This story is one of my favorite Christmas memories. I hope you enjoy the re-run of it this year.
It was December 1963. I had just turned 14. My parents and I were living on the third floor of the Vanda Hotel near Boundary Street in Hong Kong. Our two room suite was to be home for five months while my dad set up an electronics factory in Kowloon.
With a little begging from me, my parents let me stay out of school that year. I think my mom really wanted me around so we could explore Hong Kong together. We walked, rode the ferry to Hong Kong island, took the cable car up Victoria Peak, visited Buddhist temples, taught conversational English at a girls high school, made stuffed animals for little children, attended an English speaking church at Hong Kong Baptist College, took Chinese painting classes, ate at interesting places, had clothes and shoes made, and met many of the warmest most generous people we had ever met.
Hong Kong was a city of contrasts...wealth and poverty...dinner parties and hungry beggars...high-rise flats and cardboard shanty towns. I was touched by the dignity and graciousness that I saw every day in the lives of even the poorest Chinese people. It was humbling to be in their presence...suddenly I realized having a bad hair day was not a world crisis! I had a lot more to be thankful for than I had ever imagined...and maybe blessings weren't meant to be kept to myself.
The week before Christmas arrived. We were away from our family and old friends...it was just the three of us in our tiny temporary home with our little artificial "Charlie Brown" Christmas tree in the corner of my bedroom. We needed a family to share Christmas with but how would we find one? Then we thought of Mr. Kwan!
Mr. Kwan was a smiling young man in his twenties who worked with my dad in the electronics factory. Daddy really liked Mr. Kwan...he had a winning personality and loved his job. They quickly became friends. Mr. Kwan loved showing us the sights of Hong Kong that most Americans never saw. We all enjoyed his company. As we spent more time together, we learned that Mr. Kwan lived in a one room flat with his father and seven brothers and sisters. He was supporting his entire family with his earning from the factory.
One day Daddy explained to Mr. Kwan that we always gave presents to our family at Christmas. Since we were away that year, would he mind if we gave presents to his family instead? He agreed and gave us the names and ages of his entire family. We were so excited...it would be a real Christmas after all!
We spent several nights shopping for toys, candy and Christmas goodies. Mama and I wrapped and tagged the gifts and placed them under our little tree. A couple of nights before Christmas, Daddy and I climbed up the four flights of stairs to Mr. Kwan's flat carrying gifts from Santa. About half way up we saw several curious little boys peeping at us around the staircase. They flashed quick smiles in our direction and ran back up the stairs to announce the arrival of the strange American visitors!
Mr. Kwan welcomed us into his home and introduced us to each member of his family. His mother had died and Mr. Kwan's oldest sister helped their dad with the cooking and childcare duties for the family. The room was neatly lined with bunk beds. A little Christmas tree glowed merrily in a corner. A tiny makeshift kitchen filled another corner. The home may have been small... but the love there ...it felt big...very big!
We all smiled and nodded at one another. It's amazing how much you can say with a smile and a nod...and 
somehow in the midst of all our cultural and economic differences...Christmas came to all of us. It was the real kind of
Christmas...not a middle class American family giving to a poor Chinese
family...simply two families sharing friendship...and caring...and exchanging the best gifts any of us can give at Christmas time...our welcoming hearts.
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