A Weekend in Pictures

Starting a new form of communication and hoping that a point and shoot camera combined with picnik will do the trick. Enjoy!

 
FRIDAY

Rolo icecream and chocolate sauce shared with a dear friend

SATURDAY

Right across the street

Patterns in the snow

In my yard

Lovin' the contrast...

Work (hers are the brown gloves, mine are the blue)

The bike that makes transport possible {oh, I love the stares and looks that we get!}

More patterns... (a ladder)

Eating homemade pumpkin pie (made by J) while doing homework

Roasted pumpkin seeds... so good!

 SUNDAY

Making crepes with the little bro

 Didn't turn out perfect, but still tasted great...

LOVELY lasagna.... makes me so happy!

Skyping with R (friend who I grew up with in Cameroon)

Have a great weekend!

Stretch

I've been stretched a lot recently, in many varying ways. I feel like a ball of tortilla dough being rolled to different corners in the hope that I will eventually round out.

Thursday was nerve-racking. Mix together one unprepared Band and choir, a flute that stopped functioning, a band director who was always forgetting to get me another one, having a Colombia meeting that morning and therefore feeling a little scrambled, and walaah... you have my Thursday.

Thankfully, a new flute arrived in time for me to put it together, play a few scales and perform. Yikes. There were also mistakes and glitches in performances, a crowd that giggled at the bumps and people who were new to each program.

But it happened, and getting used to having a new Band and Choir director is easier every day.

Then, English class. Mix together Hamlet, me and my friend M, a group assignment, and her choice of the operatic duet (picture: "Please?? Christy, please!!!" "Fine...."), minor preparation, a CD that was burned with the theme song to the Phantom of the Opera only minutes prior to class, dressing up, and not being able to hear the music and therefore turning it into a gong show. Yes.

Next, this last Saturday. Now, I love my job, don't get me wrong. But expecting to work five hours (the most I had every worked in one stretch with her - normally it's around 3), and then getting it changed to around eight hours? A lot of learning. Huge learning curves, having to work through frustrations with sign languages, having a messed up nap time and bed time (my own fault) and having to detail all the mistakes I had made at the end to her parents (so they would know what was going on... she still wasn't asleep).

Humbling... all of it.

I like my plans, my agenda, my spic and span life, and the way that I think things should go. Perfectly rational, I tell myself. Until He shows up. Ohh.... that sometimes brings me to a screeching halt.

He doesn't want me to be comfortable. Never. Ever.

And I constantly fight that. At every corner, He's dragging me, fighting tooth and nail to stay where I am. But He loves me too much to let me stay where I am. I'm thankful. It hurts. I learn. I grow.

And as soon as I think it's getting easier, He throws something else on my plate. Loverly...

But I wouldn't want it any other way.

Magical

Rewind six years. Picture a little ten-year old Christy running around, twirling in the front yard under the sprinkling snow. It had been four years since I had last seen this white, chilling stuff known as snow flakes. Mysterious little flakes that landed and then disappeared, but at other times piled up to become huge snow banks.

Christmas in Cameroon is so different than here. I grew up singing Jingle Bells in 30 degree weather, for goodness sake. It's still celebrated, but in a completely different fashion. The missionary families were the only ones with Christmas trees up and gifts under them.

Shopping for those gifts was half the excitement of the season. Piling into the Land Cruiser, we would travel to the nearest town (about 40-ish minutes away in dry season) and arrive at the outdoor market. As soon as you arrive, your ears are full of vendors' cries, the smell of frying food, the bright colors of plastics and people moving everywhere.

You squeeze among the congested pathways inbetween vendors selling everything from underwear to luggage. The tricky thing is to switch off parents at the right time, so nobody completely knows what you're buying. Plus, then you don't get ripped off because you're white.

But my best memories of Christmas was dancing madly to the Nutcracker and making up my own ballerina moves. I thought that I was so unbelievably cool.

Now, zoom back to present. I've lived here three years. If I was interview myself for each of those three years:

First year: "Magical! I mean, snow... what a concept! It really isn't coconut shavings after all!"

Second year: "Sweet... I get to wear a coat to school and walk/beg a ride (please read the sarcasm into this). It'll only last a whole six months of the year. Maybe I'll get to do a Winter Olympics Theme for my birthday (which is in March), like I did in Grade six!"

Third/this year: "Are you SERIOUS!?! Okay, snowflakes are cool and all... but really??? Flip-flops, runners, you are now condemned into the shed. Fuzzy sweaters and boots, your time has come..."

Once again, the old adage "Familiarity breeds contempt" comes into play. Even though I've only lived here for three years, the snow is starting to grate on my nerves.

I'm learning to take a step back and to realize how amazing it really is. I mean, seriously? Snow! What a cool concept, God!

This Christmas, I want my amazement and credulity to be not only at the snow and the changes in nature all around, but also to what the season focuses on.... Him. Now, that is truly magical.

Passion

It's been growing gradually. Taking over my heart. Moment by moment, smile by smile, incident by incident. It's only now, as I read a *blog post* that challenged my very core, that I was faced with something breathtaking. I have been given a passion.

I have always cared for others. I love to work in the background, surprising others by anticipating their needs and fulfilling them. But now a new kind of care has been placed on my heart. One that has snuck up on me, and yet is not a huge surprise.

A passion for the helpless.

They're all around.

Everywhere you look.

Helpless in different ways, but helpless none the less. I've gravitated to a certain brand, however. Those sometimes completely misunderstood because of their differences. Disabilities.

I say it again... disabilities.

I raked leaves at her house today, and it wasn't very long before she was knocking on the window, wanting to see me. She had seen my bike, it was revealed. Her arms opened wide, and she hugged. Oh, does she ever hug. She's the perfect height for it, too. She nestles right in and we just stand there, my head upon hers and my heart feeling oh, so happy.

Why? Because of a passion.

A passion to see the inside, that spark in her eyes, to dig it out and to hold it up proudly to everyone around. A passion to help others see what I see.

I read her *blog post*, having already heard it once. But this time it dug down deeper. Now having worked with someone that requires digging out and refining, I can only appreciate this program so much more. PLEASE read her post, because she puts it so much more eloquently than I could ever say. I will be contributing, if that's the least that I can do.

I logged onto FB, and the very first thing that met my eyes was the encouraging news that one of my classmate's younger sibling's adoption was coming along swiftly. I smiled and replied enthusiastically. But it wasn't just because one more kid was to be given a home to grow up and feel safe in.

It was because he has Down Syndrome. I can just imagine the love and safety that that family holds for one such as him, and I just want to wrap my arms around him, to watch him grow, to see him triumph, to see him LIVE.

A passion.

It scares me. To the VERY CORE. What might a passion do to me? I had it all planned out, little as the planning was. I was going to be normal, follow safe routines, not drop any surprises.

But this? This opens up a door to so much more. Where might this lead me?

I'm almost scared that He's answering my question of "What do you want me to do?" Scared and yet terrifically excited.

Cheerio!

Top o' the morning/afternoon/evening to you, Mr. R.! Glad to see that you've made it this far... (ooo... that rhymed).

To get to my portfolio, please click on the "Literacy Portfolio" page link up above, but before you go, there are some things that you should know (the rhyming is an epidemic!). Except for the items that are included, the rest of the items are through links on the web. Whenever a title is in a slightly different color, you can click on it to get to the link.

To make sure that this is apparent, I will also write the word "link" in the explanation of what you will find. Although I will mention what my item is inside of my rationale, I will also put a small parentheses statement before the rationale to let you know what the item is and how it is represented.

I think that's all... Enjoy some chocolate-chip brownies as you peruse!

~Christy