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Happy Birthday to... Me

This post is all about... me.

Actually, that's not true. It's simply more stories, following the course of the narrative, that happened to take place on my birthday. They would be great stories otherwise, but they're even better because it was my birthday. 

Hearts are full of continued Easter joy during the octave. The sequence Victimae Paschali Laudes is read at Mass every day, and after the penitential days of Lent and the intensity of Holy Week, we come into a sort of liturgical spring, where the liturgy bursts forth and blossoms.

The last day of the octave happened to be my birthday. It started a pretty normal Saturday, with Mass at 8 a.m., followed by breakfast with everyone. 

My usual Saturday routine was to work in the kitchen and clean my room. It was also the day that the oblates and candidates would wash and clean the school buses, out on the road in front of the mission. On this particular Saturday, they got one stuck in the mud.



I went go watch and laugh at them, and was punished by stepping in a fire ant hill-- twice. 

It was 40 degrees that day... Celsius.104 Fahrenheit. I joked that it was the first time my birthday was in summer. Faith and I spent part of the morning cleaning up under the mango tree; I can still remember the feeling of my cheeks throbbing from the heat.

As I learned, though, a hot, sunny morning ends in a thunderstorm. During catechism that afternoon, big black clouds rolled in, bringing a storm that first drove us inside for class, then knocked out the power. 

We had choir practice in the dark (we were pretty good at it, actually: all you need is a pitch pipe and flashlights) until the very end, when the power came on. Someone said something about it being my birthday; Victor ran to turn on the keyboard while the Bambinette, who had started to leave, came flooding back. They then proceeded to spend the next three minutes singing "Happy Birthday" in French, English, Italian and whatever tribal languages they knew.

We walked the girls back to Maria Bambina afterwards. There was some impressive lightning to be seen on the horizon. 

As we came walking back up the road, we could see bright lights and smoke, and hear a lot of noise (like a chainsaw) coming from down the road. I went to the kitchen to help get aperitif ready and didn't even notice that all the men were gone until Faith pointed it out. We went out behind the kitchen and saw that a tree had fallen across the road. All the men were there (the bright lights were headlights) trying to get it off the road, accompanied by a colony of bees that was living in the tree!

We finally got to our aperitif, a little late. As Canon Fragelli said, "It's good to have a tree fall every once in a while. It breaks up the monotony." (I seriously doubt that his missionary life was monotonous.) There was a bee with us on the terrace, but it didn't bother anyone and thus was determined to be a Salesian bee (St. Francis de Sales was know for his gentleness; the term "Salesian" usually refers to a gentleness found in spiritualities like that of the Institute).

It was usually only Sunday and feast day dinners that were held on the terrace; I don't know if my birthday got counted as a feast day, or if it was due to the generator noisily running behind the refectory that would have made a reading at dinner impossible (the only reason we had power that evening was from our personal generator). In any case, dinner was on the terrace. Canon Fragelli brought out two bottles of Bordeaux, "In your honor", he told me. 

We had spaghetti and meatballs that evening. I had made it when I was in charge of the kitchen one day when Maman Noëline had been sick, so I think it was their only concept of American food and made it for that reason!

My place at the table was facing the door. Canon Fragelli told me I was supposed to be on the other side, "So you don't see the cake you don't know is coming." To which I replied, "You mean the one I didn't know they were making in the kitchen?"

It really was a beautiful cake:

For whatever reason, Angelique had put 24 candles in it (I turned 21). This is me counting them, since it didn't seem right:

Canon Fragelli then reached over and took three candles out! 

I know you have my camera, Dieu Vivant, even if no one else is paying attention! 

During dessert, Canon Fragelli gave me a present (wrapped in Christmas wrap--it's all we had!). It was two lengths of fabric, both in the same pattern, but with one in a small print and one large. I would find out the next day what it was for. 

There was a soccer game the guys stayed up to watch. I hung around for a little bit, but went to bed before long. 

It was a very happy birthday. 

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