Things I am thankful for this year

This is a hard one to write. We are coming off of one of the hardest months we have ever had overseas... one of the hardest in our life. But God is still good and I have much I can find to be thankful for. 

Disneyland. Hard to believe it was just this January we were at Disneyland with the little boys and Brant’s parents. What a magical day and beautiful memories. We still talk about it regularly. 

Our teammates. I love our tribal teammates. I am so, so thankful for them. We have been blessed and challenged and laughed and cried together. The boys’ best friends are our teammates’ kiddos and they play wonderfully together. We thank the Lord all the time for the team He has given us. 

Noise ordinance laws and sealed houses in the States. Not sure why they need noise laws in a place where all the houses have glass windows and insulation, but I am thankful I got to grow up in such a place. 

A ministry we are good at. We started this year very uncertain of what our future would hold. While it certainly has not turned out like we planned, the Lord has given us a ministry where we can use our gifts and serve Him. We know that is a gift.

My trip in October. I got to go off-island to a ladies missionary retreat. What a gift! It was such an amazing time - great food, fun times with friends, relaxing spa treatments and great times to study the Word and pray with other ladies serving the Lord in our corner of the globe. Wow, what a treat.

The ability to see fruit from our work. I have seen very clearly how the Lord has used us in certain situations this year to bring glory to Himself, serve other people or explain the Truth of Scripture to others around us. Has been as if God has said very clearly “This is just where I want you for just this moment” and I am thankful for that grace He has given us. 

Truths from the Word that the Lord is teaching me. Again and again the Lord has very  clearly spoken Truth from His Word to my heart this year. Time after time I have received an email from a friend with encouraging verses that I had just read the day before. Or a sermon or song confirming what I’ve been studying in my Bible study. There have been times in my life when I feel like God is actively teaching and speaking into my life and this year has been one of those. 

Friends. When Elijah was so sick earlier this year, I had friends I could email or text and get an instant reply “I am here. I am praying.” I am so blessed with friends around the world and so thankful for the support group the Lord has given me. 

Soccer. This spring, during our stressful re-acclimation to life here, a friend suggested I start playing soccer with the missionary ladies’ intramural group. I have not played soccer since college.... and I don’t know that you can count 2 years of bench sitting as really playing on my college team. :) But I have LOVED playing every Wednesday morning here. Such great exercise and stress relief and great fun being with all the other moms who used to play soccer in college. :) 

Fast internet. We switched internet to a new 3G cell thing... you know, that’s supposed to be for all the iPhones and smart phones. But no one here uses that kind of phone service, so we have really fast (relatively!) internet for a quarter of the price of the dial-up that’s offered for regular internet usage. We can actually almost stream a YouTube clip in real time. 

Increased support. Our last term we were scraping to get by.... as in counting each penny and not having 5 dollars extra in a month. Our support has gone up a bit and I feel like we can breathe and actually occasionally go out to eat. And we bought a water heater for our shower! Extravagance. :)  

Peace with the culture. I see new missionary ladies come every year and go through such horrible culture shock. I used to be one of them. I’m not now. I am so, so thankful. Yes, I have awful “I hate this culture” days (like with the music!) but for the most part, we are acclimated and used to all the craziness around us. It doesn’t throw me off kilter to see a guy hunting a pig in my backyard or naked kid running down the road. I can handle the heat (better!) and all the power outages without feeling helpless. I’m thankful to the Lord for bringing us through that transition time.

The new mall. While we were in the States, they built a new mall in the big town two hours’ from us. There’s a frozen yogurt shop and a bakery and a coffee shop. There’s a sporting goods store that actually carries real American brands like Speedo and Crocs and Nike. There’s a department store that occasionally carries import kids’ toys. There’s a grocery store that is a tad bit like a SuperWalmart. And.... there’s a movie theater. The theater actually just opened two weeks ago, and we haven’t gone to see a movie yet, but.... BUT.... there is the opportunity to. Someday we could go see a movie if we wanted to. It makes life so much easier to just have the knowledge that you CAN do something. :) Thankful that civilization is coming to our corner of the globe.

The Pirate Party

No secret this has been a really hard month for us. But the Lord is faithful and life is calmer (at least today!) and so I'm going to try to catch up on blogging a bit.... We did have some fun moments this past month.

Like the Pirate Party.... held to welcome back our co-worker's 22 month old son. He was med-evaced out of country when he started losing control of his eye ball... literally could not move it. Turns out it was a really weird virus attacking the muscles around the eye ball. Yes, life is that crazy here.

Part of his treatment is wearing an eye patch for the next month. So we all got together and made a Pirate Party to welcome him back and show some empathy. :) The party was thrown together in about 30 minutes (Frantic call from Ryan, our co-worker, "Our kids said you were doing a Pirate Party today? Is that true?" Recalling an off-handed comment I had made to all the kids earlier the day before: "We should do a Pirate Party and all wear eye patches when Logan gets home!" So, of course, we have to do the Pirate Party.) 

There were Sharpie marker tattoos, courtesy of Uncle Ryan, because everyone knows all pirates have tattoos.  

There were cardboard swords. Because the best part of being a pirate is having a sword. 

And there were cloth scrap hats and eye patches.... because the whole point of the party was wearing the patches. :)

After everyone was decked out, we went outside to hunt pirate treasure (popcorn and Skittles) and to fight with swords. Logan, the star of the show and 4th from the left below, was a bit out of it from the 14 hour flight back and the previous 5 days of tests and poking and prodding. But he liked the popcorn. :) 

It would have been a perfect evening after a very stressful week, but right in the middle of the party I got a call from a new missionary gal whose husband was in a tribe at the moment. She had been in a motorcycle accident with her 2 little bitty boys. Brant and Ryan dropped the party and hurried out to help her (in another town 45 minutes away!) and that evening we ended up baby-sitting scraped and bruised little boys while she was taken to the hospital for x-rays. (Broken elbow.)

Arrgghhhhh.

What we put under Ezra's pillow tonight...

Poor baby is only 4; no, he did not loose it naturally. We were all outside waiting for the US Consul General to show up for lunch (when my dad asked how we managed that... we just invited him when he was in town doing paperwork and he accepted!) and all the kids were running around... and Ezra fell into the ladder on the playground. Brant brings him to our house, covered in blood, just at the same moment the Consul shows up. So I missed lunch and fed Ezra ice cream instead. That "made it feel better" - so did the new can of Play Dough and the $2 the Tooth Fairy left under his pillow that night. :) And we never did find the tooth... 

Today

This morning I woke at the unearthly hour of 6:15 to take a guest to the airport. Short term, college aged gal. Happy and chipper to be returning to the safety of home. I was a tad grumbly that I couldn’t have a cup of coffee before we left and was only half awake as we pulled into the airport parking lot. 

I soon woke up.

As we were walking down to the entrance, people starting running past us. Running. I heard shouting and yelling. Arms raising in fists.

“Walk a little faster,” I encouraged her. “Don’t look back.”

The police had already formed a line across the entrance by the time we got to the door. They squeezed us past only after she waved her ticket. We managed to get into the terminal and I caught a glimpse of a mass of people swarming in a tangle of fists and shoving outside. I frantically texted Brant that a riot was breaking out. The airport went into lockdown mode. What do I do?

All my training kicked in. So thankful for that training. Look for a place to escape. A place to hide. For things that could be thrown or used as weapons. (Not that I would use them, but to try to figure out what people could hurl at each other.) Look for people in the crowd I might know from church; perhaps another missionary traveling off island today. No one.

The police came in. Doors were locked. We were safe inside. Witnesses to the chaos on the other side of the glass. Safely behind the glass. I prayed the glass would hold. I frantically texted Brant again. We couldn’t talk on the phone. It was too loud. 

In an hour it was over. The police had squelched it all. What had started as a fist fight between two enemies and escalated to a full on brawl between anyone happening to walk past ended with me walking out of the airport quietly and safely. Shaking, I called Brant from the safety of my car. 

“I’m coming home. It’s over. She’s on the plane.”

I didn’t make it home before Brant called back. Our teammates, dear friends who had just returned from furlough 2 weeks prior, were on the way to the hospital. Their youngest, a little boy not yet 2 years, was losing control of one of his eyes and couldn’t see. The same eye that had been hit last week when he fell off a railing at the mall. 

Something like that you can’t exactly get checked out here. The doctor at the local hospital recommended they get out of country as soon as possible. Brant rushed to the airport - thankfully calm - to buy plane tickets. I came out of my “what in the world did I just witness?” fog to start digging through as of yet unpacked suitcases to find clothes and diapers and toiletries for an international trip. Crying, we packed and prayed and sorted clothes and figured out insurance and passports. Less than an hour later, she was on the plane, carrying the baby. I picked up their other son from school to tell him that his mother had already gone.

And I came home. Exhausted and spent. I drank my coffee. I rocked my Caleb, fevered and dripping with sweat and coughing and hacking. This whole crazy morning he had just lain on the couch alone and sick. We rocked and prayed and sang songs. That’s what mama’s are supposed to do when their little guys are sick. Not hide from rioting masses. Not comfort distraught friends. Just rock and sing and pass the tissues..... 

Tonight there is a peaceful tension in our home. We dispensed medicine to sick boys and got new library books this evening and had hamburgers (pulled from the freezer for such a day as this!) and tucked little boys into bed after reading chapter 6 in The Boxcar Children. I am drinking hot chocolate as I write.... a treat from the States savored on evenings when the temperature dips below 80. It seems like a beautiful end to a very difficult day. But my mind is still reeling from these past 16 hours. My friend is still flying, even as I write, and will be late into the night. Tomorrow brings CT scans and MRI’s and blood work. Fear. Exhaustion. Stress. The unexpected. Another day. I am learning submission to the Lord, one very hard day at a time. What the Lord gives in a day, I am to be thankful for, and to embrace as from Him. It’s hard. Very hard. I am just thankful not all days are like today.

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 ever 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. :)