I get the feeling that around here a white Christmas is
neither anticipated nor dreamed of. Judging from recent events, Oklahomans
don’t really care for snow. I saw a plow truck with its hopper filled with
sand, but it was very tentative about using the plow or the sand. There I was, a
Mainer enjoying a little bit of Maine-like winter and everyone appeared to be…let’s
say - put off by it. I don’t think people want any more snow.
I grew up where you measured winter in feet of snow and
months of cold. A Christmas without snow was unheard of. If it happened, we
felt very uncomfortable, our internal barometers knocked off kilter. We went to
school in blizzards in northern Maine, and dressed in so many layers of
protection that we always made sure to go to the bathroom before going outside.
I remember one year when they closed school early because a snowstorm started
while we were there. By the time the
school bus made it out to our house in the country, the driver had to carry my
little sister to our door because the snow was too deep for her to push through
it. I’m used to snow, especially at Christmas time.
But not to worry. I’ve done this before. We spent four years
in New Zealand. Southeast of Australia, New Zealand is in the southern
hemisphere and December is in summer there. Not even a chance of snow! Our
first Christmas there we went with friends to have a picnic on the beach,
complete with mutton sausage and a swim in the Pacific. We spent subsequent
Christmas breaks visiting Hot Sands Beach where you can dig down through the
sand to hot water springs, making your own little spa; we swam in Lake Taupo (some of us – it’s an icy volcanic
lake); and went to Kareotahi, a beach of sand on the Tasman Sea that is as
black as coal. I found that if you’re on a white sand beach and you squint hard
enough, it almost looks like snow.
I would show our friends there pictures of our winters in
New England, and I swear, in their eyes was kindled a little look of longing.
They really wanted to experience that kind of Christmas. However, when my
husband traveled in Africa and showed some gentlemen a picture of our house in
winter, they were horrified. “You must pray,” they insisted, “that God change
your weather.” We humans judge the norm by our own experiences. So I know that
my “white Christmas” dreaming is very subjective.
We've been blessed to have such a variety of Christmas
experiences. The snowy ones, for me, evoke a sense of nostalgia and rightness,
but the beachy ones were other-worldly and great fun. I know now that Christmas
will come to pass, whether white or green or golden brown. With the new friends we've made here, and the great love they've shown us, more than ever I realize
it’s what Christmas means more than how it looks that’s important. I’m OK with
that. I promise not to pray for more snow, but you will forgive me, I hope, if
when it happens, you see a little smile on my face.
