“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” – Zechariah 4:10
The festive season has begun, and our school feels emptier than ever. Without the laughter of children and the bustle of our teachers, the quietness echoes through the classrooms and hallways. Most of our staff have traveled back to their villages, eager to celebrate Christmas with their families. For them, this holiday is a precious time to reconnect, to rest, and to embrace traditions passed down through generations.
Christmas in the village is vibrant and deeply rooted in community. The preparations begin weeks in advance. Families save up for a chicken or goat, which will be the centrepiece of their Christmas meal—a special treat that might only be enjoyed once or twice a year. Millet and cassava are ground into flour for steaming or making porridge, and bananas are ripened in time for cooking matoke, Uganda’s beloved steamed banana dish. Women often braid each other’s hair in elaborate styles, while children scrub their clothes until they shine, excited to wear them to church on Christmas Day. On Christmas morning, the village stirs to life before dawn. The air fills with the rhythmic pounding of drums, signalling the start of lively church services. Everyone dresses in their best—women in colourful gomesis, their wide sashes tied elegantly, and men in neatly pressed shirts or kanzus. Church is the heart of the celebration. The service is anything but quiet; it’s filled with energetic singing, joyous cheers, and the beating of traditional drums. After church, families return home for their Christmas feast. Chairs are brought outside, and meals are shared under the shade of mango or avocado trees. It’s a time of abundance, even in simplicity. Plates are piled with rice, matoke, and the precious meat saved for this day. Neighbours drop by with greetings, sharing small gifts of food or stories of the year. For children, it’s a day of joy, playing barefoot in the fields, eating sugary chapati, and maybe even enjoying soda—a rare and thrilling treat.
Evenings are quieter but still full of warmth. Families sit around small fires, sipping tea or simply talking under the stars. Christmas here isn’t about presents or flashy decorations. It’s about togetherness and gratitude for the gift of Christ.
For Jonny and me, Christmas is a much quieter affair. Without the bustle of family gatherings or the commercial busyness we once knew, we’ve learned to embrace the stillness. Over seven years, we’ve come to appreciate this quieter version of Christmas. It’s a chance to slow down, reflect, and focus on the heart of the season—celebrating the birth of our Savior.
But the holiday isn’t entirely quiet for us. Not all of the children go home. Some stay behind—those whose families are far away or who would otherwise spend their days digging in the fields. I spend the first two weeks of the holiday with these children. We work on their reading and English skills, and I help them catch up on any schoolwork they struggled with during the term.
This week, we’ve added a little creativity to our routine. We’ve been crafting ornaments and decorations out of paper and string. The children’s delight in their creations is contagious, and their giggles fill the air as we hang them in the library. In the afternoons, we watch family movies together, snuggled on mats with bowls of popcorn.
Every morning, we gather for a simple devotion to remind the children—and myself—of the true meaning of this season. We read Scripture, sing a few songs, and pray together, grounding the day in the most important truth: Christ has been born. I hope these moments help the children carry this message with them, no matter where they go or how they celebrate.
These moments remind me of Zechariah 4:10:
“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.”
It’s easy to feel that the small things we do don’t matter. Spending an afternoon helping a child improve their reading, crafting ornaments out of scrap paper, or offering a prayer during morning devotion might seem insignificant compared to grand gestures. But this verse reminds us that God rejoices in the small, faithful steps we take.
The context of Zechariah 4:10 is a powerful one. The people of Israel were rebuilding the temple, and it seemed like an impossible task. The progress was slow, and the results didn’t compare to the glory of the original temple. But God saw their effort, and He reminded them that He values even the smallest acts of obedience.
For me, this verse resonates deeply during this quiet season. Preparing for the new year—tidying the library, printing books, planning lessons—might not seem extraordinary. Spending hours with children who have nowhere else to go might feel like just another part of my routine. Yet, these small acts, done in faith, are precious to God.
Christmas in the villages and the stillness here at the school remind me that the true celebration of Christ’s birth doesn’t require grandeur. It’s found in the simple, meaningful moments of love, community, and faith. Just as the people in the villages gather to share a meal or sing together in church, we, too, are called to honor the small beginnings in our lives.
As we look ahead to the new year, I hope to carry this truth with me: that God delights in every faithful step, no matter how small. Whether it’s teaching a child to read, crafting an ornament, or leading a devotion, these moments are part of His greater plan. They are small beginnings, yes, but they are filled with purpose and hope.
This Christmas, may we all find joy in the small things, knowing that God rejoices with us. Let’s embrace the stillness, cherish the moments, and remember that Christ—our greatest gift—was born into humble beginnings to bring us everlasting hope.
With Love Dana