Contributor Carole McDonnell’s short stories and essays appear online and in print, in speculative fiction, ethnic, and Christian publications. She lives in New York with her husband, two sons, and their pets. Wind Follower, published by Juno Books, is Carole’s first novel. Her voice adds plenty to our discussion, so I welcome Carole and her column Faith in Color to Allaboutrace.com.

It must be the season.

People always talk about The Christmas Spirit. From what I’ve been able to glean from folks on television and in the real world, The Christmas Spirit is supposed to be a combination of feelings: inner peace and joy, love for one’s neighbor, general outgoingness, the deep-down feeling that one is loved by one’s neighbor and known by God, a feeling of well-being and warmth and the conviction that if things aren’t right with the world well they will one day soon be quite right.

Honestly, I never quite feel all this despite the glut of slice-of-life magical movies about rich people discovering their hearts, or isolated bitter recluses rediscovering love, or poor folks getting sudden monetary blessings. Sometimes the rare movie about Jesus Christ kinda touches me but for the most part the world is too much with me. There are bills to pay that I cannot pay, people to visit that I cannot visit, old bitterness that I thought would have dissipated but which will linger on into next year in spite of all my new year’s resolutions. So yeah, I never quite get that wonderful gooey feeling we all hope the holiday will bring.

That’s not to say we don’t get a little bit gooey. How could I not? For one, everyone in town lives in this zeitgeist of expectation. Basically, the idea of the Christmas Spirit is so all-pervasive that the average person feels as if they really should start seeing, hope, joy, peace, love, and good will everywhere. Perhaps it’s because we’re all in the hood and heck poor folks tend to be religious. Or maybe it’s because the town is full of immigrants – Yemeni, Latin American, Pakistani, Jamaican, Chinese– who all have seen “It’s a wonderful life.” But, honestly, I’ve been seeing love and joy and friendliness on the faces of everyone in town – whether they are Christian or not. I’m talking…more than the usual friendliness.

I’ve even seen it in myself. Okay, generally, I’m very friendly. I’ll talk to strangers. But, I’ll admit that when the tension between the town old-timers and the new immigrants was at its tensest – stories circulating in the Ecuadorean community about black folks stealing and robbing the Western Union place and blacks walking around saying that the Ecuadoreans “think they are better than us and think they are white…,” well, it was pretty tense.

But, wow, dang if bonds of friendship aren’t being made even as I type. I suspect it’s because it’s a small town and we’re fairly well insulated from the larger American community. We don’t see gang wars and I find myself saying, “well, blacks and Hispanics in Southern California are having fights but that doesn’t mean that blacks and Hispanics in Peekskill are gonna fight.” All that media stuff isn’t making us judge each other anymore.

Although Hispanic folks generally only have other Hispanics for friends, they do live on the same blocks with non-Hispanics. Trust me: most of the Hispanics in my town speak only Spanish. Okay, sure my racist neighbor has an attitude and still behaves as if blacks are the lowest thing on the totem pole, but she’s in the minority. The other new Ecuadorean arrivals actually seem to be trying to befriend the old-timers. This is a town where people nod to each other as they walk past each other on the street. The new arrivals didn’t understand that. Now, they’ve gotten into the town’s mode and are actually smiling at non-Latino strangers as they pass us. Yes, there’s a heck of a lot of non-verbal Christmas Greetings going on. People are smiling and grinning at each other as they pass each other on the streets. And this has caused quite the upswell of peace, joy, and goodwill. Plus there is that element of Bravery. Everywhere I hear blacks, Asians, Pakistanis, Yemenis saying, “Feliz Navidad.” I’m actually saying it when I see Hispanic strangers on the street. And when I say it…smiles abound. The funny thing is; I suspect the new immigrants would probably be saying Merry Christmas also but that fear is stopping them. Fear of mangling English, fear of being given a dirty look by a stranger.

I suspect though that by next year, the fear will give way to a new bravery for all concerned, especially as the new arrivals learn our language, and we realize that they aren’t all prejudice. Of course, this might just be me being hopeful. But isn’t that what keeps us going? Hope.

Dear Lord, you said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” It’s that time of year, Lord where many of us understand what it means to be poor in spirit. On a basic level, being poor often means the same thing as being poor in spirit. The poor person has to kowtow to the rich. They have to do without. They live in denial. But you Lord, when you chose to be born, “pitched your tent in a place of excrement.” Unlike other princes who were born in wealth and power, you were born poor, became a refugee at age two, died wrongly convicted by state-sponsored capital punishment, and was surrounded by a prostitute and poor folks at your death. Like many suffering poor around the world, you were despised and rejected. How wonderful it is to have a Lord who understands suffering. In Mary’s song, she declared that you have helped the poor but you have sent the rich away empty. Lord, I believe this. I don’t much like having money problems. The poor don’t like being poor. But your joy, and your peace are upon those who know they need you every day of their lives. The poor in spirit live close to you Lord, and you are our hope. I praise you, Lord Jesus. Amen.”