Images

Think of the words "stable" and "manger." What comes to your
mind? A softly lit, golden scene with clean straw, quiet animals
and a holy hush? A Christmas card image? The ceramic creche
that sits on your mantelpiece?

Not for the Oroko. The phrase used in the new translation to
explain 'manger' and 'stable' was this: 'uma wa balisekele melo
ote libembe.' In other words: 'place where they feed sheep
inside an animal pen.' This brought incredulous responses when
it was read aloud in the Christmas Eve and Christmas morning
services.

"Why was Jesus born there? Was he a goat or a man?"

"Why would Jesus be born in such a dirty place? How could that
happen?"

"I like the fact that Jesus was born in a goat house. It means
we don't have to be ashamed to live in thatch houses."

Point being... they get it better than I do. A stable is no
place for a king to be born. A dirty goat house, in a tiny
insignificant village, in a weak territory conquered by Rome, in
the middle of the hubbub and chaos of a forced census. The
Chosen One, the Messiah King, the Son of God to be born there?
Preposterous! How insulting! That's, well, almost vulgar.

Yes. It is. It should shock us. But even that is still only a
picture and a reminder of the real shocker: that God should
choose to become man... that the Creator should become the
created... that the Word should be made flesh and dwell among us.
"Veiled in flesh the Godhead see..."

Merry seventh day of Christmas!

Ah... Christmas memories...

In honour of those who remember and will laugh with me:

I am rather thankful that this Christmas season, I am not having
the additional experience of finals week. I prefer to spread my
stress like I spread my peanut butter: perhaps a little too thick
at times, but at least evenly. Or, perhaps, leave it off
altogether. Finals just before Christmas means that everyone in
one's immediate vicinity goes temporarily and gleefully insane.

It also means that both Christmas decorations and Christmas
presents may consist largely of red, white, and green underwear.

Or that a single lime, accompanied by screeches of hysterical
laughter, may become a flying air freshener for an hour or so.

Or that a poem about a dead kitty may become a sacred tradition
held in the highest hilarity.

Or that one may choose to spend a night wide awake in flowing
costume and red plush seats, leaving only one hour of sleep
before a final in physics.

...on second thought... I kinda miss it.

Merry sixth day of Christmas!

When Christmas baking...

"Rule no. 29 for cooking in Cameroon: Always include some kind
of small, black, crunchy spice to camouflage the weevils."

-Lisa

Merry fifth day of Christmas!

A sonnet for Christmas

Christmas

George Herbert

All after pleasures as I rid one day
My horse and I, both tir'd, bodie and minde,
With full crie of affections, quite astray,
I took up in the next inne I could finde.

There when I came, whom found I but my deare,
My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief
Of pleasures brought me to Him, readie there
To be all passengers' most sweet relief.

O Thou, Whose glorious yet contracted light,
Wrapt in Night's mantle, stole into a manger,
Since my dark soul and brutish, is Thy right,
To man, of all beasts, be not Thou a stranger;

Furnish and deck my soul, that Thou mayst have
A better lodging than a rack or grave.

Merry fourth day of Christmas!

The smoke from your ears gets in my eyes.

In honour of Jessica, with fond memories of dignified
conversations about 'pepe.' (For the uninitiated: that's 'hot
pepper' in pidgin. One of the most, um, noticeable things about
Oroko food.)

I owe the title of this post to a brilliant burst of inspiration
during one of said conversations. I think I'll save it for a
truly dizzying comeback, if anyone ever asks me why there are
tears running down my face as I eat.

Don't you think pepe juice would make a great Christmas present?
First of all, it's red. Very seasonal. Secondly, one always
wants to give memorable gifts. What could be more memorable than
a dose of pepe on your scrambled eggs Christmas morning? The
kids would have fond memories of your enthusiastic response for
the rest of their lives. Thirdly, you would feel like a
Christmas candle. Not only could you get smoke to come out your
ears... your whole head could feel like it was on fire. And of
course we are all supposed to want to be like a beautiful
Christmas candle.

Merry third day of Christmas!

I'm dreaming of... Connecticut

Oh, somewhere in this wide, wide world the snow is falling light,
Sleds are flying somewhere, and somewhere roofs are white.
And somewhere frost is patterned, and noses red with cold;
But there is no snow in Bekondo-- mighty Winter has no hold.

Merry second day of Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

A Christmas Carol

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him,
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part, -
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

-Christina Rossetti

Merry first day of Christmas!

(If you're noticing a lot of Christina Rossetti's poetry on my
blog recently-- you're observant. :-) I missed that semester of
Torrey and so I am just now discovering this treasure-trove.
Enjoy!)

an Announcement

This January promises to be very hot... and methinks I have
caught the Benedick.

We may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit
broken on us, because we railed so long against it... but shall
quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe us
from the career of our humour?

No! The world must be peopled!

On December 13, not two hours before my twenty-fourth birthday...
under the light of the almost-full equatorial moon, waxing to its
brightest in 18 years... on the seashore of the west coast of
Africa, watching the moonlight reflect off the whitecaps... my
Benedick and my beloved asked me to be his wife, and I said yes!

Now, for those of you who are hankering for a story. --Some
details, of course, are classified information and will not be
divulged; mais c'est la vie, n'est pas? We'll try and tell this
together...

Sharon: I was utterly and totally convinced that Jim could not
possibly propose during his month in Cameroon. I had several
perfectly sound reasons, which I kept repeating to myself over
and over to squelch hope (all of which turned out to be
irrelevant, of course)... the best comment I received on this
process was "Wow. So you reasoned yourself into an illogical
belief. That's funny, Sharon. You usually don't err on the side
of practicality."

The rest of the world was equally convinced that it would be the
most natural thing in the world for Jim to propose this December,
at which tendency I was exceedingly vexed.

Jim: Well, of course this is something I've been praying about
for three years now... but more intently in the past six or seven
months. So I made sure to check with my parents and my spiritual
counselors to make sure I wasn't completely off my rocker.
(Note: Sharon's reasons were all the ones I thought of too!)

So I finally checked with her father, the night before I left on
the plane to Cameroon. (Note: I was sick as a dog the whole week
before, or I would have asked sooner! Really!) I was planning
on proposing at Christmas; however, it just seemed like we found
our moment...

Sharon: Jim arrived in Cameroon on December 12, and by the next
day we were back at the seashore in Kribi where Dan, Lisa,
Rachel, and I were just finishing up our vacation. That evening
I mentioned the brightness of the moon, and Jim offered to
"steal" me for a while so we could take a walk on the beach. We
wandered along the shore and found a seat on an old driftwood
log, bleached almost white, and talked and talked and talked.
(Even when you have email, there are many, many things to be said
after a six-months' absence...)

Jim: "Talked and talked and talked"? I felt like I couldn't get
a word out, I was so nervous! But that was okay, because Sharon
picked up the slack. So I sat there, and prayed and prayed and
prayed in my head till I finally thought to myself, "When are you
going to get a better chance than now?"

Sharon: I was sitting on the sand by his knee when he suddenly
burst out with the declaration, "I spoke with your father before
I left." I'm sure my eyes were as round as dinner plates, and
quite as large! It sure sounded like the beginning of a
proposal... but that wasn't even supposed to be a possibility...

Jim: Her eyes WERE quite as round as dinner plates, and almost
as large! Of course, now I had to think about how to get down on
one knee, because she was already sitting on the ground. In a
split second I decided it would spoil the moment, so I stayed
seated rather than attempt engagement gymnastics... I was a
little worried, though, because it didn't look like she was
breathing.

Sharon: I don't remember whether I breathed or not... but I did
manage to say yes, so I must have had at least a little bit of
breath...!

For those of you who would really like answers to the practical
questions (practicality? what's that?): :-) we are looking at
the possibility of a September 2006 wedding, but haven't set a
date yet. There are a lot of factors involved, so that's still
pretty tentative (but we'd love an autumn wedding, God willing!).
I will return to the States in late May, and Jim will graduate
with his MA around the same time, so we'll be able to make more
concrete plans around then.

Rejoice with us!

P.S. I hope that I managed to email all the people I needed to
email before I posted this. If I accidentally left you out,
please forgive me... and chalk it up to the fact that I am
totally and completely twitterpated, not to mention an ocean and
a continent away...

Vacation

We are going on vacation. We are going to the beach. We are not
checking or sending email.

I think this will be restful. (After I get over the withdrawal
symptoms.) :-)

Farewell for ten days or so... but by the time I return to my
blog, I will be able to say something Exciting.

December 14

I found this singularly appropriate... (pretend with me that it's
on the correct day... internet access is tricky right now)

A Birthday

Christina Rossetti

My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

Sound effects

Is it bad if you turn on the computer and it emits a loud beep,
followed by a louder frying noise and then gentle chirps like
birdsong?

At least this is "Rachel's computer" (an old, discarded laptop
that hasn't quite died yet) rather than the dictionary
computer...

Generational gap

Dan was doing a puzzle with Rachel from her kids' devotional
book. The puzzle was about synonyms for "victor."

Trying to help her think of the word "champion," Dan crooned a
few notes. "We are the..."

Rachel looked up with great interest. "Pirates who don't do
anything!!"