Just a thought

From iGoogle's Quotes of the Day:

In the United States there is more space where nobody is than where anybody is. That is what makes America what it is.
  - Gertrude Stein

I think this is part of why we find life here sometimes challenging.  We are used to the idea of space.

One place I'd rather not eat . . .

No. other. comment.

Random Thoughts

The weather has turned cold here.  Two nights this week have reached 60.  The children wake up and shiver, rooting around for blankets in the hidden corners.  How used to the heat we have become.  But the poor feel the cold most of all.  They do not - cannot - eat enough to produce extra body heat.

My garden is growing.  Beans are reaching for the sky, lettuce trying to peek through.  The tomato plants are gorgeous - sprouting new leaves nearly every day. But the carrots are being rebellious.  They seem to prefer dying underground to growing toward the light.

School is nearly finished for the year.  Songs and prayers, sums, wars, alphabets, and radish sprouts all studied, ingested, retold.  And we are changed for the doing of it.  Perhaps the teacher-mommy most of all.

A local girl, without a father, and with a mother whose new husband does not want her around, has found in me a soft spirit.  She is certainly in need.  Her grandfather, upon whom she relies for shelter, is badly disabled with leprosy.  But I am limited by how little of her need I can understand.  She had no shoes, it seems.  She has no sweater for these cool nights, or so she tells me.  It may very well be truth, but I can not read between the lines.  I can not see into her soul.  I must ask others to do this for me.  So I have given a little - our eldest's  sandals, too small for her by a bit, but something; a little food; some clothes for a younger sibling.  But mostly, I wait to see what our co-workers can discern of her true need.  It is hard to know how to help best.

A 4-year-old-girl's evening prayer brought a chuckle:  "Dear Jesus, thank you for Mommy and Daddy and me and everybody in the whole world and my brothers and the neighbors and my friends, and that man to get out of jail (she refers to a colleague).  And thank you that they live in a wood house and everything is ok. (??? perhaps the beavers in the Narnia book we are reading?) And Amen.  I said AMEN!

Little moments stitched together.  This is life.

in a day

40. A day to be reminded . . .

41. . . . of hands . . .

42. . . . and feet . . .



43. . . . and purpose.

It's all grace, all from his hands.


Photos from a clinic I was able to attend.

After the Storm

After the storm I wrote about last, we were out driving to visit a friend/co-worker. It is actually fairly unusual for us to drive anywhere, so I was glad for the chance to see the damage. I was relieved to see that while some fields were damaged, they were for the most part ones that were ready to harvest. So while the plants are laying down, it will not be much extra work for those that hand-cut the stalks.

Praise God!

Storm

A quiet evening. Children tucked into beds, adults sharing a game and quiet laughter around the table. But it was coming. The wind. The rain. Hints of it had lingered in the heavy air all afternoon. My shirt soaked from the heat of the kitchen as I made pizzas for them all, I wished for relief. A breeze. Rain.

But not like this. Not a storm where the rain is blown across rather than down. My comfort is nothing compared to the trauma that this storm will cause.

All around us, the rice paddies stand full and green. Each plant with its head bowed low, heavy with full grains. But not yet ripe; not yet ready for the hands that will cut each stalk, one by one. The storm season has been gentle this year. But this storm, in this place, will cause untold suffering. Delicate fields will be flattened under the weight of their still-green food and the force of the assault. The heads will have no chance to ripen once their stalks have been broken.


Already, our neighbors are suffering. Their staple provisions cost more than they can pay. So many are starving, some quickly, most slowly: the slow death of perpetual hunger.

I whisper, Lord, have mercy on these who don't even yet know you. Spare their fields. Give them another day, month, year to hear your Name.

Tonight, all is dark and quiet. The storm has passed, moved southward on its destructive path. Only the light of day will show the result. Thousands will wake early and survey their future.
Let the rice stand, Lord - and stand in the gap for those whose food has fallen.

Of giving

One of the strange challenges we face in living in a developing country is what to do with the "stuff" we no longer need. Like any westerner living here, we have an embarrassingly large amount of stuff. And those around us are unbelievably devoid of stuff. They own only one or 2 pieces of clothing. They have no table, no chairs, often not even enough food. Toys are unheard of.

So, it seems, the problem should be easily solved. Simply give our excess (outgrown clothes and toys, for example) to those around us. But the HOW of that is the complicated part.

The area our work covers is home to 7 million people. Probably 75% of them are as poor as I described, or nearly so. So what do we do? Were we to simply walk down the street and hand things out, we would be instantly mobbed. (Actually, that happens whenever we walk down the street). Do we ask local colleagues to get the word out that we have kids clothes available? Then we will have a line stretching from our door for miles. To date, we have tried several approaches, none of them wholly satisfactory.

There is no clearinghouse, such as the Salvation Army or Goodwill with donation boxes strategically placed around the town.

One thing I have been doing is to give clothes to mothers who come to the door asking. Usually the wives of patients in our hospital, several come once or twice a year. Sometimes I will also give them a toy or two. Does this kind of handout really help?

But (thankfully) the numbers for this are low, and the pile of remaining goods stays large. I hate storing (and possibly having things rot while in storage) piles of outgrown clothes, so I have given things to some of the manual laborers we know for them to distribute in their villages. Do they do this or do they sell the clothes and keep the profit? I will never know. Does it really matter anyhow?

One of the regular ladies came to my door last week. I always try to chat a bit with the children, though they usually are pretty frightened of me. While she waited in a chair on the veranda (kept there for unexpected visitors),I pulled out a few girl's outfits (from a bag ready to go to a village) for her daughter. Grabbed 2 shirts - almost outgrown - from Wonder Boy's drawer, and scrounged up a pair of sandals for his bare feet. She asked me for another toy. As we have just returned and most of the toys are still in a box somewhere, I said no. She left without a pleasant word or farewell. I felt a bit like she had come to my house to "go shopping".

I don't need to be thanked, but I also don't like to feel used. Yet I find myself frustrated by my own annoyance at her when I hear the echo of God's voice in Isaiah 53:

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;

and

because he poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors. (NIV)

Of what consequence is my comfort when he gave all for me?

And then tonight, this reminder from Isaiah 58:

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter--
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

It often isn't easy to be "rich" is so poor a place. But it gives me an opportunity to worship God through serving those who come to my door or live in the local villages. May I do so with joy through the grace He gives.

Returning again

It continues to amaze me how time can fly. How is it possible that our 3 month "home leave" is over and we are back "home" in our host country? Where did the time go? Well, I do know that for me, most of the month of January went to coughing. Nasty bugs you have over there in America. I had better stay here where we only have bird flu, fillaria, malaria, dengue fever, leprosy, tuberculosis, cholera, dysentery, Japanese encephalitis ...

While looking for a basic broccoli soup recipe today, I ran across this. WHY would you want to do this??? As if finding interesting recipes is not time consuming enough?

We are now 2 days into our new year of homeschooling. Everyone is doing very well, especially considering the circumstances:

This is the living room, which was being sanded to remove some of the chalk that had been applied to the walls to prepare them for painting. No, I don't understand that either. And, my camera lens was not dirty. The dirt you see was the chalk dust floating in the air.



Welcome to the bedroom. Yes, the living room furniture has invaded the bedroom. And it seems the mattress has taken wing - perhaps looking for a less dusty abode.


And the playroom/family room has taken on the role of storage chamber. Hmmm, the mattress landed here. I'm not sure the its new home is any less dusty. The computer desk seems to be holding everything except the computer.



The porch. We have to walk through here to get to the kid's room, the school room, and the laundry. 'Nuff said.



Ahhh! We have arrived in the school room. The scene above is the result of telling the kids to "Carry these things upstairs and stack them neatly in a corner."



And the school table. In our absence, it became home to the pictures that should have been hanging on the walls. I have managed to carve out a space for my coffee mug, though. Always take care of the important things first!



And finally, will someone please tell me why our closet is now in the school-room???

On the up side, 3 of our 7 boxes of books arrived today. Receiving books is always cause for celebration! Praying for the other 4 boxes to make it through. Will keep you posted.

Around the world

It has been a month since I posted. A crazy, travel filled, stress-laden month. A last-minute trip to a neighboring Asian country, continued on to another country. A quick return home to pack up and move out of half of our home. Then the final, big journey, halfway around the world, across 14 time zones, to our "home country" for 3 months of leave.

What a month. We traveled on 2 trains, 6 airplanes, countless taxis and occasional subways. Not to mention 30 + hours in the car. Our children have slept in no fewer than 10 places in the past month, not counting airplanes.

In all of this time, we have visited one emergency room, 2 Sunday Schools, and 3 hotels. We have already enjoyed time with 4 grandparents since arriving in the US. God is good. We are together. And we are rejoicing!

Of Bugs and Bats

Perhaps this isn't the most spiritual topic, but I needed some distraction today anyhow. Last week, every evening's peace was broken by my wild children an unbelievable loud squealing noise from outside. I am not talking about the rickshaw-mounted sound systems that roam the villages all night, advertising a movie or promoting some politician or spreading health awareness messages. This was a squeal of more natural origins. It was a bug, or rather, LOTS of bugs, making this loud, sustained noise. It was literally loud enough and of such a frequency that it hurt my ears. If I had to guess, I would say it was cicadas, though I have never been much at insect identification. Insect AVOIDANCE, now there is something I can talk intelligently about!

I am only guessing about cicadas, but I did find this great website from the ABC of Oz (that is the Australian Broadcasting Company) with this photo of a cicada that certainly looks like the giant bugs I flick off our screens from time to time. I was not surprised by the volume of these big bugs - up to 120 dB! I have felt the pain!

Well, the noise of last week has been replaced by a noise that, if possible, is even louder. We have a large tree in our yard that I'm told is a rubber tree. This is not your average, US indoor potted ficus, however. This is a REAL ficus elasticus - in the wild - no wait, if it were truly in the wild, it would be inside my house, not in the garden. Ok, not in the wild, but outside in the sub-tropics, where it has room to thrive. It has 7 primary trunks growing from a central base and an above ground root structure that looks like a floor covered with snakes. Should a real snake gets in there it would be pretty tough to see!

Around this time of year, that giant tree flowers and grows fruit, which attracts the animal causing my head to ache today: the Indian Flying Fox. For those of you that don't instantly see the difficulty in that name, I will give you the alternate name: Giant Fruit Bat.

The Indian Flying Fox is the second largest bat species in the world, according to my 5 minutes of internet research at slower than dial-up speeds. Their wing span is around 4 feet - roughly the size of my 7-year-old. I told him he could lay down and use a bat for a blanket. He didn't go for that. Hmm . . . do you think that will give him nightmares?

So, from dusk until 9 pm, we have a continuous screaming contest concert in our front yard. After dark until morning - well, I don't know when they stop because I have this thing about sleeping at night. But before the sleep, you literally have to shout to make yourself heard over the din if you are on our porch.

There are a variety of bats in South Asia. My in-laws had tiny bats living in their ceiling vents when they lived nearby. When we are in the capital we see a medium size bat quite often at dusk. But none seem to be as loud or as active as our colony of flying foxes.

A few interesting tidbits: Indian Flying Fox bats are sacred in parts of India. In Pakistan, the fat from some bats is used for medicine. Some bat species are under threat from humans - who kill them for food (YUCK!). Bats do sometimes carry rabies, and have recently been implicated in SAARS. At least one of the common names for our bat neighbors here translates into some kind of snake. They are kind of creepy, so maybe it is a good name.

Adding to the ruckus is the rain-like drumming of their discarded fruit seeds on our tin roof. Don't you wish you lived here?

A Birthday Dinner

Today I have been cooking. In our house, the birthday dinner menu is generally the choice of the Birthday boy (or girl). Of course, living here, I sometimes have to make adjustments based on what I have on hand or have access to. For instance, vegetables just aren't available right now. For the children this would not be much of an issue, but some of us like vegetables.

Today's menu was based on a more practical theme, however. In less than 4 weeks, we leave for 4 months in the US. So, after an inventory of my freezer and pantry, I planned every meal between now and when we go, with the hope of leaving a minimum of food items in storage here.

Tonight's birthday menu has come together beautifully:

A small pork roast with a cranberry-orange sauce.
Potatoes Au Gratin
Broccoli & Cauliflower - steamed
Apple & Craisin compote

Dessert:
Pineapple cream cheese coffee cake
Homemade vanilla ice cream with toffee bits and mini chocolate chips

The only things I would have liked in addition to the above would have been fresh dinner rolls, but I had to draw the line somewhere!

Now, what is interesting is how this meal came together. Based on my menu calendar, I had chosen the pork roast for today. I noticed a tin of jellied cranberry sauce (left over from last Thanksgiving) while rooting in the pantry the other day for a can of tuna. So, off to the internet to find a recipe that combined these 2 items. Voila! Oh, except I did not have cranberry juice, so I substituted orange juice, freshly squeezed from the Malta oranges that became available last week.

Next came the side dishes. I was hoping for noodles because I LOVE egg noodles with pork. But, making homemade noodles was too much to do today. So, on to plan "B" - potatoes. I dug out bits of 3 different cheeses from the depths of the fridge, all rather desperate to be cooked with, so Au Gratin was the logical choice. Vegetable was easy. Either it came from the freezer or there was not going to be any vegetable. I am out of canned veggies except 1 can of peas that is earmarked for a tuna noodle casserole later this month. The freezer yielded some broccoli & cauliflower. Finally, we just bought apples again for the first time since I can't remember when. Sadly, they were too mushy to be nice to eat. So, they had to be cooked. Add in an open packet of dried cranberries (Craisins), some sugar and cinnamon, and the extra orange juice, and we have a nice compote.

Dessert was even more interesting. A can of local pineapple needed to be used. Cans are notoriously poor around here, so it definitely wouldn't last too long. And then, there was the cheese. Yesterday, DH tried to make ice cream. But when he heated the milk with the sugar in it, it curdled, indicating that the milk was no longer as fresh as it had once been. Our milk is delivered to the door every day, still warm and usually with cow hair floating in it. We boil it and refrigerate it, but it does not keep too long. I couldn't see wasting all of that milk and sugar, so I drained it through cheese cloth and had a wonderful, pre-sweetened soft cheese. The need to use this up before it spoiled pushed me to look for a recipe that would use both the pineapple and the cheese. In the end I chose a recipe that I made once before. Of course, that meant some substitutions also. Sour milk for sour cream, pineapple for apples, my cheese for cream cheese etc. By the way, the ice cream turned out wonderfully on the second try: fresher milk.

And whose birthday was it that was celebrated in this interesting way?

Mine!

Good thing I like to cook!