It’s the day after Christmas, and in the wake of the bustle of parties and get-togethers and present opening, I sit, breathing in and out, slowly, on my couch. It’s a blessed relief to be here, with events of the day to make a dinner for friends who just welcomed their fifth child into the world a short time ago, and the other task to continue to write a paper and reflect on this past semester. I’ve slept in for the past 2 days, and oh, what a difference that makes in my whole outlook on life and feeling. Blessed relief!
Yesterday morning I rolled out of bed and into what Dave has coined “soup”. The air outside resembles cream of potato soup I suppose, and going for a run in it (my first in too many weeks) was quite difficult on my body and lungs. Christmas morning in TJ, like every other morning, is always a sight to see. The pavement is slick with dew and grease, sounds of traffic and callers fill the air. The bird men (men with their caged birds who come to the canal every day to stand post and listen to their pets) were out again, lingering beside the frozen water with birds in tow. An occasional pile of garbage blocked the path, and we jumped over it or skirted around. We jogged/walked the 6 miles of my old running route, and I recalled with my breath and movement the pains of beginning to run again. Uhhgg, the pains of movement!
Speaking of long movements, I listened to Luke’s version of the Christmas event a couple of different times in the last few days and thought about what it was like for a pregnant 14 or 15 year old girl to ride a donkey many miles and finally give birth to her son in the animals’ quarters. I really wonder what she must have felt, with the knowledge what dwelt within her, truly she knew the meaning of the world “Emmanuel” before the world had a clue as she carried God in her womb. And trekked miles over the desert landscape on the back of a donkey. It must have been a momentous journey for her, and certainly one filled with questions and uncertainties for her betrothed husband Joseph. Who was the miracle that grew in her womb? What kind of king was he to become? What on earth was God doing in this place? It seems like he came into the middle of the markets and the mystery, the dung and the diamond-studded skies. This Emmanuel, wrapped up in skin and bone, God with us, came in the middle of our world and walked down our own paths, through the soupy sky, and loved us. No wonder the realization of his advent sends shivers down my spine. God moved in to this world! And we still walk, sometimes with weary lives, down his paths.
My parents come at the end of the week (hopefully, if they get their passport glitches taken care of) and it’s bound to be eventful from the time they arrive until Dave’s mom and bro leave a few days shy of a month later. For now, I sit in this room, breathing, typing and listening to what sounds like a cricket hidden somewhere in this apartment… And enjoying the time to do this.
Yesterday, as well as the past few days, have been such special ones. My first Christmas with Dave, and with the people here in this place. We celebrated Christmas Eve with Mike, Kristen, Steffen, Abigail, and Anna Pollock, loving every minute of it—and then visited with our other friends for a little while. Last night we also ate with the Smith family and visited other friends. Yesterday afternoon, after cleaning up from our run we ate, and exchanged gifts for one another. One of Dave’s gifts to me was a web-cam to “talk” in person on Skype, and the other, a very special collage of the past few months. I was able to put it on camera for Kim and Patrick and P’s words were something like “does Dave realize he’s really raising the bar?” -- I agree. Once again, I’ve been given a gift I could never dream of or think of how to repay; the gift of God’s first love to us, and this year, the gift of a special love from and for Dave that I can only receive with His grace. I am thankfully blessed.
Merry Christmas!
