dancingthroughchaos

‘May you never be too grown up to search the skies on Christmas Eve.’ Anon

I once had a group of eight-year-olds ask me if we had elephants in our garden in South Africa.  It’s amazing which images persist and what impressions stick.  I could have told them that Cape Town is actually a very European city but, if they were super lucky, they might catch sight of a caracal on Table Mountain, or a dassie (rock hyrax) by the coast.  I could even have told them about the time we went with friends to stay at a property within a game reserve, and arrived to find that we really did have elephants in our garden – that was a first – but I didn’t want to perpetuate the myth.

Africa is a big place, obviously, but it’s a place of contrasts, beauty, frustration, and possibility in almost equal measures, geographically, socially and economically.  Right now, I’m flying up the lines of longitude back to England for a cold, and very probably wet Christmas, which I plan to celebrate to the full and, as much as possible, with my family.  Other passengers are dozing, reading or watching their screens, but having discovered there’s a single paltry seasonal film on offer (Richard Branson what were you thinking?), I’m listening to Christmas albums from my trusty merry playlist and trying not to sing along too loudly.  It’s a slightly surreal experience at 38,000 feet.

There’s something rather disappointing about a Christmas in Africa for someone brought up in Surrey. Although I’m seldom averse to a day at the beach and remain convinced that I was born to be warmed by the sun, the weather is not conducive to the traditional huddling under covers with the family, firm closure of the curtains, sipping of hot chocolate and watching of corny movies which we’ve already seen a hundred times.  Fairy lights are a waste of time since the sunlight can be so bright you can never tell whether they are switched on or not, and tinsel (always verging dangerously on the side of gaudy) looks flat and rather lame.

So, while full of expectation and googling all the places where I can enjoy nine lessons and carols this weekend, I am immensely grateful for having just spent a wonderful couple of days in one of the rural areas of South Africa from where we made several visits into a game park.  To be out in the African bush is a wonderful cure for stress, and feels very liberating for anyone who’s spent way too much time within the same four walls,  slogging at whatever employment has fortuitously come their way.  It’s as unlike visiting a zoo as you can get.  Where there, a giraffe looks awkward and ungainly, out in the bundu it looks majestic and elegant.

Also, unlike a zoo, there’s no guarantee that you’ll see anything at all, so every trip is different from both the last and the next. We were treated to some fantastic sightings which would have benefitted from a super-duper camera, but sometimes you just have to be in the moment, breathe the air and appreciate the space and smell of Africa while committing as much of it to memory as you can, and hoping your phone may capture something worthwhile.

Rather than launch into detailed descriptions, let me just say we were entertained by elephant antics, drove (carefully) through one of those torrential downpours you usually only see on a David Attenborough documentary, and watched a fascinating standoff between lions and hippos, which was made all the more exciting because the lions had three cubs and the pod of hippos, two calves.  Mutual respect was the order of the afternoon and both parties emerged unscathed and with their dignity intact.  The grand finale was the appearance of a leopard (notoriously shy and top of almost everyone’s ‘want to see’ list), who casually sauntered along beside us, kindly leapt into a tree to scan the landscape before jumping down again to continue his morning, stopping briefly only to mark his territory before he melted away into the deep bush again.  Fabulous.

Photos are a great memory, and videos a treasure, but there’s nothing like just watching nature unfold in front of your eyes and the feeling of enormous privilege and deep gratitude which it engenders.

All of which brings me to Christmas and the wonder of what shepherds and a simple couple from downtown Nazareth saw unfolding on the first Christmas morning.  What wonder and what privilege joined in those moments!

In spite of our clamorous news feeds and the grim predictions of what may be in store for any or all of us in 2024, and regardless of our geography, it’s a relief to turn our own eyes to the baby of Bethlehem again.  That story unfolded almost two thousand years ago, yet it’s still one worth celebrating.  The Christ child, who became the God man, promised a peace not to be found anywhere else, for those who invite Him to steer their course. Not just a nice thought or wishful thinking; He gave a solid promise to clean up messy lives, and to give strength for today as well as hope for tomorrow for those who trust in Him.  What better time of year to do just that?

Happy Christmas.

[Thanks to jeffjacobs1990 for Christmas images from Pixabay.]