Story By Aaron Rittenour

I’m a vegetarian, and despite a number of missionary friends telling me it’s impossible to stay a vegetarian and also travel, I have never had a problem sticking with my lifestyle choice throughout my journeys. Although today, I want to share a story about a time in my life when that lifestyle choice was truly challenged. I like to call this story “A Most Gracious Gift.”

It was January, but there was no snow on the ground and no harsh bite of the cold air. That’s because I was in India, visiting a small village of no more than 300 people. Evening had settled in, and at the center of the village stood a little brick church. Inside, a single lightbulb glowed—its soft, flickering light illuminating the dark room. The concrete floor beneath was cracked and uneven, like many churches throughout India. Power for that lone bulb came from a wire loosely strung from a nearby hut.

A meeting that had taken place in the church was just wrapping up, and the fifty people who had been packed so tightly into the small structure were trickling out into the cool night. I stepped outside and took a deep breath. As a foreigner in a remote village, the attention can be overwhelming, and I needed a moment of quiet.

Walking down the narrow road that wound through the village, I came across a few people gathered around a small fire, staying warm in the evening air. They motioned for me to join them, and before long I was sitting with them—laughing, smiling, enjoying a kind of company that doesn’t require shared language. Under the stars, we all glanced up at the bright moon in a moment of shared wonder. Even without words, I’m sure we all felt it: peace on earth.

After a while, someone came down the road calling for me. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been gone. My translator and companion let me know that the pastor wanted to talk for a bit back in the church. I said goodbye to my new found friends and made my way back through the darkness.

As we sat in the dimly lit church, chatting and enjoying some fruit the pastor had brought, a little old lady reverently walked inside. She was slightly hunched over, moving carefully as though each step caused her pain. In her hands she carried a metal dish, and in that dish was rice—and chicken.

She handed me the dish, speaking words I could not understand. Then, to my shock, she gently sank to her knees. Tears began streaming down her face as she leaned down and kissed my feet.

I was stunned. I felt completely unworthy of such humility and kindness. Here she was, offering me food that was likely everything she could gather, and on top of that, she was honoring me in a way that felt far too great.

I helped her stand, took her hand in mine, and hugged her as she wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of her sari. Holding back my own tears, I prayed for her—the only thing I could think to do.

And you want to know something?
I ate every last bite of that chicken and rice as she sat on the floor beside me, watching with such joy on her face.

It was, without question, one of the most gracious gifts I have ever received.

This Christmas, wherever you find yourself in the world, pause and remember why we celebrate this season at all. In a society overflowing with material wants, it’s easy to get wrapped up in materialism. “Out with the old, in with the new,”

But for us as Christians, Christmas is so much greater than all of those things. It’s about the gift that was given to us through the birth of Jesus.

As you reflect on that gift this Christmas, take a moment to count your blessings. I guarantee you have much to be thankful for.

Wishing you a truly Merry Christmas.

A Most Gracious Gift

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