This past week the kids had the opportunity to participate in a Christmas "Spectacular" at the Municipal Theater. It was reminiscent of the days that Danny and I participated in the Miami Christmas Pageant as high-schoolers, an experience that was so fruitful for me, that for weeks, we skipped tennis and dance classes so that the kids could attend the bi-weekly rehearsals which took place at a midtown funeral home. I wanted them to have a taste of that experience. And I was also willing to make the late night drives to and from the downtown theater for performances despite heavy traffic, in chilling temperatures and torrential downpours.
And by "I," I really mean my long-suffering husband, who doesn't quite feel my passion for the extraordinary and who, even in his exhaustion and ill humor, was able to contribute "Newt" to the animal alphabet game as we wound our way through Obrajes at 11 pm on the last night. "A Nefarious Newt?" Dominic offered. To go along with Gigi's Mutinous Manatee... Where is this vocabulary coming from???
For months, as the Northern Hemisphere enjoyed its summer traditions, the Bolivian winter just slugged along. I tried not to be envious of the Memorial Day barbecues and summer camps and day trips to the beach that filled my Facebook news feed as we went from day to day fighting the apathy that comes from cold, gray monotony. My life revolved around keeping order at home and keeping Gigi out of trouble. I wasn't challenging myself intellectually; I wasn't investing myself socially. Then I noticed that my short term memory was starting to falter. I was slowing down cognitively, and my rapid-fire multitasking skills were zapped. I couldn't keep track of things. Was it a lack of vitamin D? Was it a lack of sleep? Was it the long term effects of insufficient oxygen? Was it because I had allowed myself to become lazy in my mind and the effects were catching up? God allowed a few things to come into my life in the past few weeks that I feel have revived my brain. One, he brought a friend into my life who loves the Lord and loves philosophy. She works with prostitutes in the red light district, helping them to develop marketable skills so they can leave the sex trade behind. She also facilitates a nursery for their children. She was driving me home from church a few nights ago and we got into this incredible conversation about epistemology and relativism as it relates to individuality in our spiritual conditions, and about how that relates to the arguments against the Gnostics proposed by Tertullian, the Ante-Nicean theologian. My brain reminded me of an engine trying to fire up. It took a few minutes to get going but it was exhilarating to get that motor running again- the sparks lighted, the pistons were pumping....My brain was ON. My friend and I are actually going to be caroling at the brothels next weekend. How often can you say that?
The other thing that happened was that I joined the church's Christmas choir. They usually use only a worship band for their weekend services but the church leadership decided to create a choir for the holidays- something that had never been done in the church's eleven-year history. And, going only on hearsay regarding my skills in this department, the director made me his assistant director. I have spent the last two weeks learning the soprano and alto parts to seven different songs. Because we are relying only on audio recordings, I have transcribed parts on a few occasions. When we gather for rehearsals, I lead the ladies groups, pinpointing bad notes or pausing to correct rhythm patterns that were not being sung in unison. And, of course, we are memorizing lyrics. My brain is working again. I have been in choirs since I was in 7th grade, in school and in church, and had never realized how much exercise it was for my noggin.
The odd thing about preparing for the Christmas cantata is that winter has come to an end in Bolivia. (Though you wouldn't know it from the weather the last few days.) Last week it was unbelievably hot. My house, with all its skylights and no central A/C, would become an oven by mid afternoon. And, in that Southern Hemisphere kind of way that has me all turned around, the kids spent last week at summer camp...three weeks before Christmas. The school year here, like in the States, finishes in the summer. Which in Bolivia, is to say December. This means that all the end of the school year activities are crashing with all the end of the year-year activities. Our schedule has become very intense. The kids had their final equestrian exams on the same day as the girls had their flamenco performances.
Noemie absolutely rocked it. She is a natural. Or maybe she was extra motivated because she was so annoyed at the meanness of the other girls in her class.
Gigi did her thing. She was no standout but she enjoyed wearing make-up and parading in the spotlights with her friends. Olé!
Tovi and Noemie had their violin and viola recital last week as well. All of us (but Danny most of all) look forward to all these programs and exhibitions coming to an end this weekend. Then we can focus on the real Christmas, and on fixing our minds on enjoying the work to be done in the final months of our time here.
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