Wonderful Indeed

With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you “Be of good cheer”
It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
It’s the hap -happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It’s the hap – happiest season of all

There’ll be parties for hosting
Marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There’ll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of
Christmases long, long ago

It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
There’ll be much mistltoeing
And hearts will be glowing
When loved ones are near
It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Eddie Pola and George Wyle

I’m almost giddy with excitement.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and it’s been three years since I’ve celebrated it with my family.  There’s nothing spectacular about our celebrations, but yet–there is something amazing about sitting around a room with your extended family and sharing what you are most grateful for.  I had great Thanksgivings the past couple of years in Ethiopia–even turkey once! and I will always cherish those memories and most of all the friends I made them with.  Still, I missed sharing Thanksgiving with my family, eating (too much) pie, and family poker.  The past couple of months of school and work have been intense and draining, and I’ve pressed on with the anticipation of Thanksgiving ahead.  Now it’s almost here, and only pathophysiology tonight and a long day at work tomorrow are between now and gathering with crazy family to run the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving morning.

Last week I heard the Salvation Army bell ringers even before I could see the department store entrance; the jingling signaled Christmas season had indeed begun.  We have so much, don’t we?

ding

This morning on the way to church, my friend Laura Christel and I stopped by the gas station to grab some gum.  As the iron-barred door dinged our entrance, I glanced up at the clerk and immediately recognized that she was Ethiopian.  I waited in line, noticing her name tag: Tigist.  Patience.  I placed my Orbit on the counter as I said “Amerigna tichilalesh?” (do you speak amharic?).  Her eyes widened, and flew to my face.  Ow, she said, tichilalesh? (yes, do you speak?).  Just a little, I said.  It’s a lot, she replied in surprise-I’ve never met an American who speaks Amharic.  We talked briefly, and she asked if I thought Ethiopia was beautiful.  Yes, very much, I said.  I love your country.  Then we left, and as the door dinged again, I called over my shoulder, “Egziaber yeebarkish”.  May God bless you.

This tiny, divinely appointed encounter challenged me anew to realize this amazing, diverse world around me.  It’s so easy to get caught up in my demanding schedule and life of grad school and work.  My day, though, is richer because of Tigist.  I don’t want to forget.