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Albedo of Celeste
Jan. 15th, 2023 08:19 pmThe most important thing that happened all day was that I woke up about 3:30 am, and then I got a text from the Philosopher to say they were at the hospital and all was well so far. I texted back that I was thinking of them and we were very excited. But since then, nothing. I sent him a message later on to let him know that all the aunts and uncles were sending their love, but there was no response. Edited because news! He just texted again a little while ago to say they are still in labor, but everything is fine, the baby is well, and he will let us know if there is anything important. WHEW. So happy to hear that.
Well . . . following that, we had an unexpectedly delightful excursion. Along with a group of other people, we visited a different church from the one we usually go to. This was a Ukrainian rite church, which is in communion with the western Catholic church, but worships in a manner more like the Orthodox--it's complicated. The service takes longer because there's a whole lot of singing and almost everything is chanted, not to mention doing some things once in English and once in Ukrainian, and some of it in Old Church Slavonian. To someone like me, who enjoys languages, this is a pleasure. I happen to know that "Hospodin pomiluj" means "Lord have mercy," though that's about it. We had a dear friend who was a Ukrainian rite priest, and we've attended Ukrainian and Melkite rite Eastern services before, so this was not entirely foreign to us. The church is about the size of a converted house with the interior taken out and a few old pews and a whole bunch of icons installed. It was very crowded, including squads of little kids who were so fun to watch.
It turned out we chose a good day to visit. The priest announced that they were having a post-Christmas party in the basement, where there would be Ukrainian food and singing of Christmas carols. It was so crowded. We stood in line for ages, and when we finally got to the front, I observed a small sign saying that by order of the fire marshal, no more than 49 people must be there. I think the fire marshal would not have been happy. On my way to a bowl of delicious borscht, I struck up a conversation and learned that the church used to be much smaller, but now there has been an influx of newcomers. The new people are all refugees, and most of them don't speak English, as I also discovered. They may be refugees, but they make the whole place cheerful and happy. The food was great, and eventually a man came around with a jumbo-size bottle of vodka offering to pour shots in the plastic glasses. I'm not the kind to turn down a free shot. We were having a nice time chatting with a woman of Ukrainian descent--hometown Chernobyl--and her housemate, an older man whose grandfather was a Cossack. She keeps chickens. At the other end of the room, a group of people started singing Ukrainian Christmas carols in beautiful harmony, and then English carols in translation, and then a woman played the violin to accompany them. It was lovely, but we eventually got tired and had to come home.
Worked on the book; waited in vain (so far) to learn what's going on with our beloved kids. My day so far.
Well . . . following that, we had an unexpectedly delightful excursion. Along with a group of other people, we visited a different church from the one we usually go to. This was a Ukrainian rite church, which is in communion with the western Catholic church, but worships in a manner more like the Orthodox--it's complicated. The service takes longer because there's a whole lot of singing and almost everything is chanted, not to mention doing some things once in English and once in Ukrainian, and some of it in Old Church Slavonian. To someone like me, who enjoys languages, this is a pleasure. I happen to know that "Hospodin pomiluj" means "Lord have mercy," though that's about it. We had a dear friend who was a Ukrainian rite priest, and we've attended Ukrainian and Melkite rite Eastern services before, so this was not entirely foreign to us. The church is about the size of a converted house with the interior taken out and a few old pews and a whole bunch of icons installed. It was very crowded, including squads of little kids who were so fun to watch.
It turned out we chose a good day to visit. The priest announced that they were having a post-Christmas party in the basement, where there would be Ukrainian food and singing of Christmas carols. It was so crowded. We stood in line for ages, and when we finally got to the front, I observed a small sign saying that by order of the fire marshal, no more than 49 people must be there. I think the fire marshal would not have been happy. On my way to a bowl of delicious borscht, I struck up a conversation and learned that the church used to be much smaller, but now there has been an influx of newcomers. The new people are all refugees, and most of them don't speak English, as I also discovered. They may be refugees, but they make the whole place cheerful and happy. The food was great, and eventually a man came around with a jumbo-size bottle of vodka offering to pour shots in the plastic glasses. I'm not the kind to turn down a free shot. We were having a nice time chatting with a woman of Ukrainian descent--hometown Chernobyl--and her housemate, an older man whose grandfather was a Cossack. She keeps chickens. At the other end of the room, a group of people started singing Ukrainian Christmas carols in beautiful harmony, and then English carols in translation, and then a woman played the violin to accompany them. It was lovely, but we eventually got tired and had to come home.
Worked on the book; waited in vain (so far) to learn what's going on with our beloved kids. My day so far.
