COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS

      I remember the anticipation and waiting for our first Christmas in London in 1978. Dick and I had only been married one year when he was transferred to London for his job with the government. We were lucky enough to find a lovely flat, but our household goods were still enroute by slow boat from California. So we borrowed a table and chairs, a sofa bed, rented a TV. We did have our air shipment of clothes, linens, dishes, and pots and pans, so we were fairly able to exist.

      Not being familiar yet with the shopping in London, we purchased a very small, fake tree, some decorations and a small Nativity to set up. During all the weeks leading up to the holidays, I remember missing my children and our families; but also telling myself, “Count your blessings. How many people get a chance to live in London?” And, so, meeting new neighbors and making new friends and learning a totally new culture was very exciting.

      Christmas Eve was spent going to a candlelight service at a nearby Anglican church (no comparison to our warm American church). But the wonderful Christmas story was the same.

      Our Christmas present to each other that year was to be a three-day trip to Sweden after Christmas, so the only wrapped present under our little “Charlie Brown” tree was one from my parents in Oregon. Finally, Christmas morning… We both looked at the one lone gift and decided to open it together. As we opened the present, we both started laughing. It was an electric alarm clock that we couldn’t use, because the power in England is 220v and the clock was 110v. Oh well, “Count your blessings…it’s the thought that counts; and we’re going to Sweden.”

      Our trip to Sweden was even more of a shock. There were several other American families and other British friends from work going also. On our ferry trip over (which was only supposed to take twelve hours), we hit one of the worst storms in forty years and so were delayed more than twenty hours. Of course, when we finally make it to Gothenburg, our reserved hotel rooms were not available, so we had to sit in the lobby until the tour director made arrangements for us to take a bus tour of the surrounding countryside. When our English-speaking tour guide finally got on the bus, he was very nice until he found out that we were mostly Americans. Then, getting very red in the face, he informed us he hated all Americans, as he was an avowed communist and the CIA had killed his father because he was a double agent. Well, to say the least, it made for an interesting tour. We found out a lot about communism that day. But, count your blessings…Sweden is a very beautiful country, even in the winter.

      And that day was the first of many that I felt truly blessed to be an American and have the freedoms I have.

      We have spent many Christmases here and abroad since that one, but it still remains a very vivid memory and one we have many laughs over. God has truly blessed us.

                                                                        --Marlene Glasgow