It's beginning to look a lot like...

Merry Christmas.

I stepped out of JFK and saw my breath mesh with the cold air. My family members considered the weather warm, but the fifty-degree drop in temperature shocked (and ergo thrilled) my heat-accustomed being.

The highlight of my flight home--other than seeing those lovely smiles and hearing "Welcome home" from the guy at customs--was reading a good chunk of A Severe Mercy. The beauty and grace of Sheldon Vanauken's writing tells the story of a sweet love story between both a man and a woman and a Lord and His bride. I highly recommend reading this man's account of his love, his conversion, and of course his correspondence with a great Christian author.

His text is mildly sentimental; how can I avoid sentiment at a time like this? I return home for Christmas after a grand 4 1/2 month sojourn in Malawi, for a holiday away from work, heat, dust, and goats (read: roadblocks). The house looks and smells of Christmas, accompanied by the music and conversation typical of this time of year. I open gifts given to make my life in Malawi a little easier (read: coffee, socks, and Expo markers). I spend precious times with my very favorite people.

And I remember the grace that sent a baby to a world of dead souls. In that baby was life, and the life was the light of men.

Honestly, though, tough times that have challenged happiness these past few months and a deeper understanding of pain and sorrow in the world--not to mention my own unworthiness of Jesus' peace and goodwill--leave me hesitant to celebrate. Yet how can I but remember the joy, the indescribable joy, that cannot but fill the heart of a Christian at Christmas? There is much to rejoice in this season.

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to. Golden sunlgiht; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious! 

"What's today?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday clothes. 

"Eh?" returned the boy, with all his might of wonder. 

"What's today, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge.  

"Today!" replied the boy. "Why, Christmas Day."  {charles dickens}

An Update on Grace, or, yet another blessing

A few weeks ago, I shared the story of baby Grace, a sweet little orphan from a village nearby. She has been well taken care of since I first met her; she is fed and loved by my friend Grace, as well as by some of her extended family members.

I see and hug her nearly every Sunday, and have been so blessed to watch her grow. She is so precious. In the photo below, she just woke up from a nap and was still adjusting to the light as I stepped out of church--hence the extra large eyes :) She is, I am convinced, the most beautiful baby I have encountered.

Still counting (days and blessings)

I have nine more days to be thankful for here. Gratitude is not coming naturally; I fall quickly into a habit of complaining. I most naturally go and grumble in my heart, even though it may not be spoken aloud: I wish I was in my blue-and-green bedroom with my sister across the room and my dog by my side; I am tired of buying groceries and making sure nothing goes bad I don't like wearing skirts so often; it's so hot. 

But God forgive me, for I have no cause to murmur against the place he's called me to. Isn't it true that when a Christian is most tempted to murmur, she is most able to showcase God's grace through her very dependence on it? It becomes her heart cry to honor God most when her strength is least. The calling God places on his children is high, but he is good to enable us to fulfill it.

"Godliness with contentment is great gain.
     Thou, O man of God, flee these things;
     and follow after righteousness, godliness,
        faith, love, patience, meekness.
Fight the good fight of faith,
    lay hold on eternal life,
    whereunto thou art also called,
    and hast professed a good profession
    before many witnesses," {i timothy 6.6, 11-12}

So still I am grateful. There is a breeze still today; my coffee cup is still full; young Malawians play with and laugh at me when I visit the villages; my housemates are dear sweet friends whom I will truly miss when I go off for the holidays; I had a great time interacting with my fun, smart, kind students yesterday at a fun school event; I am forever loved and cared for by my Lord.

Simple. So much to be thankful for.

Countdown Mode, or, remembering to be grateful still

Two weeks. I can stand anything for two weeks. Two weeks from today, I will be home, well-bundled up against the chilly air, chatting with my sisters and brother and parents and friends, sleeping past five o'clock, wearing my barn jeans (ha), and playing the piano.

As a rule, I abhor and despise being in countdown mode, but that is where I am. After collecting essays from every class, discovering unmarked vocabulary quizzes, losing a flash drive, and realizing I don't have the time to do all the things I want to do, my attitude has been marred by weariness and indifference. After decorating a Christmas tree with a family here, hearing a few extra Christmas songs, receiving my first gift of the year (thank you, sweet housemate), and making a plan to watch It's a Wonderful Life, my desire for home and my sentimentality regarding the holidays have become achingly strong. 

I will leave for home in two days short of two weeks; this means I still have two days short of two weeks to be here, to work, to serve, to teach, to help. I have to remember that there is much for which to praise God here. I have my students who feel free to talk about things that matter in my classroom. Several of the other women on campus have become dear friends, with whom I have been able to spend quality time over the past few weeks. There's a breeze that reaches my classroom and eases the heat. Tomorrow is a non-academic day at school for a school wide swimming competition (translation: early dismissal on a Friday. further translation: greatest gift to teachers). Truly I have no license to be discontent. 

So I will be grateful for each of the twelve days I have left here before the holiday. Twelve days!