door.  I gave thanks for the great gifts we receive, even when we do not always understand it at the time.

Go out and make it a great day
And allows allow a place in your heart for that stranger in the night
Blaine