The Nature of Language

A couple weeks ago I was cleaning out a box in the basement and I came across this little blip I wrote while I was studying German in Berlin. I think it captures nicely how swallowed up my life was at that point by language. It is one of the few things that I've written that I still like after a couple years have passed. I'm putting it on the blog for your contemplation and so that I don't lose it. :)

The Nature of Language

Language is so much more than the sum of its parts. Nouns, verbs, and adjectives don't come close to touching the real meaning of a languages.

Language is about communication, not just talking. Language is about understanding what was meant, not just what was said. Learning a language isn't like learning anything else in the world, because to master another language is to open the door to another world of people. Sure, there are rules and facts and structures. But language is more about feelings than facts. It's more about expression than precision. A language is a living organism; always growing, always changing. It requires time and energy. Like a good relationship, constant upkeep is necessary for ultimate enjoyment.

Language allows us to access one anothers' thoughts. Like an international master key, language stretches across borders of time and space to connect us. It is stronger than appearance or misunderstanding. In the hand of a master, language can overcome race, religion, prejudices, and stereotype. It can end wars, heal hate, restore love. If we let it, language can make our world a better place.

Grad School Graduation

Friday was my third graduation ceremony. I'm happy to report that I managed not to fall or trip or anything else awkward and embarrassing during my two minutes of fame. Here's a picture of me with the two TESOL profs, Dr. Seaman (whom I'm passing) and Dr. Pierson (whom I'm about to hug). There were only about 45 graduates (it was only for the grad school), which was good because the chair of each department gave a little 60-second blurb about each of his or her graduates, so it was plenty long anyway. Fortuantely the profs were mostly kind and didn't say embarrassing things like, "Leslie has really made BIG IMPROVEMENTS since she came to Wheaton!" or "We really hope that Leslie manages to find a job in her field after she graduates..."

I'm really not finished with school until this Tuesday night; that's when my final final (hopefully of all time) will be over, so the graduation thing was a little anti-climactic. But it was still special because my dad, his wife, my sister, and brother-in-law all made the big hike north to watch me on my big day! Here we are, pretending to be pilgrims and puritans, though we are neither.

In other news, Friday marked my last day of work as a cleaning tech with Missy's Maid Service. That job has been an answer to prayer and a real blessing during my time at Wheaton. I am not, however, sad to hand in my cleaning supplies. :) Tuesday will be my last day monitoring recess at the local grammar school. Sigh! The end of my known employment! Yay! Boo! If I show up on your doorstep begging any time soon, you will know that my full-time employment search is not going well. I'm looking for something temporary from January through May. Then hopefully I'll move back to Ohio and prepare to move to Ecuador and teach ESL at Alliance Academy. Of course I haven't been offered a position yet, but I'm still operating at this point as though I had.

Though I would love to write more, my bed is calling me. I think that a Sunday afternoon nap is critical. I'd hate to miss that...

Calling All Modern-Day Robins

Last night I watched Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves, one of my all-time favorite movies, and it got me thinking, where are all the present-day Robins?

Not that I think men should start wearing leather shoulder pads and pretending to be a famous British historical figure without a British accent, mind you (and keep in mind that though I can poke good-natured fun at this movie, you may not...kind of like how you can insult your little brother, but no one else can...), but seriously, is it too much to ask that a man be loyal and noble and willing to risk important things in pursuit of a woman he loves?

A couple years back I finally caved to the peer pressure and stopped wearing my ring (a plain, silver band) on my ring finger. Friends told me that men would see it and assume I was married. I say, is it too much for a guy who might be interested to ask around, or even ask me, "is that a wedding ring?" That's not exactly like proposing, is it? I mean, Robin of Locksley was willing to die for Marian. He even said so:

Marian, "You came for me!"
Robin, "I would DIE for you!"

Well ok, maybe it is a little old fashioned and out of style, but it shouldn't be. Because deep down inside, I believe that men want to be the brave, conquering heroes that women wish they would be. So what's the problem? Why can't we as a society figure this thing out and live life like we mean it?

But what do I know? I'm still single...

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence

I love Christmas carols, especially the sacred songs. My favorites are O Come, O Come Emmanuel; What Child is This?; O Holy Night. I like these because they seem to exude the heritage of the season - our connection to generation after generation of persevering saints; waiting patiently - and sometimes impatiently - for the fulfillment of God's glorious promise.

He would send a Messiah; a Savior to rescue us from ourselves. Five hundred years of heavenly silence preceded the Christ-child's earthly arrival. Five hundred years without an encouraging word. Years of oppression for God's Chosen People. Years of uncertainty and second-guessing. Maybe it was just an old wives' tale. Maybe we're just fooling ourselves. Maybe, maybe...

And then the moment; recognised by most in hindsight, but by a few, hand-picked servants immediately. Labor pains. A bed of straw. Eternal moments for Mary and her new husband as they struggle together through the wonderful and terrible process of birth.

He was here. Ten fingers and ten toes. A perfect baby boy. Truly perfect, the first and last child to be precisely that. The virgin sings a lullaby. God becomes flesh and dwells among us.

What about this miracle is NOT sacred, I ask you? What about it is not a little melancholy? Born to die. Born to take on the punishment of the whole human race. Born to be the sacrifice for the sins of Leslie Elizabeth Foster. Born for me. And you.

Last Sunday we sang this hymn, which is believed to date back to the 1st century AD. To think that people who actually walked with Christ may have sung this hymn, along with me and the congregation of Blanchard Alliance Church. All of us connected through centuries of triumph and failure, spiritual drought and overwhelming times of revival. They, awaiting Christ's coming; we, awaiting His return. Bound by bonds of Love to the One who gave all for us.

This carol says it all. Mortal flesh all; Christ deserves our allegiance, our shouting with joy, and our silence. We owe Him our somber, reverent silence as well.

May you make time to sit before your King in silence this Advent season. No other offering than your time and your adoration.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth,
Our full homage to demand.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.

Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.

At His feet the six wingèd seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!