Carols behind Bars

While briefly in Adelaide on my way to Perth for Christmas, I rejoined my old choir to sing Christmas Carols in a high security prison. It was the second time I've carolled in prison.

Prison is an unusual place to sing songs of peace, joy and hope. Quite literally, you are singing to a captive audience. Another former prison caroller said they found this off putting. I found that those who wanted to listen came to the front and those who did not stayed in their cells. Of course, when it came to handing out a Christmas gift of home baked biscuits, almost everyone came to the front!

Some inmates were friendly; joining in the singing, thanking us for coming, blessing us. Even the wardens were mostly friendly this year, some joining in with the carols. Other inmates paced like caged animals. As a zoo member I am used to seeing this behaviour from animals. It was sad to see my own species as the one behind bars pacing back and forth, back and forth. Singing carols to a pacing and distressed face is difficult. It gives meaning to lines such as "the weary soul rejoices". I saw a lot of weariness in people's eyes.

At each place where we sang, we gave people the opportunity to choose a favourite carol. Although Jingle Bell Rock was the definite favourite, Joy to the World, Silent Night and Away in a Manger were also requested. The religious aspect of Christmas, not just the commercial, was important to people.

I wondered what memories some of these carols brought back; of childhoods both good and bad, of family who they can not be with at Christmas. Yet, I preferred to risk raising these memories to let people know that they are not forgotten at Christmas and that there is a source of peace.

A number of people said "See you next year!" In a year's time I hope to be living and working in PNG. Many of these people will still be there when it comes time to carol again next year. It is six years since I last carolled in prison. I think of all I have done in that time and am overwhelmed by the fact that some of these men would have been in the same place, doing the same thing, that whole time.

Some carols gain extra meaning when inside a high security prison, being escorted about by a warden and singing to people behind bars. It was a reminder that the Christ child was born not for the righteous, but for sinners. "Silent night...heavenly peace"... the words were a contrast to the environment, but one I pray could be true in their hearts. Most poignant  was Little Drummer Boy; "I have no gifts to bring"... although this is true of all of us, it was so obvious of the men we were singing to. Yet Jesus still smiles at them.

When I first carolled in prison, a workmate asked me the next day "What were they like? Did they all have tattoos?" To which my response was "What? Like most of your workmates?" (at least half the crew had tatttoos at the time). Yesterday I was once again reminded that the inmates are people too. People with a history. People with a family. People with an identity. People who have done wrong, but people whom God loves.

As at Christmas we declare "Joy to the world! The Lord is come!" I pray that we will remember that "the wonders of his love" truly are for one and all; including all those shunned by society, including those serving time behind bars.

Elnita

The end of the academic year is nearly here and graduation from another degree is only a few days away. One sign that the study is mostly over is that my sewing machine once again has pride of place in the middle of my desk, rather than the landslide of books and paperwork which has been there of late. 

My sewing machine also represents what comes after graduation; packing, sorting and decision making about what to take to PNG, what to store in Australia for ‘one day’ and what to get rid of. As much as I am a fan of the idea of simplicity, I am hopeless at it in practice and am a habitual hoarder. 

One question in the packing, is if I send my sewing machine to PNG or not. I have had my own machine since early high school. It is a cheap machine and noisy, but it is the machine I have learnt to sew on. On it I have gone from making small items, to making clothing by carefully following a pattern, to sometimes using a pattern as an indication for what I might like to do (a bit like my approach to recipes). Most days I am wearing at least one thing I have sewn myself. Although I will probably leave my machine behind and borrow from someone else, or maybe even buy one in PNG, it is a big step for me to be without a sewing machine.

There are many things I will need to learn to be without, living in a developing nation. The hardest will be the things which are personal. Books are personal to me, as is sewing.

Flying in PNG is charged by weight...including for myself (now there is an incentive to weight loss!). Books, sewing machines; these are heavy. My budget it limited. There are many decisions to be made as to what comes and what stays as I prepare to move overseas. Thankfully I have friends who can help advise me, yet at the end of the day I have to decide for myself. It is the start of the letting go I will need to do a lot of. Please pray for my wisdom and peace in all of this.

Pineapple

In my recent newsletter I told a story about going for a 'short walk' while on work experience in PNG in 2002. On our short walk we crossed so many waterways that I took to walking bare foot, rather than put my shoes on and off all the time. I slid down muddy slopes, while a local woman walked down them carrying a toddler in the billum (string bag) hanging from her forehead onto her back, offering me a hand for my balance. Eventually we reached a waterfall, which I was told they had showed no white person before. Sitting on a rock to catch my breath in the mist of the waterfall, they offered to show me the cave behind the falls, where the skulls of their enemies were. I declined.

While sitting on a rock and enjoying the spray, kids were diving in the plungepool for something and came up with yabbies. Every other westerner they had met had been from the USA or Europe, and did not have a word in their tok ples (language) for a small freshwater crayfish. There was much delight to find that in my tok ples we had a word, so while I practised their word, solomolo, they practiced mine, ya-bi. A moment of connection, of sharing.

On the way home, we stopped in the shade of a garden house to eat our yabbies, as well as a pineapple that five minutes earlier had still been growing on the bush. Fresh and delightful.

Over six hours after we started our 'short walk' was over and we were home. We were tired, but we had seen new and beautiful things, learnt new words (including hebe, leech) and made new friends. Our 'short walk' was anything but, yet other things, like the pineapple, were so fresh.

Yesterday was a pineapple sort of day, where things talked about and hoped for suddenly came to fruition, bringing great joy.

I have received an official letter of invitation from SIL in PNG to come as a linguistics and translation worker. Initially this will be a two year term, starting late March next year. One of the first things I'll be involved with is a translation awareness workshop. Attending this workshop will be some of the people groups who I may end up working with long term. It is all rather exciting, and not much study has been done.

My other excitement is that I am managing to line up some sailing over summer. I sure have missed the sea this year!

Liminality

When I’ve worked as second mate on tall ships, I have stood the midnight to 4am watch each night that we are under way.

As I come on watch, I greet the Captain, who is finishing his watch, and finishing the previous day.  I finished my ‘yesterday’ several hours earlier when I went to bed after dinner. Four hours later, as the first mate comes on watch, they are starting the next day. I will not start my ‘tomorrow’ until I’ve had a few hours more sleep. My watch belongs to neither day, but to the night itself. There is no ‘today’, only ‘now’. Living four hours each night that belong to neither day, when the world sleeps, is a strange and delightful thing.

In many ways, this year has been a midnight watch. I am still in Australia and preparing for the field, a member of my ‘yesterday’. Yet, at the same time, I’ve left Adelaide and barely been at sea. They are part of the ‘yesterday’ left behind. ‘Tomorrow’ includes working overseas in Bible translation work... but I am not there yet.

This year is a time between times. A time of learning, growing and changing. It is a time of letting go of parts of ‘yesterday’ and thinking about ‘tomorrow’, yet still enjoying the year for what it is. As the year rapidly draws to a close and plans for heading into the translation field come together, I find I am excited about ‘tomorrow’, although I surely miss parts of ‘yesterday’. The lengthening days remind me that summer is coming, and with that, a whole new phase in life.

Written some time ago;

Second Mate’s Prayer

Lord, we live our life between times.

                You have come. You are coming again.

                                In this moment, you are Immanuel.

In this time, which is neither today, nor tomorrow;

                Let me rest in you, trust in you.

Help me to lay down the burdens of yesterday,

                And not pick up those of tomorrow.

Wrap me in forgiveness for yesterday,

                And trust for tomorrow.

On this dark journey between times Lord,

                Show me your Spirit in the breeze;

                                The breeze which brings life,

                                Which draws us forwards.

                Show me your cross in the sky;

                                Light in the darkness,

                                Course to follow.

                Carry me on your majesty;

                                Vast depths of mystery,

                                Life blood of all the world.

In peace Lord, may we watch.

                Keep us alert Lord, as we wait.

                                May our rest be always in you.                                  Amen.

Bubbles

Many years ago when setting up an email account, I could not use my name as others had got there first. On the spur of the moment I typed in 'joyful bubbles.' It was available, so I established myself a new identity. Soon after, I took to signing my emails with 'Blessings and Bubbles'. I have no clear reason for choosing either, yet in over a decade of use, they have come to be part of how I identify myself and have developed a meaning of their own.

Bubbles are fragile pieces of beauty and perfection. In marvel at their beauty in the moment of their existence, before they dissolve into the air. 'Joyful bubbles' are for me the moments of beauty that occur in our lives every day. Some of them are passing. Some of them occur daily and we easily overlook them. Others are so remarkable that to see them and not wonder, is impossible. These are moments of beauty, or of love, or of perfection, or of compassion, or of life. In them I am reminded that the world is not without hope, but is loved with a perfect love by the creator of all beauty, life and hope.

When I sign my correspondence 'Blessings and Bubbles' it is my prayer that others may also be inspired by these moments of hope in their life each day. May they recognise the blessings, both great and small, both everyday and miraculous, that occur around them. May they not be overwhelmed by the brokenness of our world, but be renewed with love and hope.

In calling this blog 'Blessings and Bubbles' I hope to share some of my reflections on life as I experience it, including the joyful moments with the times of grief or confusion. My life is filled with many interests and threads, which I hope to slowly weave together here. One key thread is that I am a Christian and live and write from that perspective. Some days this will be a primary theme in what I write, at all times the underlying current to how I understand the world.

I am a long term journaller and letter writer. Developing a blog, with an audience of both friends and strangers, is a journey I step into with trepidation, yet I thank you for joining me in seeing where it leads.

Blessings and Bubbles
Hanna Joy