William Layton Nelson

Copyright: Michael Coatesworth.

Last revised: February 04, 2008

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Christmas on the farm
By
William Layton Nelson

As children, we looked forward to that special time when people would give presents to one another, with a smile on their faces. Living on a farm on a tropical island, we didn't have any snow to play in, instead we played in the rain, but it was Christmas just the same.

It wasn't an average Christmas for the children on the farm, as there were no jingle bells playing, and no radio to listen to. Our family of six children, plus cousins and friends, always played in the yard at the top of a hill that was nearby, and to us this was a haven, a place where we could forget all our troubles and just enjoy ourselves.

Our house, one of the larger ones around, had four bedrooms, of which our parents took the largest room, whilst the three smaller rooms were shared by at least seven children.

Of course there were bigger houses than ours around, such as the Carry's, Miss Liza's and the Martin's. Their houses were so large that we, as children were often afraid to enter them in case we got lost. So it is fair to say that we were less fortunate than some and better off than others.

Although we lived on a farm, there were many times that we didn't have meat on our plates, but at Christmas our father ensured that we always had some kind of meat on the table even if it meant taking a couple of hens from our small brood.

As with all children, Christmas was special, but to us it was even more special, and even though we didn't get a lot of toys, we appreciated the ones we did receive. All through the year, with the help of our elder brother Llewelyn, we would make our own toys and looked after each and every one of them.

I remember one Christmas in particular when we knew that we were going to receive gifts, we couldn't wait for Christmas morning to arrive to open them. Like all children, we often looked in the store windows and stared longingly at the expensive toys, such as fire trucks, cars, dolls, and as we went home, we knew that it would be a very long time before we received anything like the gifts we had just seen.

Back in those days, in the country or on the farms, it was a custom to have rocks weighing from four pounds upward bordering the path on both sides of the walkway or driveway to different houses whether the family's had cars or not. I remember that a few weeks before Christmas, we would turn limestone into liquid and we would paint those rocks white. Although our jobs consisted of taking care of the livestock, and fetching water from the different surrounding springs, as well as a multitude of other tasks, these were jobs that had to be taken care of come rain or shine, but on Christmas day, besides attending to the need of livestock and fetching the water, not a lot of work was done around the house or on the farm.

We had an uncle who lived in Kingston, Jamaica, and he always came to our village on Christmas day. We lived approximately a quarter of a mile from the road, and for some strange reason our uncle would stop by the side of the road and yell "hello everybody, Merry Christmas! I have something for you, come and get it!" The two eldest children would run as fast as they could to his beckoned call; but upon reaching halfway to where our uncle was waiting, he would suddenly drive away. I cannot recall anyone ever reaching him before he drove away. He never came to see our mama, his youngest sister. The more I learned about my uncle, the more puzzled I became. Up to this day we are still asking ourselves why he didn't come to see mama? I will admit that he always put a ray of sunshine into our lives on Christmas day with whatever gifts he dropped off. At that time in our lives we were more interested in receiving the items that he gave us rather than trying to understand his behaviour.

Christmas morning arrived and we all as one were chatting excitedly as we accepted the presents that were handed to us, and as we opened them, our eyes lit up at the balloons, whistles and firecrackers. Okay, so we didn't get anything like we saw in the stores, but at least we were happy.

Today I put more value on the meaning of Christmas. Receiving and giving gifts is indeed a good thing as long as it comes from the heart. But for me, Christmas will always be a special time with some wonderful memories.

Not only is it because Jesus was born in a manger in a little town called "Bethlehem," and he left the glory of heaven to take on the form of a lowly child to try to save our world. He did this for his love of humanity, oh what a saviour! He was of royal blood, but no one appeared to care, he was from the line of king David, and it was Bethlehem, the city of his ancestors that it was ordained for him to be born. Isn't it ironic that Bethlehem is located in "the city of David?" Jesus lay in a manger, our lord and redeemer, our saviour and king. Even though he was of royal blood, from the line of his father in heaven, and from the line of king David, he lay not in a bed of fine linen. Straw was his bed, and animals his neighbours, and at his side were his earthly parents, Mary and Joseph.

Let us treat this Christmas and all other Christmas' as if Joseph Mary and baby Jesus were staying in our homes. Let peace and Joy in from our hearts forever in abundance flow, wherever we are, wherever we may go, Merry Christmas!

William Layton Nelson
10/9/00
forestman@bwn.net

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