Fresh roasted coffee beans wafted outside the small, corner cafe. My steps hit the litter-speckled pavement underneath a blue, cloudless sky. Oaxaca, Mexico.

It had been awhile since I made any sort of trip without Jeremy and the dust on my shoes made me miss my traveling companion and most kindred spirit. Before I met Jeremy at the New Tribes Missions training center in Wisconsin, I had pictured my husband-to-be much differently. People said he would be athletic (a wrestler, maybe) and accomplished (several doctoral degrees, perhaps?).

I couldn’t suppress the girlish giggle that found its way through the familiar feelings and escaped through my parched lips. Jeremy was a lot of things – accomplished in his own right (but without the degrees) and athletic only when necessary for adventuring (never really for sport) – but he certainly looked nothing like what people (or I) expected. I suppose that’s why I fell so quickly and decidedly. Now, waiting for my childhood friend at the Cafe Sueno in Oaxaca, I half-hoped he would have made the trip with me.

I pushed the thought down with a few thick, flavorful sips of fresh coffee. This little eatery was quietly crammed between a panaderia and a friendly fabric store. It would only be a few cups of this good strong coffee before Elizabeth met me … I smiled as I realized I no longer measured time by minutes. Two years had taught me time (and certainly punctuality) was a very fluid thing in Central American culture. I can’t say I minded measuring things in cups of coffee or rainstorms or daylight or loaves of bread.

Sure enough, I was enjoying my third cup of coffee with a delicous postre when Elizabeth walked in. It had to be at least three years since we had connected in our token small-town, Midwestern Amish restaurant. In the moments before she saw me, I knew we would start as though no time had passed at all.

James Elrod, one of the new teachers here at Pinares, graced us with this poem at the Christmas party this past Saturday. I thought it was worth sharing! It gives a great picture of some of the comical, frustrating, and endearing things about life here.

————

‘Twas the month before Christmas and all through the fog

Not a creature was stirring, not even a dog.

The bookbags were hung in the lockers with care

In hopes that the homework would do itself there.

The Meesters and Meeses were starting to wane,

So ready to trade knee-deep snow for the rain,

And up on the mountain Pinares stood still.

Who, in God’s name, builds a school on a hill

Where it sits in a cloud for days upon days

Until it feels like the sun was only a phase?

The lights all a-flicker; we smell like King Kong.

“The power is on! Oh wait, we were wrong.”

Mittens and scarves and jackets galore,

I sleep with four blankets but I’m looking for more.

Some teachers are saying this season won’t last,

That this is way worse than it’s been in the past.

Pretty soon we’ll be praying for coolness and breeze,

But I’m already checking the prices of skis.

I’d fly down the mountain to kilometer nine,

Past Rapiditos to the house that is mine,

Look out for the dog who is preggers again;

It’s about time that they build her that pen.

But I have digressed from the topic at hand;

We were waiting for Santa, but he has been banned.

Then who has been eating the cookies and cream?

I turn on the light, and I let out a scream!

The roaches all scurry; there’s crumbs on the plate;

The power goes off; I start cursing my fate.

I hike up the mountain, grab the library key,

Fill bottles with water, drink up, and then pee.

I can’t make my tea on an electric range.

I try using candles; I must be deranged.

I feel moments away from a panic attack.

“Don’t be so dramatic; this isn’t Iraq.”

At least break is coming: a beacon of light.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

—————

What would you write in Christmas poem?