Hello again. I hope you all enjoyed your Thanksgiving. In commemoration of the holiday, I had a nice, wholesome meal of a turkey sandwich and some fig biscuits. Over here they say biscuits instead of cookies or, in this case, newtons. It's interesting that I never heard one word all day in allusion to Thanksgiving. But why should I when it's chiefly an American celebration? (I think they observe it in Canada too).

This week has been a relatively slow one. I caught a cold at the beginning of the week, and the symptoms peaked in the middle, but now it seems to have run its course and all but left my body for good. Consequently, I didn't go out much, turning down a couple opportunities to golf, which are shrinking fast in number, and spending most nights in my flat. I did, however, hang out the past two nights in the room of one of Phil's (you remember him) friends. His name was Freido, a German, but he looked like the idea I had of a Spaniard: dark hair, dark eyes, a reddish-tan complexion, and sort of a fiery yet joyful "let's have a good time, and think nothing of it" attitude,--and hospitable too, for he offered us drinks the minute we entered the room.

He lives in the single-room halls at Hillhead, so there was very little space to move around. Luckily, he was friends with the guy who lived directly across the hall, who also kept his room open to provide a little more room. This guy I assumed was from India (I don't think I ever actually met him), who apparently had invited many friends also from India,--I met a guy called Sid, from a town near Delhi--and together with Freido's friends, who were mostly Germans, the party made for a interesting dichotomy of Indians and Germans, with a little French, Swiss, and Scottish mixed in. Phil of course, being from Germany, felt more at home than I did, so I let him introduce us to everyone.

How shy I was during all this! On the whole, I would consider myself a naturally reserved person, as most mid-westerners are, but not to the point of almost being afraid (I am ashamed to say it now). I followed Phil around for most of the time, not saying much, unless he had introduced me or someone had asked me a question, which was rare. Most people can spot this sort of fear in someone, and naturally shy away from it themselves; for it seems a little courage is needed for a conversation to thrive, courage to share a little bit of yourself to a stranger. Shyness tends to prefer asking questions, creating the air of an interview; and what people enjoy being interviewed besides those few who like to hear themselves talk? Both sorts, those who ask everything and tell nothing, and those that ask nothing and tell everything, are dull in their own way.

But what was I afraid of? Was it the fact that no one was American, or even British? Yes, that was slightly intimidating, but only at first. One of the grand facts of the world is that we are all essentially the same. Hence, two people should more or less be able to find something in common, either to agree or disagree about. Was it that English was only one of a few languages being spoken? No; for all could speak English if they had to, that is, if they were speaking to me. So what was it? The external circumstances, though they may have heighted the degree of my shyness, were not its source. It must have been something in myself that kept me from sharing things personal; that kept me from disagreeing with a certain opinion, if I did indeed disagree with it (if there is one chief fault among the people of the midwest, its the fault of being too agreeable!); in short, it kept me from telling the truth! Of course one is not usually called to say the whole truth, in these sorts of situations, but whatever is said must be of the truth.

Have I lost anyone? Maybe you would understand me if I said the one lesson I took from these two nights out, is that there is no ruin but dishonesty. I didn't feel that all was right inside me afterwards, for I spent my energy in trying to please others in mere agreeableness (with lots of nods of my head), instead of just simply trying to tell the truth. The man who came to this earth and said he was the Way, the Truth, also said he came to serve. And the wish to please others is something very good in itself, and can never go wrong if it shows itself in bodily service--for that is truth and keeps no room for talk--but it is surely a disservice to our neighbors if our one aim is to please their opinions, and in so doing gratify their pride. We ought all to keep the Truth ever in the back of our minds, as the grounds of all conversation, and the source of all service.

So it seems my shyness was the result of not having enough confidence in the truth. Oh I must speak plainly! It came from a want of faith in God. The shy person who is not selfish all through, will always error in placing himself in a subordinate position to his neighbor, who is almost always the one with more confidence. People talk of having confidence in themselves. It is an idea turned hellwards if it means confidence in one's own abilities because they are his own. As soon as the person regards his talents as his own, he (by he of course I mean men and women) becomes essentially selfish. Confidence ought to come from a belief in a God who gives his children a share, and therefore their own little free will in the universe, that they may choose to do his. The confident Christian recognizes this will in every little act he does from day-to-day, believing it to be God's work, and so does it. Speaking the truth in public conversation is only one branch on the tree of faith.

Cheers!