13... parte labing-apat (#14)

In case you are wondering, yes, it is one of my cats sleeping under the tree!

And also, I know my tree is not the prettiest one going but there is a reason to it:

Every year we (in the general sense) go out, looking for the perfect tree. It has to be just right, even, not too thin but not too full, straight and with no holes. It has to be just like we have seen it in pictures...
Why? Why can't our trees be just as faulty as every single one of us?
God does not ask us to be perfect...
He accepts us just the way we are. And just think of all the Christmas trees, we have quickly discarded when searching. Maybe one of them, even with a missing branch here or a bit of a lopsidedness there would have made just the tree our heart was looking for?
Why does everything always have to be perfect...?

We now make it a point to get a tree, that has a fault and make it look the most beautiful tree by pouring our hearts into decorating it.

Thirteen Ornaments hanging on out tree:
1 ….


We bought those 3 years ago because I like how they look like Gingerbread!

2 ….


Acquired by my younger one on the "Christkindl Markt" in Nürnberg

3 ….


My younger ones first Christmas

4 ….


Also my younger ones first Christmas

5 ….


My younger ones third Christmas

6 ….


My Dad gave me those two :-)

7 ….


My eldest first Christmas

8 ….


Also my eldest first Christmas

9 ….


My younger ones second Christmas

10….


Acquired by my elder daughter on the "Christkindl Markt" in Nürnberg

11….


Given to me by my godmother along with a few others. They are handcrafted from straw
12….


Given to my by a very dear friend a long time ago.
13….


A silver wire star I made this year!

There are of course lots more, but as it is Thursday Thirteen....







Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Christmas Moments

© Claudia Chauvin

My mother took me to see a Show on Saturday.
She had to write about it for the local newspaper.
It was called Christmas Moments and it was superb!
From a Jazz version of "Silent Night" to Pinks "Dear Mr President" the range was varied and very well performed.
Interludes by the "Christmas Spirits" (Alexander Grünberg) with thought provoking words left the audience quiet and deeply moved and at other times laughing so hard it brought tears to their eyes.

From the soulful voice (Meike Anlauff) to the jazzy Tenor (Oliver Rohles) and the strong, full voice of Beatrice Reece there was a very interesting mixture of performers. Simone Clemens and David Moore also left memorable impressions. Accompanied with great skill by Thomas Schwab and his Band it was a magical evening!

But it was in the end, that the "Chistmas Spirit" left us, moved into silence, with a deeply touching interpretation of Rolf Krenzer's poem "Wann fängt Weihnachten an":

© Claudia Chauvin

Wann fängt Weihnachten an?
Wann- ja wann?

Wenn der Schwache
dem Starken die Schwäche ergibt,
wenn der Starke die Kraft des Schwachen liebt,
wenn der Habewas mit dem Habenichts teilt,
wenn der Laute bei dem Stummen verweilt
und begreift was der Stumme ihm sagen will,
wenn das Leise laut wird und das Laute still,
wenn das Bedeutungsvolle bedeutungslos,
das scheinbar Unwichtige wichtig und groß,
wenn mitten im Dunkel ein winziges Licht
Geborgenheit, helles Leben verspricht,
und du zögerst nicht,
sondern du gehst so wie du bist drauf zu,

dann- ja dann fängt Weihnachten an!

Here is an approximate translation by me:

When, oh when begins Christmas?
When - Oh when?

When the weak forgive the strong their weaknesses
and the strong learns to love the strength in the weak
when the have-gots share with the have-nots
when the loud spends time with the mute
and understands what the mute means to say,
when the quiet becomes loud and the noisy hushed,
when important things become meaningless,
and the non relevant major and huge,
when in the dark a tiny light
promises life and shelter,
and you don't hesitate,
but walk towards it just as you are.
Then - oh then Christmas begins!

"It's been a long time" or "Free Burma"

Well, it has been a very long time since I last posted. And I currently don't have the patience to reiterate all that has happened and explain the reasons for my absence...
To be frank I wasn't sure if I was ever going to come back to writing, but today an atrocity caught my attention. I felt compelled to write about it and I guess my Blog is a good a way as any to do that.

Burma is ruled by one of the worst military dictatorships in the world. This week Buddhist monks and nuns began marching and chanting prayers to call for democracy. The protests spread and hundreds of thousands of Burmese people joined in -- they've been brutally attacked by the military regime, but still the protests are spreading.

I just signed a petition calling on Burma's powerful ally China and the UN security council to step in and pressure Burma's rulers to stop the killing. The petition has exploded to over 200,000 signatures in a few days and is being advertised in newspapers around the world, delivered to the UN secretary general, and broadcast to the Burmese people by radio. We're trying to get to 1 million signatures this week, please sign below and tell everyone! (Avaaz.org)

Stand with the Burmese people

Today the Burmese foreign minister, Nyan Win, told the General Assembly of the United Nations that

"small-scale protests had been exploited by opportunists and some foreign countries",

which he did not name. He said his government had acted with restraint before sending in the army. He said normalcy had now returned to Burma.
The authorities say ten people died in the violence but western governments believe the number was far higher.

Account from a monastery (BBC)

A Buddhism student, who experienced first-hand the events of the last two weeks at a Buddhist monastery in Burma, describes the recent unrest.

In Burma, the topic of politics is always on people's minds. But only until recently it would have been impossible to predict the events that were about to unfold.

It is commonly perceived that the government has spies in Buddhist monasteries.

There is always a feeling of suspicion and everyone's careful about what they say. Casual conversations have led to trouble in the past.

Burmese people protested against fuel price increases in August. The monks' first reaction was a response to the economic situation. Monasteries depend on material support from the public.

The price increases put a strain on ordinary people and in turn they couldn't spare much of their income to give to monasteries. Monks were worried that they can't survive like that and that they soon won't have anything to eat.

For those who have spent all their lives in a monastery, to leave and do something else was not an option. A few monks expressed their dissatisfaction to members of the government.

The incident in Pakokku, in which monks were beaten, was like a kick to their faces. It activated their attention and that's when they realised that this involves them too.

There was widespread outrage, but still no action.

Impact of the news

Then they heard on the radio that groups of monks were protesting on the streets of Rangoon. That's when they realised that something was happening. Everyone was glued to the radio waiting to hear the latest news from the BBC and Voice of America.

The news had a bigger impact on decisions and events, than any leader could have had.

Those who took part were from the younger generation of monks, who hadn't experienced the events of 1988 and thought that they couldn't be attacked.

The older monks were too frightened and hesitant. Those who had responsible positions in the monastery were particularly against anybody taking part in protests.

They issued orders to other monks not to take part. They were saying 'don't do anything, if you leave, you will be disassociated'.

The middle-level monks were sandwiched between the senior monks and the young ones. Many sneaked in and out.

After they had fled the beatings, they would come back and cheer that they could go out and do what they have done. Some got injured, but nobody was killed.

Then we heard on the news that monks were being killed. There was outrage, disappointment, hopelessness.

They wanted to send a message to the international community. They were hearing about China, sanctions, the UN, negotiations, things they didn't understand. But it gave them hope that the international community is watching closely what's happening in Burma.

Losing hope

The whole thing started as a religious movement. It was not an organised democratic movement and there was no intention whatsoever for it to be turned into one. Monks were adamant about it.

They knew that there is no point in asking the generals for freedom. They knew that they don't have guns and can't beat the army. All they wanted to do was show the world what their situation is and that they are prepared to die.

They were very hopeful about the UN envoy coming to Burma. But they were quite surprised to hear that he met Aung San Suu Kyi.

They love and respect her, but they felt that this time it is about them and that the UN envoy should be speaking to them. They felt that it's a distraction from them while they are being shot at and need protection.

This was an opportunity for them to express themselves after 20 years. Their eyes are on the international community, their only hope is that the world will see their plight and help them.

But when they hear that support for the demonstrations is dwindling and time passes by without help from anyone, they lose hope. They are getting disillusioned and eventually they'll give up.

Everyday unspeakable things happen in this world. Everyday thousands of people die because they did not receive that life saving medicine , because they have nothing to eat, drink contaminated water, because they are persecuted for their race, sex or religion.
As individuals we may not be able to change the world, but we can make a start.
It may seem silly and insignificant in the grand scheme, but if everyone does it e.g. conserve water, save electricity, give some money to Doctors without Borders, help a neighbour, recycle our rubbish, give food and clothes to the homeless shelter and so much more, if everyone does just a little bit, the we, together, can change the world.

Start right now!

Happy Mothers Day

Gustav Klimt "The Three Ages of Woman" (detail)

The Boy Who Had No Ears

"Can I see my baby?" the happy new mother asked. When the bundle was nestled in her arms and she moved the fold of cloth to look upon his tiny face, she gasped. The doctor turned quickly and looked out the tall hospital window. The baby had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.

When he rushed home from school one day and flung himself into his mother's arms, she sighed, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks. He blurted out the tragedy. "A boy, a big boy...called me a freak."

He grew up, handsome for his misfortune. A favorite with his fellow students, he might have been class president, but for that. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. "You might mingle with other young people," his mother reproved him, but felt a tenderness in her heart.

The boy's father had a session with the family physician. Could nothing be done? "I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured" the doctor decided. Whereupon the search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man.

Two years went by. Then, "You are going to the hospital, son. Mother and I have someone who will donate the ears you need. But it's a secret", said the father. The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged.

His talents blossomed into genius, and school and college became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must know!" he urged his father. "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him."

"I do not believe you could," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know...not yet."

The years kept their profound secret, but the day did come - one of the darkest days that ever pass through a son. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father stretched forth a hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal a secret - that the mother had no outer ears.

"Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought mother less beautiful, did they?"

Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the heart. Real treasure lies not in what can be seen, but what cannot be seen. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what is done but not known.

Isn't a mother's love fantastic? Nobody knows all the sacrifices she makes.

Author unknown

Pulitzer Prize Winner 2007 - Feature Photography

I have come across this while browsing.
It is a photo story about a young boys struggle with cancer and I think it is absolutely fantastic:



Click on the photo to get to the story