On power issues and blaring music

I hate it here. 

That’s all there is to it. The heat. The bugs. The constant shoving of powerful drugs into my kids’ bodies just to keep them semi-healthy. The oppression and injustice and poverty I see every single time I step outside my house. Problems I am powerless to fix.

My kids can eat meat on a daily basis and take medicine when they need it and get good schooling. They wear good quality clothes and shoes that fit. They have birthday parties and decorate Christmas cookies and went to Disneyland last time we were in the States. They have a future because of their passport and the color of their skin and the language they were born speaking. Their little national friends dream of such luxuries and will never attain them, simply because of their nationality and the color of their skin. I hate it. And I am powerless to fix it all.

I am totally exhausted. These past weeks the music has been blaring non-stop all night long. The drunk guys and “bad” kids across the street have been partying. Bob Marley. Elvis Presley. A bunch of songs I can’t make out over the garbled speakers pointing straight at our bedroom that play all hours of the day and night. Brant finally dug up a couple pair of ear plugs last night at 2 in the morning. They muffled the music, but did nothing for the beating bass that reverberated through the walls. And there is nothing I can do to stop it. 

Today Brant and I went to the nice new hotel in town for lunch. The boys stayed with some of the guests here at the guest house. We were so looking forward to a break from the busyness of the week. An hour after we had placed our order, they finally brought Brant’s sandwich. Twenty minutes later, when my burger still hadn’t showed up (was still “cooking,” they said) we walked out. I was in tears. Powerless, powerless.... even to order and eat a nice meal.

I hate the feeling of being powerless. Of not knowing all the social rules that govern this land and not knowing how to really help those who are in such pain around me. I hate the suffering I see and I hate the suffering the Lord asks me to endure.

I don’t want to endure this journey of sleepless nights and exhausting days. I didn’t ask for this when I signed up to serve the Lord. Back in America, I have friends who long for children and can’t conceive, and friends who long to be married and aren’t. They didn’t ask the Lord for those paths.... He gave them. 

Last night as I was lying awake, crying out to the Lord for silence, I remembered the line from the Laura Story song, “What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?” And I argued with the Lord. I don’t want to know God through sleepless nights. I don’t want the lessons He has to teach me through accepting this as from His hand. I don’t want to acknowledge that this is HIS doing.... that He is using this moment - this dark, loud, sleepless night - to teach me that true rest comes only from Him. That He can use what appears horrible to show His deep, abiding love for me. That what seems cruel - this unanswered prayer - is really His mercy and grace in my life to bring me into a deeper relationship with Him and make me rely on Him more fully.   

My issues of liking to feel in control and liking to be able to fix things.... they transfer into my relationship with the Lord as well. I want to pick my own testing grounds. Let me get a good night’s sleep and I will be ready to do battle for the Lord and accept whatever He has for me to learn. But this week that is not what the Lord has for me. He has exhaustion. He gives headaches and sleeplessness. It is His love for me that brings these into my path. Can I praise Him through these? Can I bring Him glory through this?  I am tired. Very, very tired. Yet is that not the point? That I can do nothing - not even worship the Lord - in my own strength. It is only His Spirit within me that can produce true worship for the King of Kings. And His Spirit never tires.

So should I pray that the music will stop or that my heart will be humbled before my Maker? Do I want a good night’s sleep more than I want to learn obedience to walk in a manner worthy of my calling.... regardless of how tired I am?

Regardless of how tired I am. 

The paper airplane birthday

 We had a really fun day celebrating Elijah's 9th birthday. He settled on a "paper airplane" birthday party which turned out to be really fun and simple and cheap. :) I made the mistake of looking on Pintrest for ideas.... hello, I am so out of American culture, but seriously, mini-suitcases filled with $50 worth of party favors for each kid at a 1 year old's birthday party???? Cakes that look like wedding cakes for a 4 year old's party? Really?

Anyways, back to the party.... Origami is really big here, so it was no problem getting a ton of different sizes and colors of paper. We found a stack of books on paper airplane folding at the school library (who knew!) and set out all the paper and books and markers and let the kids go to town. I was surprised at how many kids didn't know how to fold paper airplanes... it's pretty serious business in our house.

What I didn't get a picture of is all the kids "testing" their planes INSIDE our house... it was pure madness. But really fun - because seriously how much damage can a piece of paper do? After almost an hour of folding and decorating and flying inside, we had a flying contest outside (and a decorating contest for the girls). Then we made paper origami cups and did water games with them. 

After a few games, we did popcorn and watermelon and cake. Every birthday party I have every thrown has popcorn and watermelon and cake at it. Cause I can't stand too much sugar for the kids and ice cream here is nasty. :) 

Very simple. Very fun. The kids all had a blast, without Pintrest's help. :) And the birthday boy loved it.

The "real" birthday also fell on "party day" this year, so later we got to do presents from grandmas and family. Presents are a very careful thing here - some kids don't get presents from America sent over, so people keep it quiet if their kids do. 

We have seen Elijah grow and change so much this year. He loves to read and loves school. But he also loves to be with his friends and play outside. He's always planning forts and clubs and making weapons out of sticks and creating grand plans of inventions and crafts. He's very, very independent and stubborn, but still enjoys cuddling with us on the couch and playing games with us. He's definitely moving out of the "little boy" stage and I am sad to see it go, but it's fun to see him become his own person. We love you, Elijah!

What to do With a Bitter Cucumber

So a lot of folk wisdom I've learned in our 6+ years of living here has been a tad on the crazy side... Don't chew gum while you're pregnant or the baby will get stuck inside you. Don't walk with your hands behind your back because that means you're hiding an evil spirit. You get the idea. So when a friend told me a little old lady had shared a trick for getting bitter cucumbers to taste good, I wasn't holding my breath. But wow.... it actually works!

If you get a cucumber that tastes bitter, this is what you need to do... chop off the end and rub it in a circular motion against the rest of the cucumber for about 2-3 minutes. You'll start to see a white foam appear around the edges of the cucumber...

The foam will build - keep going until it seems to have stopped. At this point your cucumber should look like this....

Rinse off all the foamy stuff and repeat the whole process. If very little white appears, you're good to go. Rinse it again and eat it. (You can also cut a slice and taste it to see if you're satisfied.) Totally changes the way the cucumber tastes!

So there's your cooking tip from my little corner of the world. Maybe this isn't such a great secret and all Americans know how to turn a bitter cucumber sweet, but I had to travel 12,000 miles to learn it. :)