Christmas in Jamaica

Christmas in Jamaica as a full time missionary was a special time of year. Because it’s such a poor country, you seldom had many invitations for meals. But as Christmas approached, all of that changed. People came out of the woodwork to feed us. There were four of us in our district, and we all were invited together. Unfortunately, all of the invitations were on the same day – Christmas!

As the Big Day approached, it became apparent that Christmas would be busy and filling! We had appointments for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and then some visits later in the night. We stressed to several of the families that we had meals scheduled and that we would only come over to visit. No problem, they said, just come for a visit.

The first couple of homes showed us the generosity of the people. Each had prepared massive feasts with all of the traditional Jamaican food items – some good (Chicken and Rice and Beans), some not so good (Oxtail soup)! But like good missionaries we ate and ate and ate.

By lunch, we realized the error of our planning. We simply could not stand to eat another thing. Each meal was like a Thanksgiving meal. We were all terribly bloated from the great bounty of food that had been in front of us, and the mere thought of more food made us cringe with fear.

I remember one of the last homes very distinctly – a poor single mother and her kids. We had told her that we would not be coming for dinner, only to visit. Yet when we arrived, lo and behold, her table was decked out with all manner of foods. Our hearts sank. Clearly this had represented a significant sacrifice for her. Yet we were simply stuffed. We told her that we had been eating all day, and couldn’t eat another thing. Unfortunately, she got very offended and told us it was because she was poor. Oh no! It couldn’t be further from the truth, but there was no convincing her. We had to eat one more time.

So the four of us saddled up to that table and took the least amount possible to offend her. Yet, our plates were still overflowing. But bite by bite we ate the impossible dinner.

My companion finished first – displaying his clean plate for our hostess to see. He looked like he was ready to pop. He taunted us that we were a long way from being done, and with a certain satisfaction excused himself from the table to use the bathroom. And that’s when we got sweet revenge! To his great surprise he returned to find his plate stacked higher than before, with the three of us smiling back at him. I smiled and thought to myself, “No my dear Elder, you are a long way from being done.”

That story stands out to me as one of my favorite Christmas memories ever. The people showed us the true meaning of Christmas, and we felt the warmth and love of the Christmas spirit although very far from home.