Reflective Essays and Poetic Musings by Condemiang + Stories About the World

Christmas is returning once again. I reflect on the sacrifice and love of God, who came to the lowest of places to show us the true path of faith. No longer just the God of the Jews, but now the God of all. Jesus was born when His family, wandering and displaced, had no room at any inn—only a manger in a stable. Laid in an animal's feeding trough, His humble and meager beginnings were no less destitute than the poorest among us. Born the son of an unknown carpenter, He was ultimately crucified between two criminals—or perhaps revolutionaries—with the accusation: "King of the Jews." Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash Why that particular charge? To the religious and political elites—the Sadducees and Pharisees who ruled the world—His radical spirit of transformation must have felt deeply threatening. They could never tolerate doctrinal deviation or religious defiance. To allow such change would have meant the end of their very foundation. He walked among the poor, the s...

Stories of  Little   Happiness – 01 In this place, there are only about thirty days a year—or sometimes even fewer—when the temperature rises above 25°C. So even when winter has passed, we don’t necessarily tuck our thick clothes deep into closets or drawers. Sometimes, in May or even September, mad flurries of snow still pile up. Still, taking out clothes of different thicknesses, shapes, and functions with each changing season brings a small happiness—a kind of quiet excitement. Even though they are the same old clothes we’ve worn every year, they feel like a fresh find when seen again after a long while, offering a little thrill as if we’ve acquired something new. As winter rounds the corner with a determined stride, there is a certain sense of relief in gathering those heavy clothes once more. That simple act is enough to lighten the burden of having to embrace a long, cold season. My little happiness is found even in old clothes, even in the freezing winter.