Apparently, lots of interesting things happened on 27 January: in 447, the Walls of Constantinople were severely damaged by an earthquake; in 1142, Yue Fei was executed; in 1186, Henry VI got hitched to Constance of Sicily; in 1343, Pope Clement VI issued some Bull called Unigenitus; in 1936, the BBC began its first public broadcasts; in 1974, the Brisbane River breached its banks in what was the largest flood to affect the city; in 1980, Robert Mugabe returned to Rhodesia; in 1984, Michael Jackson’s head caught fire during the filming of a Pepsi commercial; in 2010, Barack Obama made his first State of the Union address and Steve Jobs unveiled the iPad tablet. It’s also the date upon which the following people died – Rita Angus, Mahalia Jackson, John Updike, J.D. Salinger, and Howard Zinn.
Some cool stuff happened too: The trial of Guy Fawkes began; the National Geographic Society was founded; the Red Army liberated the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp; the Paris Peace Accords officially ended the Vietnam War; and Lewis Carroll, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling and David Strauss celebrated their birthdays.
But by far the most interesting and cool thing was the birth of Ambrie Jordyn Goroncy. Her birth last Friday (when God ceased knitting and became a midwife), during respectable hours, was anticipated in this poem, and follows fairly swiftly on the heels of that of her awesome brother Samuel Jamieson, and some five years after that of her theologian-sister Sinéad Chloe (regulars here to PCaL will be familiar with Sinéad’s developing and prayerful theology). All occupants at our house are tired and well, including the sheep, one of whom recently gave birth too. So far, Ambrie seems perfect. That will change when she becomes a Christian at her baptism on 4 March.