What it sounds like..

Dragon. If I had to choose an animal or mystical creature to associate myself with, dragon would not be the first that came to mind. I do not breath fire out of my nostrils nor do I want to. In Romanian, the word for “dear” (as in loved one) is “draga” which in Ben's ear sounds like “dragon.” Being that I lived in China, Ben thinks that “dragon” is more than a suitable term of endearment and is actually quite proud of himself for thinking of it. But what is so loving about a fire breathing slayer? The image I think of is the one depicted in the cartoon Shrek where the female dragon captures the talkative donkey. I don't want to be that dragon or the donkey for that matter. But “draga” does sound like “dragon” and that is a sufficient enough of a connection as there apparently needs to be. When I studied Chinese, I too was fascinated by the associations that words would bring to mind and often such connections created pictures and meanings that spoke of the deeper or the ridiculous. Often times they pointed to both. The word for "blood" in Chinese is pronounced “xue” as well as the word “snow.” The image of the purity of white snow and the scarlet of blood red poured brilliantly forth in beautiful contrast as I attempted numerous times to produce the sound.

In Romania, we walked down the village streets where Ben once lived. He pointed out places and told stories. When we passed the church called the House of Prayer, he told me the word for "pray" is “rugaciune.” “It sounds like a dance,” he says and proceeds to do a little jig in the street. And that association again brought forth a truth of the word. When Ben “rugaciunes” down the street and I respond with a laugh, I wonder at prayer being a dance – a waltz, a salsa, a jitter bug. I hesitate to write about it since the dance metaphor is often used but I am not above thinking that it very well should be. Timothy Keller says that God himself is a dance - the Son, the Creator, the Spirit – because they are three moving in one love for He is love, each glorifying each other. Maybe prayer allows us to be conscious of the movement around us sometimes in smooth fluid steps and others in pronounced jarring stomps with a swivel of the hips. The deeper and the ridiculous. Dragon and draga. Afterall, love is refined by fire. Maybe that is deep. Or maybe it's ridiculous. “Dragon,” Ben calls me and smiles as my face crinkles in hidden approval of his charm. “You're ridiculous,” I say.