Sparkling

            When I was working on an American military base in Stuttgart, my boss was a Scotsman from Edinburgh.  When I first started the job, I could barely understand John.  Eventually, though, after training myself to listen closely, I began to understand his lilting Scottish accent.  After we became friends, John told me that he had had trouble understanding my accent too, and he thought that I spoke way too fast!  John said the cutest things about his daughter—he always referred to her as his wee lass.  One weekend he took her to see the Stuttgart Christmas Market, which is one of the oldest and largest Christmas markets in Europe.  When I asked him if they enjoyed their time together, he answered with a sigh and said, “Aye, me wee lassie’s eyes sparkled more than all the twinkle lights of the city.”  While obviously a hyperbolic turn of phrase, the poetry of his Scotts tongue painted a vividly beautiful portrait of his little girl that I will always remember.

I made my prof cry!! The Story of English part 2

Last fall, I had the opportunity to live in Stuttgart, Germany, for a few months.  Not being independently wealthy at the ripe age of twenty one, I found a job at a gas station on the American Military base.  Working at the Shopette, as it was fondly called, offered me the chance to meet virtually every military-based Americans living in Stuttgart, as it was the only station of its kind on the four posts in the city.  The accents, from New Joisey to Georgah, were really interesting to hear. After talking to a customer for a few minutes, I could usually make a pretty good guess of where they had come to Germany from. Most of the people who came through my line asked me where in the South I was from. That always surprised me, because I’ve never thought of myself as having a Southern accent, but apparently I do!  Before my German experience, I never thought about how language has the power to connect people.  Once I met a lady who sounded so familiar, so of course I had to ask her where she was from. Turns out, she had recently moved to Stuttgart from Rogers! When I told her I was from Siloam, we had an instant connection.  Although the chances of ever seeing this woman again (I don’t even remember her name!) are slim to none, our accents brought us together for a fleeting moment, and as the snow fell quietly in the dusky German sky, I felt at home. 

The Story of the White Girl and the Bus

When I was in elementary school, I lived and went to school in a small surf town on the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii.  My little sister and little brother also went to Haleiwa Elementary School.  The majority of kids and teachers at school with were locals, mainly of Hawaiian, Polynesian, and Asian ancestry.  They spoke English, but in a strange, broken sounding dialect of Pidgin.  During the first few weeks of school I could barely understand a word that was spoken to me!  A lot of kids made fun of the three little Abbeys for our white skin and our “Haole talk.” At first we tried to ignore it, but I realized we had to adapt after the first day we rode the bus home.

Our house was only a few miles from the school, and so, Mama decided, a bus ride would be a quick alternative to her loading up the babies and making the trek into town. After all of the necessary paper work was filled out and teachers were notified that we should be dismissed with the bus riders, the day of the first bus ride arrived.  Timidly, I walked onto the bus, followed closely by Hannah and Paul. The three of us shared a front seat close to the bus driver and began what would turn into a very long journey.  Instead of stopping and letting us off in front of our long and somewhat hidden driveway, the bus rumbled on by and started up the mountain.  Too scared to say anything and get teased for my Haole accent, I rationalized that the bus driver would stop by on the way back past our house.  Two hours later, a panicked Mama picked us up outside of Haleiwa Elementary School. 

The next day, Mama made us try again.  Small but proud, I was determined to get Hannah, Paul, and myself home safely this time.  Blonde head held high, I marched them up the rubber steps and back to our seat.  Once three backpacks were smooshed under two pairs of rubber sandals, I strode up to the bus driver, stuck my hands into the pockets of my cut offs, and took a deep breath.  I knew the time had come to use the language I had practiced in my head during the school day.  With all the courage I could muster, I loudly asked the bus driver, “Dis bus go Waimea?” To my great surprise and delight, he responded “Yeah, gurlh, you do tell me wen ya house come,” and I knew that I had made myself understood.  To this day, whenever we talk about Haleiwa Elementary School, Hannah and Paul, and I confess, I too, cannot help but remember with shrieking laughter the story of the White Girl and the Bus.

newsy update--an excerpt from an email to the grandparents!

My classes have been going great so far! I love JBU and I am so thankful that I am back there! I am taking a physical science course, which is my least favorite subject, but my professor seems to be a great guy and since its basically bone-head science (everyone has to take it) he is really good about explaining things and using visuals to help us understand what in the world he is talking about! My philosophy professor is really young, in his early 30s I think, and he is hilarious! He always has some smart-alec little remark to make, which cracks the whole class up every time! On the first day of class, he called roll and asked what everyone's favorite type of music is. One guy said he like bluegrass and told us that he played the banjo, so yesterday the prof let him bring his banjo to class and he played for us...it was a cool way to start class off! I learned one of the songs he played in choir back in middle school and I was tempted to break out into song, but couldn't bring myself to do it in front of everyone haha. I have had three of my professors before in the English department and it has been really great to reconnect with the whole department. I have a class with Jessa, Jimmy's fiance, too, which is fun! Its crazy to me that so many people that I know are getting married (Hannah, Jimmy, and lots more) and some are already married (like Bryn)! I am just not ready, and I am so OK with that! (Thank goodness! haha)

I just got back from chapel, where we got to listen to Dr. Franklin Graham preach. It was awesome! His voice totally reminded me of you, Grandpa! And what he said reminded me of you, too! He mostly talked about the need for all of us Christian to spread the Gospel of Jesus wherever we go. As an example, he used his ministry in Haiti. He said that when they were down there in a hospital (acutally, they still are) they would pray with every patient and give everyone a Bible. When he was asked by an American news reporter why they did this, even if it might offend someone, he replied that if they weren't spreading the gospel, there was absolutely no point in helping people, because they really wouldn't be helping them at all in the eternal scheme of things. That got me to thinking about our culture...a lot of people do good things for the sake of doing good things, because its the right thing to do, ya know? But it all will come to nothing if they don't share the Good News, too! I had never really thought of doing good things for that sake, and it really struck me as important. I'm excited to see how God's plan for my part in helping people find Him plays out!