A sad state of affairs . . .

I live on a tropical island with an average daily temperature of 88F. I work in an air conditioned office. This should be a nice combination. Instead, I am sitting in my cubicle wearing jeans, a long sleeve shirt, a cardigan, took my open toe shoes off and put on socks and have now donned winter gloves. I'm still cold and I am thinking about putting on a fleece jacket. Slight insanity, eh?

Sunday Evening Worship

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called Wonderful Counselor,

Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Isaiah 9:16

Last weekend, some friends and I went to a performance of Handel's Messiah. Scripture set to music has got to be one of the most beautiful things in the world. As I listened to the choir sing the Isaiah 9:16 passage, I found myself meditating on what it meant for the goverment to be on Jesus's shoulders. At first, I thought about the oppersion of the earthly government - the paranoid one that tried to have him killed as a baby and the apathetic, placating one that sentenced him to death. But that just didn't seem to complete fit. I have also been meditating on Colossians 1: 15-20:

The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.

For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth,

visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities;

all things have been created through him and for him.

He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

And he is the head of the body, the church;

he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead,

so that in everything he might have the supremacy.

For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him,

and through him to reconcile to himself all things,

whether things on earth or things in heaven,

by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

I am not a theologian by any stretch of the imagination, but as the choir sang the words proclaiming the birth of the Son of God, I was overwhelmed in praise that He is above all.

So, if you have a chance to hear a performance of the Messiah this Christmas or Easter, which will be here before you know it, take your Bible with a good concordance and a notebook and prepare yourself to have a really good Bible Study and quiet time with God.

A Star is Born

I've always had this kind of secret desire to be an actress, and I think my dream has been realized. (Although the pay wasn't as good as they say it is.) A friend of mine came down to edit her advocacy video for her people groups. I was invited to the premiere viewing in the media consultants cramped office. (I didn't get to wear a big fancy dress though.) I had made a visit to her area last spring, so I was having fun pointing to the screen saying, "I've been there, and "I've been. . .hey, that's me!" Now, of course, only my mom will be able to tell who it is in this video, but if you would like to see my acting debut . . . I'm sure my friend would enjoy your prayers for her people groups as well.

I've been shot

Last year, I discovered that I have bursitis in my hips, which totally explains the whole Grand Canyon experience. I started having problems again last month, so I an orthopedic doctor this week.

Now I have to tell you about Dr. S - she is a tiny, spunky Indian woman, who has seen and operated on almost half of the personnel in the Pacific Rim.

I was having lunch with some friends and fellow Dr. S patients the day before my appointment, so they, Mom #2 & Mom #3, decided to accompany me to my appointment as "family" support. Mom #2 needed to have some stitches removed for an earlier Dr. S surgery, so it was going to be a very productive morning at the doctor's office.

So while Mom #2 is getting her stitches out, Mom #3 and I go in for the consultation with the doctor. After the initial discussion, of course, Dr. S wants to take a good look at the hip. Mom #3 is now seeing a whole new side of me. Granted I've seen her right after surgery, so I think we are even. It's amazing how "medically" close you become when living overseas - discussing illnesses at the dinner table, sharing the latest remedies for various forms of . . . movements.

Now Dr. S begins pushing on my very sore hip and asks me which spot hurts the worst. You would think doctors would learn by now that once you start that it ALL hurts. But she did find her answer when I nearly jumped off the table. She then suggests a shot of steroids to help with the pain and to calm down the muscles and other things. I'm thinking . . .that sounds nice and that it will be like getting an immunization shot. I should have clued in when she said she would give me a bit of local anesthetic first. It really hurt, but then I found that the anti-inflammatory meds she gave me work really well.

I am now doing exercises to strengthen my leg muscles and trying to "take it easy." So, now taking people on walking tours of my island for awhile. But I think I've also learned that I've got to cut back on one of my favorite hobbies. No, putting together jigsaw puzzles have no affect on my hip - my other hobby - driving and singing really loud and off key. I've found that driving a standard in traffic really aggrevates my hip. All the more motivation to do my exercise.

Here, let me help you with that

I often wonder why it is that I struggle so much with new foods, but this story might help shed some light on that subject.

I went to a friend's house last month to celebrate the end of the fasting month. The main celebration activity, besides karaoke, is, of course, eating. I sit down at the table and my friend begins telling me what the various dishes on the table are. This can be a blessing and curse - knowing which dish is lung and which one is regular beef is nice. But then there are the times when all the dishes are weird and you just don't want to know. She points to the chicken dish for this year and excitedly tells me that this is a special type of chicken. Her sister-in-law leans over to tell me, in a very happy tone, that they call this "retired chicken" because it's really old. She then proceeds to plop a big ole piece on my plate. I poke at the piece with my spoon and declare with relief in my voice that I must have just gotten a piece of bone, so I move onto to some newer pieces of meat.

I'm doing just fine with the safe dish I found on the table when the sister-in-law reaches over to my plate. "Let me help you with that," she says as she begins to pick of miniscule pieces of meat off the retired chicken for me. I thank her with a smile knowing that I know HAVE to eat this chicken. OK, granted, it wasn't absolutely horrible, but my stomach did let me know that it was done taking in anymore new foods.

Language Study – Day 28

Motorbike lesson #2. I think my ambition for being able to say I can drive a motorbike has waned since it took me more than a week to get “back in the saddle.” I think it was also the nightmares about trying to stop on really steep hills and rolling backwards. But I finally gave it another go. But this time I was even prepared with a helmet. Bright blue, as if I didn’t stand out enough already and it only cost me $1.45. Again . . .Mom, Dad . . .breath.

This time I also felt more in control and smoother in using the accelerator. It’s funny/scary how much you have to adjust when using the same hand to control the gas and brake. This time I actually followed my teacher out into light traffic out of the neighborhood. I even got up to 40 kph, passed cars, dodged people and potholes. I did chicken out when we got to a main thoroughfare though. People are a little less patient with “a learner” there. So, I at least have the basics down on how to drive a motorbike and can do it if I find myself in a pinch. I wonder if that is a skill that I should add to my resume . . .

But here is the big question: Is it thrilling or disconcerting when you go over a speed bump fast enough to bounce yourself off the seat? Discuss amongst yourselves. . .

Language Study – Day 26

I knew it would happen eventually. I had heard stories about it. It happens to everyone in some form or fashion. Yep, the complete maddening feeling of utter confusion. It creeps up on you slowly, and before you know it, you are over the edge. We were learning how to tell time, which sounds easy enough. And for the hour to the half-hour it was a breeze. But once we got past the half-hour everything started to fall apart. I tried to keep it all together as long as I could, but eventually the confusion took over and I just had to cry it out. Now keep in mind that this is a culture of complete non-criers. My instructor was a little flustered about what to do to help. It’s funny now . . .also at the sound of tone the time will be jam setenagh delapan malam (7:30 p.m.).

Language Study – Day 23

You would think that when your next door neighbor and mom away from home comes for a visit that you would have a nice relaxing lunch and day of shopping. Not so, when she is also a language consultant and evaluator. She definitely made me work for my lunch.

The first test was buying a basket. Step 1: figuring out the word for basket. Step 2: trying to say that I want a small, square basket. Step 3: asking for a discount. Here’s the irony, the next day’s language class include shapes and information on bargaining and discounts. We did have success though, she did get a basket.

As we were leaving the shop, she gave me the encouraging pep talk: “Wow, you can say a lot more than I thought you would be able to at this point,” and “I only saw you turn red once, but it didn’t last very long.”

There were several more tests along the way as we shopped and took taxis to different locations. Most of the folks I talked to knew enough English for her to ask, “so, do you understand my friend when she talks to you?” I held my breath as I waited for a yes or no. . . Got all yes’s. Yippee Skippy!!

Language Study – Day 16

The one culture shock I have experienced here so far is my lack of easy mobility. My lovely coordinated, structured, timely, air conditioned bus and subway system is gone. Also gone is my nice flat land. The hills around here are better than a Stair Master. The easiest way to get around is by motorbike. They can easily navigate through traffic jams and all the one way streets and narrow lanes. So, when I was told that there was a motorbike that wasn’t assigned to anyone and that lessons would be provided, I jumped at the chance to learn. Now I have ridden on motorbikes in several countries now, but I have discovered that riding and driving are completely different. When you realize the responsibility required for remaining upright, you gain an all new appreciation for the four “walls” of a car. My first attempt – made a good run through my neighborhood . . .in first gear . . .top speed of 20 kph . . .only fell into one ditch . . .minor bruise, no blood.

Mom, Dad . . . breath.

Language Study – Day 14

17 August is Indepence Day here. The English Centre here held a celebration the following Saturday, and I decided to dive deep into culture by attending. I had heard about silly games. I can handle a 3-legged race, pie eating contests, etc. . .but I discovered a whole new level of holiday games. . .eels. Yes, those slimy little suckers are a big part of a much anticipated annual game. Of course, being the foreign guest I just had to participate. The people here are so friendly; it is extremely hard to say no, as you can see from the pictures. In fact, one of the guys who helps run the centre teased me about seeming like I was having a hard time fitting in and getting along with others. I think I was in every picture that was taken that day and talked to pretty much every person that attended. It was a great day, and I even managed to practice my language while trying to figure out how to handle an eel.

Allison, one of my teammates, with the hand-off. Yes, they are alive.















The bottle I had to get the wiggly little suckers into after the hand-off. We lost by one eel . . . thank goodness.

Language Study – Day 8

This was my first venture out into the kampong (neighborhood) on what I thought was a picture taking expedition, but turned into language practice. I live in the same area as the language school I am attending. Evidently, the folks around here are used to the white people coming around between 4 – 6 p.m., because I was greeted by everyone with eager faces waiting the days round of questions. In fact, most of them already know what the day’s questions will be. At this point, though, all I have been taught is basically how to greet your neighbors, how to greet good friends you haven’t seen in a long time and how to greet strangers. Not a whole lot of conversation going on at this point. But I was greeted by total strangers with the informal greetings for neighbors that you see on a daily basis. It does boost one’s confidence though to find everyone so eager to talk to you, instead of running into their homes.

So after my first encounter and running out of things to say, I was stopped by two ladies playing ping pong. A little ping pong never hurt, and where my verbal skills lacked hopefully my pitiful playing skills would fill in for some entertainment. Now remember I thought I was going on a photo expedition, so I have a friend’s digital camera with me. I couldn’t decide if I needed the regular lenses or the wide angel, so I decided to bring my purse, fully-loaded, along as a camera bag. As I pick up the ping pong paddle, I set my purse down on the ground, which evidently was a no-no. My new friend, Ibu Linda, shook her head, picked up my purse and handed it to her neighbor, who was standing there. “She hold for you,” she said. I agreed with a pleasant smile on my face at their thoughtfulness as a knot forms in stomach and my Dad’s voice rings in my ear about how this is probably not a safe situation. I tried with all my might to play ping pong, practice language, keep a watchful eye on my bag, pray and pretend like all this was normal all at the same time. In between serves, Ibu Linda and I discussed her children and where I was from. But, I have to admit that the panic and worry got to me and I quickly came up with the word for tomorrow. So with a promise for a rematch tomorrow I reclaimed my purse, and carefully determined that it at least still weighed the same. I also made a pact with myself to leave the purse at home tomorrow. Lessons learned. . . .

Language Study – Day 1

Language classes don’t begin until 14 Aug, but the adventure has already begun. Today, I met Sissy, who showed me around the city a bit. Nothing outrageous like falling off a motorbike happened during the morning. But everything unraveled when it came time for me to prepare dinner.

First, came the revelation that I should wash things before use. I discovered that when I poured a precious pouch of Kool-Aid into a pitcher only to discover a neat, now purple, spider web inside. There just was no salvaging that galloon of Kool-Aid.

Then came the making of Mac n Cheese. OK, I cheated a little. I brought this from Singapore. But I actually got some good advice once to bring some food items with you, so you will have something to eat until you find the grocery store and figure out what is and is not available. I was pretty certain that butter and milk were a safe bet. Finding a proper pot on the other hand proved to be a challenge. After determining that rust was not on the list of recommended daily vitamins and minerals, I put the first pot back in the cabinet. My second attempt proved less hazardous to my health, but not exactly a pot you serve guests out of. I did also find in my search a strainer and some Tupperware containers for the leftovers – miracles in my book. Mind you this cabinet is all the size of a small suitcase.

After washing all these dishes it came time to light the stove. I don’t like fire. It makes me really nervous. So, I light my match. Holding the match in my right hand, I turn on the burner with my left hand and cautiously move the match towards the gas. It ignites and suddenly shuts off again. So I repeat. And it happens again. That’s when I realize that after turning on the burner with my left hand, I need to let go of the knob. Right hand lights the fire, brain screams, left hand turns off the fire. I think I got everything working together on the fourth try, and dinner was a success. Except for one last thing . . . are bananas supposed to have crunchy things in them?