Christmas Reflections

If you know me well, you know that I am basically a deeply emotional and passionate person who displays emotion and passion in a very controlled manner.  For the most part I take life as it comes, making the most of situations while trying to make them better as I can.  I try not to let things get me down for long, though I do allow myself the privilege of feeling deep emotion, processing it, and then trying to store it in its proper place in order to allow life to function as it should.

There are major life events, such as separation or death, that present challenges to this approach to life, but all in all, it seems to work for me the majority of the time.  This allows me to focus on the present and the future and to accomplish what I feel I am called to accomplish.

Another interruption to my emotional schedule presents itself at Christmas, specifically the period immediately following Christmas when all of the decorations are being dismantled and stored for another year.  For this brief stint of time, all of my efforts to focus on what I do have, yield to the strong sense of what I don’t have.  All of the recognition of the blessings I have, exchange their position in my thoughts and feelings for the overwhelming reality of the blessings I am missing.  For a brief span, I am reminded of my three children who continue to live life day in and day out without me having the the luxury of getting to be involved up-close and in-person.  I am reminded of my deceased mother, whose friendship is irreplaceable.   I think of days gone by from childhood to the present with all stops and points and people and places along the way. The home that harbored me last week, will haunt me next week. 

Though I may experience some sadness during this time, I do not couple that with regret.  I have told my husband and children on various occasions that when I pass from this life, they can know that I feel God has given me the best at every stage of my life: childhood, high school, college, profession, marriage, children, family, friends, calling.  I am abundantly blessed.

A young friend and I had a discussion the other day in which I stated, “Love makes me cry.”

“Me too!” was her reply.

If I shed a tear or two during this period, it is because of love – love of a savior who gave Himself for me and then added to that so many incredible people and opportunities to experience life to the fullest.  If you know me well, then you know that I love you.  And now you know that today I am thinking about you, missing you, and thanking God for you.

With that expressed, I think that I will store these emotions in a sacred place and embrace the new year with passion and purpose – adding even more people, places, and events to my Christmas thoughts in years to come.

What’s in a Name Anyway?

Americans tend to link their identities so much to their names.  We are taught the importance of knowing other people’s names and acknowledging them by their names.  This is not so in Africa.  It is not uncommon for people to name and re-name themselves, nor is it uncommon for them to know each other for years and not know each other’s full name.  If you misunderstand an introduction and call a person by the wrong name, that is not a problem.

I was reminded of this again this week in talking with a young man that I met when we first came to Malawi.  I thought that he was introduced to me as Vincent.  I see this man on a somewhat-regular basis and always acknowledge him by his name.

This week Vincent was at our house, and after I greeted him, Gaylord asked me why I call him Vincent.  Of course, my answer was that that is his name.  “No, it’s not,” Gaylord said.  “His name is Garnet.”

Garnet?  What?  So I asked Vincent aka Garnet what his name was.  “Garnet,” he said.  I went on to relate how I have always called him Vincent, and he has always answered me.  I wondered why I thought his name was Vincent.  “I don’t know, madam,” was his reply.

In an effort to ease my troubled mind, I pursued the matter a bit further.  I am usually so good about remembering a person’s name because, after all, that is so important to us Americans. “Garnet, I am still trying to figure out why I call you Vincent.  Does anyone ever call you Vincent?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Finally, I knew there was a reason I would make such a blunder. “Who?” I asked.

“You, madam.”

To this, I refer to my blog post title: What’s in a Name Anyway?  End of that discussion with Garnet.

Where Could I Go?

If you listen closely, you will recognize this old hymn: "Where Could I Go But to the Lord?" sung in Chichewa. The response at the end is "God is good - all the time, and all the time - God is good, especially to me, oh my, oh my, oh my, because He is faithful".