How Fredrick the Gingerbread Rabbit saved Christmas

Once upon a time, in a frozen land surrounded by mountains, two women were baking delicious goodies in preparation for the Christmas season.  The gingerbread dough had been lovingly mixed, using an ancient recipe from days when wizards and elves still roamed the lands, handed down, mother to daughter, for endless generations.  Perhaps some of the ancient magic still lingered around, for when the dough had been cut, decorated, and baked, Fredrick the Rabbit suddenly found himself conscious of being.

"Who am I?  Where am I?  And who in the world thought of making gingerbread into a rabbit shape for Christmas?!"  His tiny gingerbread brain whirling with first thoughts, he looked around with his one eye.  Unfortunately, having never seen anything before, he had no idea what he was seeing now.  Having no discernible limbs, he was not able to stumble to his feet, but he found he was able to scoot a little, so he began to scoot along the surface he was on.  

He was scooting along merrily when suddenly he felt something pushing against him.  Finding that he could speak, in spite of the limitations of his gingerbread voice box, he spoke: "Hello?  Someone there?"

"Cluck, cluck, cluck," another voice answered.  

"Hmm," he thought.  "They must not speak ginger-rabbit."  Cleverly switching to the trade language of all gingerbread creatures (gingerese) he tried again.  "Hello?  Who are you?"

This time the answer came back in oddly accented gingerese, "Hello? I am Henrietta the gingerbread hen.  Who are you?"

Fredrick tried to smile engagingly as he answered, but found it impossible without a mouth.  "I am Fredrick, the gingerbread rabbit!"

"A pleasure to meet you sir, though a rabbit is hardly a common gingerbread creature to come across."  Henrietta sniffed with a sense of superiority.

"Well, a hen is hardly usual at Christmas time either," retorted Fredrick.

It might have turned into a full-fledged argument if they had not been interrupted at that moment by a loud sniffle.  Looking around with their sugar eyes they saw this:

Henrietta gasped.  "Are you a wolf? Please don't eat me!"

A low moan escaped the creatures gingerbread lips.  "No, I'm not a wolf.  I was meant to be a reindeer but the person making me carelessly allowed my antlers to fall off.  So now I'm Caleb, the gingerbread dog, and I'm just as much of a Christmas misfit as either of you.  Plus, I don't even have an eye so I can't even cry about it."

As Henrietta and Fredrick scooted closer to Caleb in an attempt to offer him some form of comfort, they heard a small "quack!"

"I beg your pardon!" said Fredrick who had felt one of his ears jab something.

"You really must watch where you put those things," a small, squeaky, and yet pompous voice replied.  "I," it continued, "am Handel, the gingerbread duck."

Fredrick felt an appalling compulsion to giggle at this ostentatious pronouncement but quickly stifled it.  While he was choking back his mirth, Caleb, showing a surprising amount of curiosity for a gingerbread dog with no eye, questioned, "What an odd name.  Why are you so called?"

The duck put his bill in the air proudly, "As you no doubt realize, ducks are not associate with Christmas.  Handel the composer, however, is.  Thus, by calling myself Handel I find a way to fit into this Christmas environment."

The other gingerbread animals tried to applaud this display of brilliance but found that they had no hands and so gave up on that show of support.  They were debating the wisdom of all changing their names to reflect a more Christmas-y spirit when they noticed one more gingerbread creature scooting up to their group.  They looked at him expectantly.

"Hi!  I'm Ian the gingerbread donkey!" said Ian the gingerbread donkey.

"My, what a friendly fellow you are," said Henrietta.

Fredrick glanced at him suspiciously.  "You look more like a horse to me," he said.

Ian snorted.  "My name is Ian," he said, "which pretty much means I'm a donkey."

"Oh.  Good point."

Fredrick looked around.  He wasn't sure how a rabbit became a leader of a gang of gingerbread creatures, but that was clearly what had happened.  He made his first pronouncement as a leader: "Friends, country-men, fellow gingerbread misfits!  Clearly we have been called into existence for a reason!  Christmas must need saving!  And we will save it!"

Caleb looked confused. "What, exactly, is Christmas, and how, exactly, does one go about saving it?"

No one answered.  They all glanced around uneasily, unwilling to admit that none of them had any clue how to answer those questions.

Handel glared knowingly at Caleb. "I know what Christmas is, but I don't have the time or patience to explain it to you fools."  He sniffed, as if to show off his superior nostrils.

The confused silence was broken by Henrietta, who had just broken up with her boyfriend, Roger the Rooster.  She thought that maybe saving Christmas could have something to do with getting revenge on him.  They all pictured that for a moment...

...and then decided that whatever Christmas was, it probably had very little to do with sticking knives through a fake man in search of catharsis.  Henrietta was a little sad that her idea had been rejected, but recovered quickly when they visited a huge Christmas tree and Handel the duck asked her out on a date.

With that crisis averted, Ian the donkey took a moment to ponder.  "Hmm...." he thought.  "We are all sort of barn animals...and I seem to somehow know that the first Christmas took place in a stable or something.  Maybe we should visit our roots."  He shared this thought with the other gingerbread animals.  Fortunately, none of them recognized the incongruity of having gingerbread animals in a barnyard so they set off to make Ian's idea a reality.

Though they nearly froze their gingerbread ears and tails off as they tramped about the snow of the barnyard, they realized how blessed they were to be alive in a world where God had become flesh, and how fortunate they were to have a gingerbread "family" to be with during the season.

And with that, feeling confident that they had saved Christmas at last, they rode off into the sunset.

...they may have also been eaten, as tends to happen with gingerbread...

The Christmas Stroll

Here in Bozeman, the annual Christmas stroll is as much a part of Christmas as...these decorations:

I believe at one point the city of Bozeman tried to dispose of these decorations.  I mean, let's be honest, they're old, kind of scraggly, and THEY LOOK LIKE GIANT INVERTED SPIDERS. Public outcry was so great, however (probably from crazy people like me who can't feel like it's really Christmas without them), that the lighted spiders still appear every year, suspended between buildings on Main Street.

The feeling of the stroll is a lot like the Jerusalem Light Festival (for those of you who experienced that), just smaller and waaaayyy colder.

Yes.  That's Fahrenheit.  Luckily, it stayed above zero this year.  Some strolls aren't so warm.  

The stroll kicks off around 4:30.  Detours go up earlier in the day, forcing all traffic away from Main Street as different organizations set up their booths to sell a variety of food and (hot) drinks.  

Katie enjoys a "Big Apple" from the Leaf and Bean

Things don't really start hopping until after dark, when the spiders have been lit for the night and the cold begins to seep into one's bones.

Notice a lot more people in this picture than the previous one.

Some highlights from this year include (but are not limited to):
Alpacas!

 A living Christmas tree handing out candy.

 Gingerbread houses.  I think this one was my favorite.  The look of stone work and stained glass reminded me of Israel.  Also, the whole square-castle-surrounded-by-a-moat look reminded me of Belvoir.

 This creative contraptions that roasted marshmallows.

 A nod to Hanukkah.  (Chag Hanukkah Sameach!)

 A Living Nativity.  It was good, really, but having spent last Christmas in Israel, and Christmas Eve in Bethlehem, I had to laugh.  The picture of the nativity commonly held here is NOTHING like reality.  Well, both have a baby.  I guess that's something.

 A lady and her sheep.

 Turkey legs!

 There were, of course, the usual number of run-ins between dogs and meltdowns by overly tired and cold children, but overall it was a good stroll.  And now it officially feels like Christmas time.

Questions

This semester I've been TAing a class on Genesis where one of the major emphases has been on learning to ask good questions.  Accordingly, one of the most recent quizzes I graded required the students to ask three good questions about Genesis 26.  As I read through the questions I found that a good number of students had similar questions about verses 16-25:

And Abimelech said to Isaac, “Go away from us, for you are much mightier than we.”  Then Isaac departed from there and pitched his tent in the Valley of Gerar, and dwelt there.  And Isaac dug again the wells of water which they had dug in the days of Abraham his father, for the Philistines had stopped them up after the death of Abraham. He called them by the names which his father had called them.  Also Isaac’s servants dug in the valley, and found a well of running water there.  But the herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s herdsmen, saying, “The water is ours.” So he called the name of the well Esek, because they quarreled with him.  Then they dug another well, and they quarreled over that one also. So he called its name Sitnah.  And he moved from there and dug another well, and they did not quarrel over it. So he called its name Rehoboth, because he said, “For now the LORD has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.”  Then he went up from there to Beersheba.  And the LORD appeared to him the same night and said, “I am the God of your father Abraham; do not fear, for I am with you. I will bless you and multiply your descendants for My servant Abraham’s sake.”  So he built an altar there and called on the name of the LORD, and he pitched his tent there; and there Isaac’s servants dug a well. 


The students noticed that
1. Isaac was mightier than Abimelek and
2. The disputed wells were all on land that God had promised to give Abraham and his descendants.
Therefore, they wondered, why didn't Isaac exercise his might and right and simply fight for control of the land?

It's a valid question, though I find its implications rather disturbing.  (Before I enumerate why, allow me to say that I in no way mean to criticize the students for asking it.)

There are two implications to this question which really stand out to me:
1. Might makes right.  If we have the ability to take what we want, there is no reason we shouldn't do so.
2. Having God on your side gives you more rights than others.
Both of these have interesting religious and cultural significance which I'd like to examine further.

1. Might makes right.
a. While this (hopefully) does not reflect Christianity as much, it does seem to reflect many of the cultural values alive and well in America today.  Look out for number one.  We're often encouraged to take what we can, without regard for how our actions may affect those around us.
b. I think this, especially in the context of Genesis 26, also indicates how far our lives are removed from war here in America.  It's easy for us to say, "Why didn't Isaac fight?" when we can't picture the suffering that would have resulted from such a feud, on both sides.  Isaac may have won in the end, but at a huge cost.  Some may argue that God might have helped Isaac win without loss of life on his side, which leads well into the second point.

2. God on our side.
This is a touchier subject, especially since the context of the passage leads pretty easily to a comparison to modern Israel.  Therefore, before I start, I offer the disclaimer that I don't intend this as criticism of Israel or the Jewish people.
a. As Christians, I think it is easy for us to look at the Bible and say something like, "Oh, God says this is wrong.  Let's go stop it!  After all, God is on our side."  Generally this results in disaster.  Some examples might include prohibition, or the modern political fight against homosexuality or abortion.  While I would agree that drunkenness, homosexuality, and abortion are all wrong, I am not sure that legislation is the best way to impose our values.  And, in spite of our conviction that "God is on our side," such legislation seems to fail pretty regularly.  Sometimes this conviction comes out in other ways, like with angry people leaving rude theological comments on blog posts, so convinced that they are right and "God is on my side."  As if we have a God-given right to be rude and offend people.
b. I think this also reflects on many Christians' attitudes towards Israel and Palestine.  "The land was promised to Abraham and his descendants.  Therefore, the Palestinians have no right to be there."  Such oversimplifications are common and bother me considerably.  At the very least they forget that Abraham and his descendants were to be a blessing to those around them and that they were to take care of strangers.  More than that, though, such an attitude totally fails to take into account reality.  Do the Jews have a right to the land?  Maybe so, but that does not negate the fact that much of that land is currently occupied by a different ethnic group who have their own rights as humans.  I think that sometimes we forget that the God who gave such promises to Abraham is the same God who said, "Love your neighbor."  Living here in America, far removed from everything over there it's as easy for us to say "Isaac should have just fought Abimelek" as to say "The Jews should have all the land and push out the Palestinians" and ignore all the possible negative consequences of such actions.  Abimelek and the Palestinians may not be part of the promised people, but they are not impervious to salvation either and therefore still deserve our consideration.

To sum up, I think it is far too easy for us to simplify both Biblical and modern situations and make judgments without stopping to consider all the facts.  If I may suggest, let's try to take time and listen to both sides and consider the consequences before we jump into foolish action.

The Adventures of Pinky Finger

Once upon a time there was a little pinky finger.  He was enjoying the bright sunshine one day (collecting lots of vitamin D) and enjoy the feeling of the wind in the sparse hair that covered his back when suddenly, with no warning, he was thrown against a hard surface.  For a moment he felt nothing.  Then the kindly eyes looked down at him and the brain sent him a message: something was terribly wrong, he was at least dislocated, if not broken.  He felt a moment of panic but quickly calmed himself.  

After much attention from doctors and about a week of healing he looked like this:

Now, almost completely healed, he would like to give you his personalized holiday greetings:

1. The unbaked turkey-finger (with stuffing) and the baked turkey-finger want to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving!

2. Rudolph, the red-nailed finger-deer wants to wish you a Merry Christmas!

3. He also wants to mention that finger piercings are now the totally in thing and he thinks everyone will be getting them soon.

Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past

I guess there's something about holidays that tends to trigger memories.  Maybe its the observation of long-held traditions that remind us of past years.  Perhaps it's especially prevalent at Thanksgiving as we are asked to reflect on the past year and share what we're thankful for?

Whatever the reasons, I have found myself reflecting on the many differences between this Thanksgiving and last.

1. Last year I was in Israel, this year I'm in Montana.  (There's quite a bit more snow here.  More elk too.)

2. Last year at this time my house had been invaded by seven family members, including a niece...they just were my flatmate's family members, not my own.  

This year my house has been invaded by three of my own family members, including a nephew (with about ten other family members occasionally dropping by).  Both invasions were/are very welcome.  Family is a great blessing.  

3. Last year I celebrated Thanksgiving with my sister and several other JUC students, most of whom I'd only known a couple months.

 This year I celebrated with my mother, father, sister, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, along with some cousins and family friends I've known most of my life.

4. Last year, just for the sake of tradition, my sister and I did a little calculus.

This year we managed to avoid that tradition, but we did experiment with building better windmill-like devices.  What can I say?  We're a bunch of geeks.  

Between now and then much has changed, and I do have much to be thankful for.  For example, I'm thankful for the time that I got to spend in Israel and I'm thankful that I graduated!  However, as I think of things I'm thankful for, I find many hints of the bitter-sweet.  

~ I'm thankful for the good friends that I made while in Israel, and I'm thankful for things like skype and facebook which allow us to keep in touch...as we are literally spread across the globe and I miss them.

~ I'm thankful that I was offered a volunteer position at JUC...though visa difficulties have made it impossible for that opportunity to come to fruition yet and have sort of thrown me into limbo.

~ I'm thankful for another fall in Montana - a beautiful one at that - and I'm thankful to see snow and cold here, though it is not where I would have chosen to be.

I am reminded a little of Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:7-10

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited.  Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me.  But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I am not going to hypothesize about what Paul's "thorn in the flesh" was, nor am I going to claim a similar situation, but I think I am beginning to understand some of what he must have been feeling.  Things are not all bad, but for the first time I can remember, I've made plans and been unable to follow through.  Just a sudden brick wall.  I  can understand that such an experience is probably good for me in general, I just wish I understood a few more of the specifics.  However, I'm trying to cling to the grace of God, in spite of my confusion.  To summarize:

~ I'm thankful for a God who is still at work in my life, though, at the moment, I don't understand what He's doing.  

Winter

There is nothing quite like winter in Montana.  Each change in weather is like a mood swing, each revealing a little more of the personality of the season.   

Some nights the snow falls: thickly, silently drifting to earth.  Sound pollution, never much, is deadened to almost nothing.  Everything is silent and still.  The ambient light is increased as the cloud cover and each individual flake reflect back everything they catch.  The reddish glow and stillness make one feel small and alone and glad to have a cozy fire to snuggle up to inside.  

Occasionally the winter displays a streak of perversity (and sometimes artistry), contriving to fight against gravity and other held conventions to create unique and bizarre structures of ice and snow (like this inverted ice-cycle).

Though one would imagine the color palate would be more limited in the winter with the pervasive whiteness, in reality the white often serves as a palate where all the colors of the rainbow can dance and play in ways not seen in other seasons.  

After days of clouds and snow, the sun rose this morning on a sparkling winter wonderland.  With the temperature hovering around zero (Farenheit), the air was crisp and clear.  The frost clung to the trees with determined tenacity, causing them to light up and twinkle when the sun hit them. 

Later in the afternoon specks of pixy dust chased each other through the air, glittering and sparkling, making the world seem like a living snow globe.

 The pictures, of course, do not do justice to the sparkling splendor of the air, but you can catch a glimpse of the sparkles, especially in the shaded places.

A glorious but capricious mistress is winter, clothed in splendor one minute, trying to freeze the life out of everything the next.  Beautiful and terrible - but much less terrible with a warm fire, a cup of hot chocolate, and a good book.

Historic Quilt

Family history is a subject of which I seem to know very little.  The more I learn of it, the more I realize there is to know.  Still, I pick up pieces here and there.  One of my more recent acquisitions included a tactile experience.   

If I got the story right, this quilt was given to my mother by her grandmother (or possibly by a great aunt...I'll need to check my sources.)

The note that accompanies the quilt (partially pictured above), though difficult to decipher, tells the story of the quilt.  "It was made by my mother (name) and my grandma (name) in about 1886 out of my dad's brother (name) army blankets of Shilo."  Just in case any question remains, part of the note clarifies: these were blankets used by soldiers during the Civil War.

I think that is one thing I enjoyed so much about Israel - being able to see, touch, and feel history.  There is very little of that in Montana where most history doesn't go back more than 200 years tops.  Sometimes you can find arrowheads that might be a bit older, but that's pretty much the limit.  This quilt is no where near as old as some of the ruins I saw in Israel, but it's still a clue to the past, a picture of what life was like then, a reminder that the men who used those blankets and the women who sewed them together were as real and as human as you or I.  

First Snow

It came, following hard on the heels of days of 60 degree weather.  When I went to bed the temperature was still well above freezing; when I got up, the landscape had changed.  It snowed all day and into the night, blanketing the ground with the purity of its whiteness, clothing newly nude branches in bridal splendor.  When the sun showed its face again, the brilliance was something to behold.  

Having cleverly avoided winter for the better part of two years, it was a sight I had missed.

I took the opportunity to make my first snow-angel in years.  I think I need to work on my technique a little. :)

Autumn

I really can't get over what a spectacular fall it's been here.  It's almost as if God said, "Alana, I know you don't really want to be here right now, but I'm going to make it so beautiful that it will be almost impossible for you to not enjoy it."  Perhaps a bit fanciful, but that has indeed been the case.  Sunny days, blue skies, yellow leaves, bluish mountains, golden brown fields...

It may not have the reds and oranges that make fall memorable in other places, but it's the most brilliant fall I've seen here for years.  It's made me wish that I were a poet so that I could more fully do justice to the feelings it evokes in me, to be able to describe the crisp, fragrant air, the whiff of cottonwood sap, the scent of gently decaying leaves tantalizing the nostrils.  Unfortunately, since smells and feelings cannot be properly captured, I must content myself with pictures, though these also don't do justice to the season.  

I never get tired of looking out my window to the cottonwoods at the end of our pasture and the Spanish Peaks beyond them.  Sometimes the gold leaves and blue mountains shimmer under the fluffy white clouds that float in a peerless blue sky.  

Sometimes the mountains are shrouded in clouds and snow.

 And sometimes it's a mixture.

Oddly enough, though, that is about as close as the snow has come.  Halloween came and went without a snowstorm or freezing temperatures, a happenstance that is almost unheard of.  The unseasonably warm temperatures even allowed me to take a trip up into the mountains...

...to this waterfall.

 It may not hold the record for "tallest" or "widest" or "most water," but I tend to think it's quite spectacular.

I think the forecast calls for snow soon, though.  I've managed to adjust to autumn fairly well; we'll see how I do with winter!