My most poignant memory of Christmas does not come from home being surrounded by a family I love, the elegance of decorations or the gifts of love that we exchange. My most cherished memory of Christmas takes me back to Japan where I listened to the lone pensive melody of a single violin.
It was December and I was a newly arrived missionary still unsure and hesitant, serving in Sendai, Japan. I saw no vestiges of the Christmas I knew at home. There were no familiar Christmas lights or trees or snowmen and few other Americans. Instead of the familiar scents of gingerbread, turkey and evergreen, I walked through stands of raw fish, mounds of seaweed, and pots of boiling rice. In that sea of dark heads nothing seemed familiar.
A crisp Siberian chill rested on our apartment with a cold so intense that I put my toothpaste in the refrigerator to prevent it from freezing. Even our missionary work seemed cold and challenging.
It was just before Christmas and my companion and I were returning from a family home evening that never took place. As we arrived for our appointment the family looked surprised and occupied and asked us to come by another time, maybe in a year or two. Discouraged and disheartened we walked silently through the dimly lit narrow streets, over roads that were muddy, only partially paved and pockmarked. I felt forgotten and forlorn and so alone.
It was then that my miracle happened. In the distance on that chilly night, at first almost inaudible and then distinct, strains from a lone violin filled the night air with the hymn “Silent Night.”
In a non-Christian nation thousands of miles from home that familiar melody brought the sweet reassuring comfort of the Holy Spirit. I understood how the arms of our loving Heavenly Father could extend to any who needed Him regardless of place or time. It was a moment so tender and precious and intense that I will never forget it.
The Lord chose a very dark and unexpected moment to teach me about His capacity to love and to hear and answer the concerns of His children no matter how distant or removed we may be. On that December evening I felt encompassed by sheer radiant warmth and a confidence that all would be well and that I was not alone. I looked up from the muddy street to the clear star-filled luminous sky, that I had failed to notice, and I knew that there are worlds without end and a power that extends into eternity.
Far away from family and home, friends and any familiar material comfort, I rejoiced in a "silent night," a truly holy night and a Spirit that witnessed of our loving Savior, Jesus Christ.
