Unusual Yuletide

Green grass covers the ground where a white blanket should lie. This Canadian winter is anything but a Canadian winter. Granted, I am still chilled to the bone most of the time, but these days reflect very little of the winter ones I used to know.

Christmas came and Christmas went. Even though the climate is changing, the motions of celebrating this festive season remain the same. The Saturday before Dad's birthday we trek out to choose and cut down our tree. Dad starts and ends the dressing of the tree. First, by stringing the lights and finally, by adding the touch of a home-made star on the top. The cut-out cardboard star, wrapped in aluminum foil is a tradition begun by my Grandpa and continued by our family every year. The rest of the ornaments are hung by my four year old nieces...the bottom half of the tree is well endowed. One branch bears two shiny globes, a ceramic angel, a wooden bell, and a little puppy on a string...which you can only see when you part the thick mass of tinsel thrown on by my two year old nephews. This Christmas tree wouldn't be featured in any magazine but it does reflect the the excitement and fascination of kids who are crazy about the holidays.

My youngest niece, Hayley, was the greatest gift under the tree. We did, we put her under the tree and watched her reaction. Eyes darting and limbs bursting from her body, it seemed she would explode from sensory overload. Hayley even starred as baby Jesus in a short movie. Having an infant around is a great visual for the rest of us. The reality of Christ's entrance in the world stares right back at us every time we hold and admire Hayley in our arms. Did the eyes of Jesus fixate on the stars above the stable and did his little arms flail with emotion at the sight of shepherds and sheep? I'm sure they did.

In a week, my mom will play her part in the whole Christmas tree saga: removal and disposal. In two weeks, I'll be back in Bolivia. This Christmas may have been unusual in it's lack of snow, but it was wonderful to be present. The greens grass didn't dampen the thrill of this grown-up kid who is still crazy about Christmas.

O Canada, O Convenience

After spending most of the day at the International Team's office in Elmira, I headed home and pulled into an Esso to fill up. Actually, I can't fill up because my Honda Civic has a hole in the gas tank and anything over ten bucks just spills onto the ground. At any rate, I sidled up to the pump and proceeded to get out of the car. With my ATM card ready to insert into the machine, I noticed a man walking my way and coming around the hood of my car. I wondered why he was approaching me and if maybe I should have known who he was. Short moments later, I noticed the Esso emblem and his name embroidered on his shirt and realized that this service station actually provided full service. Fumbling with my words I said, "Oh you're the...you want to...." He just smiled and responded, "That's okay, you go right ahead", and headed back inside the kiosk.

Pulling away with a semi-full tank, I couldn't believe how quickly I've become used to this automated, impersonal society. Gas stations in Bolivia are still full service and some locations are staffed by pretty little things in short skirts, low cut shirts, and high boots. Everything in Canada is automated and super convenient. Parking fees are paid through machines, Walmart offers self-check-out aisles, and all your Christmas shopping can be done on-line and delivered right to your door. If you desire, you could choose to never have another face-to-face human interaction for the rest of your life!

Bolivia may be full of inconveniences, but it's rich with human interaction. Perhaps for some, the thought of less live contact with others is a relief. It means less strife, less friction, and less 'pointless' chit chat. Besides relationships can be messy and potentially painful so why risk the off-chance that a new one might begin?

I know this is the Canada in which I live, but I just sense that something has been lost. It hit me again as I got closer to home and saw the sign for Pete's Garage and Gas. Yellow, unlit, and swinging from a rusty steel pole, it's only companion was a small shop boasting plywood for windows. And I wonder who was Pete and if maybe I should have known who he was.

Where's My Woolies?

A week and one day ago, sweat was oozing out of my every pore and there was nothing more appealing then the thought of a Canadian winter. Complaining about the weather is not something I want to do, but can I just say that I haven't seen the sun in five days?!? Temperatures have been fairly mild but I believe the second ice age is arriving as I type. Winds, like snowy ghosts, are frenetically dancing around the house. The radiant heat of the woodstove wards off the chill from my bones, but I can't go too far before the freeze seeps in again. In fact the location of this computer is almost too distant for me to absorb the warmth, but that is a sacrifice I will make to post a blog.

It was as I sat through a more than 2 hour long Christmas choir concert, that the rain turned to snow and the temperatures plummeted below zero. There were over 130 voices that participated in this very traditional, typical choir event. It reflected all that I grew up with: organ, unadorned walls, suits and skirts, peppermint bags, and Dutch people warming every pew!

I was invited to the concert by my friend Joni, who also comes from solid Dutch origins. I mentioned to her that at one point I rejected all the traditions and trappings that came with the Reformed church. Today, although I love the new music and manners of "doing church", I also appreciate anew the hymns and highly structured worship of the Reformed church in which I was raised. I do not adopt some of their doctrinal stands, but my sense of oneness with these bodies of believers has been restored.

The Lord caused some verses from Isaiah to come to mind as I've been mulling over these things. "Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness and who seek the Lord: Look to the rock from which you were cut and to the quarry from which you were hewn" Isaiah 51:1. There is no escape, I have been cut from the rock of the Christian Reformed Church, but more poignant and pressing is that I've been hewn from the quarry of Christ. Denominational differences are harped on way too often, the question at hand is are we listening to the Lord and looking to the Rock of our salvation?

Excuse me while I ponder these thoughts a little closer to the beckoning flames of the woodstove.