Seeing Orange

 

Yesterday was the birthday of King Willem Alexander.

It's a fun holiday here in the Netherlands with special activities for the children and adults alike.

One friend claimed that a couple of years ago he was in Arnhem for the celebration and the mass of people carried him along for two blocks without his feet ever touching the pavement.*

Many people, like our neighbor, hung out the Dutch flag.

If you look carefully, you'll see something interesting on the end of the flagpole.

It's an orange tip, specifically put there because the Dutch royal family is the House of Orange-Nassau. 

If you watch the summer Olympics, you'll see Dutch fans wearing a lot of orange, rather than red-white-and-blue. 

I saw a lot of orange on the streets yesterday, too. Orange shirts, orange hats, orange jackets. 

The cashier in the grocery store even wore an orange lei. 

It's a bit of fun, a way of saying, "I belong to this place and these 'orange' people." 

We are citizens of a Kingdom, too, a royal priesthood, a holy nation. 

Our King doesn't have a particular color. But He did say that others would know that we belonged to Him--and to each other--by our love.

M. VanRheenen

*This friend was not know for letting the facts get in the way of a good story.

Happy (Old) New Year!

How did (or will) you celebrate the New Year?

In the Netherlands, people eat oliebollen (sort of round donuts) and, at midnight, they watch the neighbors shoot off fireworks. And then they watch the neighbors do this some more, sometimes until 1:30, depending on the neighborhood. 

When we first moved to Missouri, I was puzzled by the supermarket special of a single rose (for the loved one of your choice) and a can of black-eyed peas (?!). My Southern-born husband explained the black-eyed peas were to bring good fortune through the coming year. We now eat them regularly on January 1. (When we first moved to the Netherlands we had to go to a foreign food store to find them and to buy corn meal). 

In Moldova, many are still waiting to celebrate. Our partner Olesea Ciochina explained, "We still have the old-style (Gregorian Calendar) New Year, on January 13. In the evening, the children will go to the houses with wishes and carols.  The next day children go from house to house with a poem for New Year's greeting. They sow seeds (rice, corn, grain, sometimes even dried beans) to wish you a bountiful year, and you give them something in return. I have to cook some cookies & I will buy some sweets for them." 

She never knows ahead of time how many will come by. 

"It can be 10 or it can be 100. They go 2 by 2 or in groups of 3 or 5 or just 1." 

She leaves the seeds in the yard until late in the evening, when she gathers it all up and feeds it to her chickens. She added with a laugh, "When I open to see how many children there are and to listen to them, they can sow seeds inside the house, too." 

It gives new meaning to the story Jesus told: 

A sower went out to sow his seed, and while he was sowing, some of the seed fell by the roadside and was trodden down and birds gobbled it up. Some fell on the rock, and when it sprouted it withered for lack of moisture. Some fell among thorn-bushes which grew up with the seeds and choked the life out of them. But some seed fell on good soil and grew and produced a crop—a hundred times what had been sown. Luke 8:5-8

We wish you a bountiful harvest in 2024, however you started this New Year!

Mary VanRheenen & Keith Holmes 

P.S. Let us know if you want the recipe for oliebollen, corn bread, or vegan black-eyed peas.

November 11 was St. Martin's Day. Children came to the door with a lighted lantern. They sang a St. Martin song. Then we gave them a treat. Traditionally the lanterns were made from hollowed-out turnips.

Does this sound familiar? Keith has a theory. We know that New Englanders borrowed ideas from their Dutch neighbors. Koekjes became cookies. Olliebollen became donuts. Sinterklaas became Santa Claus. Dutch colonists brought the idea of Saint Nicolas (Sinterklaas) to North America. English-speaking North Americans melded this with their own Father Christmas to create Santa Claus. 

Maybe they also merged their own celebration of All Hallow's Eve to North America with the idea of  hollowing out a vegetable and sticking a candle in it. Maybe they also borrowed the idea of going door-to-door and singing, too. Viola--Halloween.

This year our neighborhood organized both Halloween and St. Martin for children. You could sign up to be on the route. 

Saint Martin was a friend of children and a patron saint for the poor. He's most known for cutting his cloak in half on a cold winter's night to save a beggar from freezing to death. 

I might be an American, but I'm a Christian and I'm living in the Netherlands. We signed up for St. Martin's Day.

(Photo of drawing to put in the window as a sign that you're participating.)

 “What’s that flower that they have a lot of in Holland?” an American teenager once asked our daughters. “Dandelions,” was the answer (our daughters were very young). “Or maybe you mean tulips.” The tulips in our front yard are nearly finished. But the dandelions are still going strong.

Tulips require a bit of work. We’ll dig them up once the leaves die down and plant them again, preferably in sandy soil, before the frosts come in the fall. 

Dandelions just show up. They pop up, persistently smiling, from the cracks in crumbling concrete and the banks of otherwise dismal roadsides. They brighten up a dull yard and a dull day. I thank God for these drops of sunshine so freely given. Though, yes,  I do sometimes pull dandelions out of the tulip beds. Tulips are more work . . . .

Palm Sunday in the Netherlands

 

This past Sunday the children in our Dutch church's Sunday school all carried something like this.

Then they put on a song about Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem and paraded out of the church, down the street to the "Old Catholic" church. When they paraded into the service there, the priest blessed them (while sprinkling them with water) AND gave them pieces of greenery to represent palms.

They then proceeded to parade around the neighborhood before circling back into our own church. 

Every "Palmpasen stok" (Palm Easter Stick) had these key elements:

• shaped like a cross, to symbolize Jesus' death
• decorated with green or yellow (crepe) paper
• rooster on top to represent Peter denying Jesus 3 times; (traditionally made of bread, to represent the bread Jesus broke during the Last Supper)
• flower decorations as a symbol of spring and of hope
• eggs to symbolize new life and Jesus' resurrection
• heart (in our church) to symbolize Jesus' love for us

Other church traditions make sure to include a piece of greenery (see below) to symbolize the tree branches people waved on that first Palm Sunday. 

Traditionally, the palmpasen stok is given as a gift to someone else, often an elderly community member, after the "parade" is over.

Bakeries sell the little rooster-shaped breads this time of year. Or, if you are ambitious (and either understand Dutch or understand how to use Google translate), you can make some yourself! Rooster from bread recipe.

 Lente, spring, was an easy Dutch word for us to learn because Lent, the English word for the 40 days before Easter, comes from the same Germanic roots. We now find ourselves in both Lent and lente. 

This year’s Carnaval prins and prinses (two more easy Dutch cognates) have put away their fancy costumes. Crocuses are blooming in the front yard, violets in the backyard, and we Christians are being called to “repent and live the Gospel.” 

I heard that phrase in an Ash Wednesday service years ago. I’m glad so many of you have taken it to heart. Because while violets are blooming here, our brothers and sisters in Eastern Europe are still looking at two more months of winter heating when wood is hard to find and prices keep climbing. Your generous financial gifts help our partners in Moldova deliver food packages to the most vulnerable members of their communities. Thank you.

Mary van Rheenen

A Dutch friend and I were talking about the recent birth of a baby. The friend asked about the customs in America--when do friends and family come for visite to bring gifts and see the baby for the first time. 

The answer is, they don't. That is not part of American culture.* 

Don't we all do just what this Dutch friend did--don't we all take our culture for granted? It's hard not to. We assume all the time that people will act in certain ways and will communicate in certain ways because that's the way we do. I recently read a module that highlighted this: Cultural and Linguistic Differences: What Teachers Should Know.

For example, most teachers in America come from white, middleclass backgrounds like me. We expect kids to tell stories in a linear way--beginning, middle, end. Frankly, I have trouble following other styles of organizing information. A Latino friend, for instance, uses a circular way of telling stories or explaining ideas. This has fancy academic names--which I also didn't know called--topic association or topic chaining. 

This realization makes me wonder whether she has as much trouble following my storytelling style as I have had in following hers. It also makes me wonder how, if I had students like her in a writing class, I would teach them to write in the linear way which is expected in most American academic settings while also honoring and appreciating the cultural style those students know and use so well.

Insights into this and related issues of the classroom as a foreign culture will be welcomed!

Mary VanRheenen 

*Dutch parents send out a geboortekaart or birth announcement card which includes times when people can come to visit. Guests who come op visite will be given beschuit met muisjes (Dutch rusk spread with butter and topped with either pink or blue anis-flavored sprinkles). Guests will also have brought a gift for the child (and perhaps also the parents). 

The first whole week or at least for the first few days the new parent(s) will also have a kraamverzorgster for whole or half days. This trained health professional will help them care for the baby, gradually having the parent(s) take on more and more responsibility. The kraamverzorgster will also prepare the beschuit met muisjes for the visitors. 

And instead of handing out cigars at work, a new parent might bring biscuit met muisjes to announce the birth and share the joy. 

Sightings

Ever regretted something you did? Ever have God bless you anyway? That's what happened with me and the merels (Dutch name for blackbird pictured here).

Merels are the size and shape of an American robin. For several years, a pair nested in the roses in front of our house. They would raise at least two broods per year. But roses need to be trimmed every now and then to keep blooming well. And yes, I trimmed away the part where the merels nested.

In the backyard we have winter jasmine, a lovely yellow flower that brightens up the drab winter days. Quite a bit of it grew up the side of the house--enough for a pair of merels to nest there for several years. But then that mood-boosting yellow flower wasn't blooming so well. So--yes--I got the bright idea of trimming it. No more merels nesting in the back yard.

Back to the front yard. The neighbor had an evergreen hedge that shaded our handkerchief front yard and blocked our view. That hedge really bugged me. So when the neighbor gave me permission to do some trimming . . .. It was only AFTER I'd snipped away more than she liked that she told me, unhappily, that merels had nested for several years on her side of the hedge. And, yes, I had once again trimmed that part away.

I really felt badly about all of this, especially when some plague killed off a lot of merels around here. I confessed this to the Lord, but it still weighed on my heart. 

And then I started catching glimpses of merels. Sitting on the neighbor's fence. Flitting from tree to tree in the neighborhood park. Snacking on wild fruit in the yard. Just this morning I saw two. And I thanked our Creator for the sightings. This reassures me that He is looking after merels . . . and me. 

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. Jesus to his disciples, Matthew 10:29-31, English Standard Version

The first Christmas we were here, Keith and I went to a Christmas concert/carol sing in a nearby town. At the end, everyone stood and sang “Glory to God in the Highest!” From memory. It gave me goose bumps. Nearly every Dutch Christmas concert, worship service, or carol singing ends with this echoing of the angles’ words from Luke 2:14.  This year we will not be going anywhere to sing this with any group. The Omicron variant of Covid has reached the Netherlands, and we are once again in lockdown. Our church will not be having face-to-face Christmas services. But we will still be able to give glory to God! 

           Ere zij God in den hoge!                  Glory to God in the highest,

                 Vrede op aarde,                              and on earth peace,

        in de mensen een welbehagen                good will toward men.

You can enjoy hearing this sung at the end of a church concert in the well-known village of Urk

or in Dutch and English sung in a church somewhere in America. 

Wishing you all many glimpses of God's glory this Christmas 

and throughout the coming year,

Mary & Keith 

 

 

 

St. Nicholas . . . returns to Spain??

Every year in November cities and villages around the Netherlands welcome St. Nicholas back with parades and other festivities. Sinterklaas, as he is known locally, comes here on a boat from his home in Spain. 

He rides around from house to house on a white horse. Children set their shoes at night, often with a carrot in them for this horse. His assistant Zwarte Piet helps the elderly bishop Nicholas by actually going down the chimney to take the carrot and leave some sweets and/or a small gift. 

After the feast day of St. Nicholas, December 6, Sinterklaas goes back to Spain for the rest of the year. The night before, December 5, families gather to open packages from St. Nicholas, read the silly poems that go with the disguised packages, and generally have a good time. 

Most elementary school children will have drawn names at school and brought a sometimes elaborately disguised package for their classmates. For instance, our daughters have gotten their gifts hidden in papier-mâché donuts (because donuts are American), large cardboard books (because they liked to read), and have hidden gifts in papier-mâché cows set on green cardboard meadows and large cardboard computers (because the other child liked playing computer games).  On the day that the children are going to open theses packages, Sinterklaas with one or more Piets will make a personal visit to the school. 

We like Sinterklaas. It's good fun (especially when Pete is black with soot and nothing else). It gets the packages out of the way before Christmas. And now we can focus on celebrating Jesus's first arrival here among us. He does not come and go on a steamship. Immanuel, God is still with us!

THANKS!

 CBF's annual Silent Art Auction is over.

A big thank you to whoever purchased these two pieces.

This generated $185 for the Offering for Global Missions. This is the fund that pays the salary and housing for field personnel like us. 

A big thank you to those who made this online auction possible.

And another thank you to our Dutch friend Arie Pothoven, the artist who painted and donated these pieces.

May our Creator bless all of you . . . and may your creativity be a blessing to many others!

Safe At Home

We live in Westervoort, a quiet village south and east of Arnhem. It's 9:30 PM as I write this. The streets are especially quiet. Due to concerns over the three new versions of the Corona virus, the Dutch government has added a 9 PM-4:30 AM curfew to our existing lockdown. Like most people, we've been at home, minding our own business, since suppertime.

As you may have seen on the news, though, a few people in the Netherlands are not content to wait out this latest lockdown at home. Churches, bars, restaurants, movie theaters, schools, and museums are closed. We are only supposed to have one outside-the-house visitor per day. We weren't supposed to set off any fireworks on New Year's Eve, and we aren't counting on any across-the-borders vacations for the immediate future. 

Some people have had enough and decided to go out after 9 PM to protest. Some other people decided to go out after 9 PM, too, and let off some steam. Well, maybe a lot of steam. 

This seems to be quieting down. In the meantime, we are staying safe at home. We pray you all are safe and at home, too.

I was walking home this evening when I saw this stenciled onto the bike path. A literal translation from Dutch to English is:

Set your light on.

What an appropriate reminder, I thought. Not just for cyclists during these dark winter months, but especially for us Christians. The days seem dark for many. Some chafe at Corona-related restrictions. Others mourn loved ones lost to Corona. Some wonder why one candidate was declared the new US president. Others wonder why the current US president refused to admit it. We Christians have been given the perspective of eternity. We have been given the Light of the world. 

The people who lived in darkness
have seen a bright light.
A light has risen
for those who live in a land overshadowed by death. 

Matthew 4:16 (God's Word translation) 

Een kwartje voor een karweitje

Three little kids stood by the door, calling out, "Een kwartje voor een karwietje!"  (literally, "a quarter for a chore"). It's a Dutch custom that doesn't occur all that often. But I usually have a small chore ready. In this case, they got a trash bag, disposable gloves, the promise of a quarter each if they filled the bag with litter. The littlest one, a boy in a "Pete" costume, held the bag. 

Pete helps the Dutch Sinterklaas distribute gifts. Tomorrow evening is pakjes avond (package evening) when people exchange suprises (gifts) with gedichtjes (silly poems). These children were small enough to still believe that the good Saint Nicholas was the one who brought them. 

The trash bag they brought back was not very full. But in the spirit of the season--and because of a lack of change--they each got a whole Euro instead of a quarter. 

Wishing you all much joy, whether or not children surprise you at the door!

"A Tale of Two Gardens" or "The Choice I Elected"

This is the time of year when migrating flocks of birds swoop into the tree in our backyard, feast on the purple berries there, and swoop on. They glide and turn as one, so many flecks of pepper against the grey clouds. We watch and listen through the big kitchen window, the swoosh of their many wings audible even through the glass that separates us.    

We watch, amazed at the sight and at the Creator who orchestrates it all, from flight plan to berry-bearing shrub. The new neighbors behind us, the ones who transformed their yard from a nature sanctuary (fashioned more by the previous owner’s neglect than intent) into a flat plane of grey tile with an island of artificial turf, were not so entranced. The berries knocked loose by the birds stained that new tile. Could we trim the tree so it didn’t hang over their yard anymore?

We do not share the new neighbors’ vision of an ideal yard. In fact, when they first started hacking off every green thing in sight, I had a lot of difficulty with it. But then God showed me something. These neighbors have roots in Morocco or Turkey or some such dry, dusty place where paved inner courtyards are the desired norm. They even put a high, solid wall all around their yard to create more of a courtyard-as-extension-of-the-dwelling. I, on the other hand, try to cover the fences and walls around our yard with vines so that not being inside feels even more like going outdoors.

But would we trim our tree? Of course, and not just grudgingly because they had the right to ask it. I do not agree with their choice of a yard, but I respect their right to make that choice. I have a choice, too. I can label those new neighbors as all kinds of things because they do not share my view of an ideal yard. Or I can see these new neighbors as neighbors. We can choose to focus on what we share: the desire to live together in a cordial neighborhood.

As summer fades and more and more birds fly south, you and I will have many opportunities to make similar choices. Will you and I focus on our differences? Will we let those differences harden into name-calling and defensive dislike? Or will we choose to focus on our common goals and listen for ways we can work together to achieve them? I elect to do the later. What do you choose?

(Teddy) Bear Hunt--Only Together

AllenSamen, ONLY TOGETHER or  solely by working together is a rough translation of the campaign to combat the corona virus. 
For example, shortly after Dutch schools closed, people started putting teddy bears in their windows. Children could still go outside, alone with family members. The whole country, though, worked together to lighten the mood for the children. While they are walking or biking from here to there, they can go on a bear hunt.
How many teddy bears in this block? Any new ones today?
It's fun to look for bears, no matter how old/young you are.
And it's encouraging to see how many households participate, no matter how young/old they are. Some houses have at least 3 bears in as many different windows! It's a small but significant way to be together, even when we need to stay apart.