Skip to main content

Christmas Memories

Ok, so they are not exactly memories per se, rather glimpses of Christmas here in Ceiba this past week...and by glimpses I mean a shot of the church and host of shots from the Youth Group Christmas dinner this past Sunday...I'm losing my touch as a crack photographer. I spent my Christmas holiday in church, at Marla's house and holed up in my home on the 25th, cleaning like a madman, drinking coffee by the gallon and singing through the Christmas section of the Mennonite Hymnal. It was a little different to be sure but I enjoyed it and was happy for a few days of rest and relaxation.

I have to be honest when I say I was a mite disappointed with the Christmas Eve Service at Church. We were there for nearly 2 hours and spent 3/4ths of the time singing everyday worship music. I went home that night after my 4-course midnight meal at Marla's and happened upon a Candlelight Service being broadcast out of the First United Methodist Church of Dallas, Texas. While it reminded me of nearly all the reasons why I'm not a Methodist, it did also bring me back to Christmas memories spent at my Grandparents' church at St. John's United Methodist and I got to hear some glorious Christmas Carols...which I was needing.

Preparing for the 1 & 1/2 minute live Nativity Scene in the front of the church.
This was perhaps the fastest sequence of Christ's birth that I've ever seen - they marched up the aisle, posed for some photos and marched off without even so much as narration.

This past Sunday the Youth Group got together at a member's house and had a big Christmas Dinner celebration and Gift Exchange. It was quite a time.

Norman basking in the glow of the Christmas Star...or his own glory, I'm not sure which.

Wishing You & Yours A Frighteningly Red Christmas!

Konrad was given a pair of sandals for his gift...he's laughing out of frustration.
Let me explain - Hondurans make fun of Gringos here because they say we all dress like Hippies and go about like every day is a beach day. One of the hallmarks of a Gringo is their emphatic and ridiculous use of sandals. Thus the gift of yet another pair of sandals is mind-boggling and perplexing. If they don't want us traipsing around town like a pack of Bohemians then why would they buy us more accesories for the get-up?
Hence the laugh.

...and Daddy got a shirt.

Brought my sidekick Christian along for the ride.
You can always tell a party's going well when the guests resort to playing Chinese Checkers and then collapse from the sheer boredom.

Konrad's Cougar Face

Tino is not very bright...and a bit pigheaded too. When we drew names over a month ago he drew his own name but neglected to tell anyone...he was conflicted you see. He's notoriously cheap but also likes to receive gifts. He liked the idea of not having to buy anyone a gift and thereby spend money...that is of course until we arrived at the actual dinner and everyone began to give and receive; except for him. His countenance quickly changed and he became like a little child. So we did what any good friends would do, we made fun of him and took lots of fotos of us trying to "cheer him up" with scrounged up gifts from around the house. We offered him everything from a ceramic egg-holder... Konrad's new sandals and a bag of trash...he was none too pleased.

Norman seemed to get a real kick out of it though.

Surprised/slightly scary Nelson...

...annoyed/slightly nervous Nelson...I prefer the former.
That's all I got for now. I'll keep you posted on how things progress for the New Year.
Peace, Love and such. Chao!
- mlk


Sonia Lim said…
Loved this post! Hope you had a wonderful Christmas :) Tell Norman I said hello! I miss you Mattie!

Popular posts from this blog

Coming to Honduras

The other day in philosophy class I was teaching about existentialism, a philosophy with which I have myriad problems. The universe is absurd, life is meaningless, authenticate yourself with irrational leaps of faith! Hopeless and disconnected from reality if you ask me. Get out of the café Camus, mix with some common folk! Nevertheless, as I was introducing the material I mentioned that the existentialists really probed the questions of Life's meaning and purpose:

"How do I create myself to be unique and significant?" "How do I live an authentic existence?" "How do I give my life meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless universe?"
These seem to be questions that are attendant to societies that possess extreme wealth and privilege and an over-abundance of leisure time. I have serious doubts that 15th Century English peasants or even nobles for that matter, spent much time contemplating how they might make their lives unique or leave a significa…

Art Day

I've been forced into an "art-day" by Girlfriend; against my better judgement I've decided to turn to the only medium that I'm remotely skilled at. It's been far too long since I've written anything of worth and as I sit here, pondering my lack of output in the last 4 years, I'm left wondering if I have anything substantial left to offer to "The Conversation". I think I did once, when my integrity and identity were intact and people were genuinely curious about my life here. For reasons too numerous to count though, not the least of which is my own retreat from reflective thought put down on paper, I can't shake the feeling that I've lost the ability to speak and be heard. Girlfriend and I are reading a book about marriage together given to me by my sister; we take turns reading it aloud to the other and as salient points are read we often stop and discuss our thoughts. Thus far it's been a fairly blithe and carefree romp through…

10 Years In Honduras

My good friend Jessiel Rivera reminded me the other day that it was 10 years ago this month that I arrived here in La Ceiba. I remember my arrival here from Costa Rica fairly vividly. I had been getting teary-eyed on the plane from a combination of sleep deprivation, my longing to remain with my friends in beautiful San Jose and some sad indie music on my iPod. It was a hot and terribly humid Sunday afternoon when I landed in the La Ceiba airport and when I stepped off the 10-seater hotbox of an airplane onto the tarmac I was sweaty, bleary-eyed and disheveled. I looked like a typical gringo backpacker except for my mountain of luggage that I had in tow. Two members of the Central Mennonite Church picked me up in their car; how they knew I was the Gringo they were supposed to collect was beyond me but they got it right. I remember them remarking on the number of suitcases I had brought (3) and their heaviness (maximum weight allowance); and the resulting weight of embarrassment I felt…