I would like to go back. I had joy for the first day of Christmas in the organization that I call home and now that the accusations fly, the disharmony around who gets what toy, the burden of the hurts of this season being felt all too strongly in the community… I wish I was back on the beach.

We didn’t talk for the first half. Just sat and watched as the waves pounded for four days… and then there was a little of this, that and surfing.

In a nutshell (a hollow empty one that was smashed to pieces by a christmas spiritless nutcracker… jk) Costa Rica was really great. The laid back vibe of the surfing villages, the epic waterfall hike that could have ended in death if my life was a tragedy (but I choose to think of it as a comedy so hopefully mine will end with a big wedding with lots of dancing) (oh, and the death could have come by giant poisonous spider the size of my entire open hand, moving at the speed of light in the middle of giant costa rican hill, 2 hours into the middle of nowhere)…. it was all great. Lots of wildlife… this raccoon was tenacious, had a limp and insisted on eating any food that we were eating. Kind of like a pet dog.

The stand off ended when it had backed us into the little house, it limped up a chair and onto our table (!) and then burned its little face on a candle. We won! And I don’t really think of raccoons as ‘wildlife’ but there was a lot of other real wildlife, including a creature that looked like a combination of a pig/rat with the legs of a deer (but shorter). When there’s more time, I’ll share all the pictures.

I’m off to be a Christmas Elf but instead of carols ringing in my hollow little mind, all I hear are pounding waves. Sigh.

Every Tuesday for a couple of hours I volunteer at a local mission called the Warehouse teaching literacy to adults who have found home in several rooming houses in a nearby alley. I initially joined Tim in his volunteering pursuit over a year ago in order to consolidate some of our time. Some Tuesdays are a bit of a slog, I can’t lie (although I’m sure I could if I tried hard enough… or even a little.) Sometimes though, if the stars align just so, Tuesday afternoons can be a gift.

Last week, after working through the minutiae of sentence structure with Sharon, I moved to sit with Howard and we spent some time working through Psalm 23. He would stop and stutter at some of the bigger words but we patiently plodded through it several times. He was getting ready to read it in the Sunday church service and he asserted that it was extremely important for him to know how to pronounce all the words. “Now what’s this?” He asked me as we neared the end of the Psalm. He was pointing at the word ‘presence.’ “Why does it not have an S on the end of it?”

We pulled out a sheet of loose leaf paper and proceeded on a half hour journey that was decidedly more difficult than it should have been. Howard has a big laugh, a misplaced sense of wit and is never short on words. He likes to talk. Howard’s favourite phrase is “Let’s say…” As in…

“Let’s say, I get you a gift.”

“Okay…”

“One gift is spelled like this: P R E S E N T.”

“Correct.”

“Now let’s say it’s two or three gifts, say I get you flowers and chocolate (he smirks)… it’s P R E S E N T S.” In his scrawling pencil scratch, he lays the word down. He is very proud. My turn.

“Right Howard. Now ‘let’s say’ that I was taking attendance. I was reading off a list of names and we get to you. You would say…

“…I’m here.”

“No, try again.” He raises his hand expectantly, as if he’s a ten year old in school. “Howard?”

“Right here!”

“No. (sigh) How about the word… Present?”

“Ahhhh.”

“So now let’s take that word – present-”

“- Right, a gift. One gift.”

“No, not a gift… being present.”

I tried it from several angles. After 10 more minutes Howard is beside himself in frustration. So much so that he pulls out the “I’m not going to yell at you because you’re a lady” comment which was awesome in it’s own right. And finally…

“Okay, how about this. I am sitting with you – Howard. I am present with Howard. Howard, whose presence are you sitting in?”

“Yours?”

And this conversation repeated itself around gifts, the use of the plural, and the concept of “presence.” After the light bulb had finally clicked, Howard pulled the paper and the Bible towards himself and scratched out “I am setting in God’s presence.” (meaning sitting.)

And it became liturgical as it was written out several more times – I am setting in God’s presence. Howard’s demeanor calmed and his frustration smoothed and the sheer volume of his voice started to lower.

After assuring and promising Howard that I would come and listen to him read Psalm 23 on the Sunday he was set to read it, I left with his repetitive, constant voice in my ear – I am sitting in God’s presence. Truly one of the best bible studies of my year to date.

Am I the same person that was so deeply convicted and moved to share a few weeks ago? I can’t find that girl. I’m pretty sure she’s been hiding in the back corner of Terrio’s for the better part of the last week. The optimism has been replaced by resigned and quiet (and slightly realistic and dull) truth of the day to day.

love’s mysteries in soules doe grow. ~ john donne, 1500s ish.

I am still convinced that alcohol free is the way to go this year and while at a couple of moments have asked myself WHY???!, those times come and go and I know it’s true but blah… I’m better for staying true to my commitment. I see myself lacing up the pointe shoes I was never good enough to actually dance in, tripping along this thin edge of the line where I call myself a fundamentalist. Obedience is never a straightforward stroll on a quiet evening. You may head out the door with expectations  but hey… who’s that walking down the other side of the street? A very real distraction? There are always times where the firm and determined choice made in one climate may start to look a bit gray and fuzzy at times when the pressures take shape in a new way around you.

The questions that this whole cross cultural experiment is raising for me are the good and big ones. It does not only point out in how many circumstances a drink is an integrated part of the social dance (horseshow tavern – saw “the junction”, loved them – with nothing but my overcoat in my hand) but it shows me how quick I am to distract myself from important conversations and tasks. This shaping into maturity and adulthood is ugly. I hate seeing the truth of how much I’ve wasted in the last ten years.

In other musings, this weekend concludes the trifecta of family visits from California. Mathias is the best brother one could hope would pop into a family somewhat accidentally five years after you. (justkiddingfi!! weloveyou!!) We did some fun stuff. Including: making Grandma Schmidt’s DOUGHNUTS! I’m all for making memories with siblings. This was one for the books.

Thinking that this might be easier in a kitchen with a large farmhouse table.

Clearly one of the top three connector engineers in the world came up with a clever doughnut cutting solution.
His talents are so wasted working for Apple.

Sure do love these two.