Every once in a while I feel my heart stirring with anxiety and consequently irritableness. It's usually from something I am longing for and going without. Something that is making me feel trapped. Out of control. It's in these moments that God meets with me. Gently whispers, shows me something to embrace that he has given me. In these moments I see clearly I can choose. I can continue in my wretched state of mind and spiral downward in my feeling of hopelessness or I can find joy in a small blessing that He has brought my way. Let me share a moment with you.
Christmas is approaching and yet our family wouldn't know it. We are missing all those cultural cues that surround the American during the Holidays. Crisp cool air, holiday music playing in the stores. Frequent trips to get a peppermint mocha at Starbucks. Red, green, silver, and gold arround. I am missing out on Christmas.
But then we start reading Chronlices of Narnia to the kids at bed and the discription of the four kids having thier adventures in the snowy wardbrobe stirs an experience within like that of a warm cup of coco after stepping out of the chilling snow in winter. Hearing the voice of Aslan and feeling God's nearness, His soveriegnty and his loving kindness. The sacrifice that Jesus made for our treachery.
There are many new ways that I can learn to expereince this season. Reading Narnia on J's computer at night is one of them. It's been a gift that each member has looked forward to at night.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
She walks!
This was taken sidways but you can tilt your head to watch. You can feel the excitement in the room. We have a mobile little girl! These were her first steps and we captured it on J's phone. She is getting braver by the minute. Watch out India!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Shopping for chicken
.
We rolled up to our destination in the hippest, well cheapest ride around. I argued with the Rickshaw Wallah that I wouldn’t pay him more than we agreed, and after I had enough arguing I just walked away and let him complain to the passerby’s he had pulled into the dispute.
We approached the cages. Stacks of them filled with chickens. They lined the walkway up to the man in charge of this operation, a 14 year old boy. I said “Muje eik”. He picked one out and weighed it and spout off some number I didn’t know in the form of a question. “Ji” I replied, not knowing what he said, but by the looks of the chicken it would fit in my biggest pot.
Then Arwyn, Malachi and I proceeded to watch the process. He pinned back the chickens wings and head and slit the neck so quickly. Then he pushed him in a box and closed the lid. We heard lots of thumping around for a few minutes then the dead chicken was removed, bloody and well, dead.
He cut off the feet and head and
started to pull the whole skin and feathers right off. So from that I gathered that the box was a steaming process. The chicken was still twitching when he asked me if I wanted it into “char” pieces. I said yes, the less I had to do to the chicken the better. He cut it open and the heart was still beating. I was too busy snapping pictures to see what the kids looked liked watching all of this.
Soon we had our chicken bagged and we were back on our rickshaw towards home. In bed that night Malachi didn’t want to wear his red shirt because it looked like blood.
The next day I had them draw about this in there observation journals. Arwyns elaborate drawing had scenes. The front page was the boy and chickin coming out of the cage. The back was drawn all in the red crayon. Pretty self explanatory. One interesting fact was that on the front page the chicken had a voice and on the back the chicken voice marks were gone.
We rolled up to our destination in the hippest, well cheapest ride around. I argued with the Rickshaw Wallah that I wouldn’t pay him more than we agreed, and after I had enough arguing I just walked away and let him complain to the passerby’s he had pulled into the dispute.
We approached the cages. Stacks of them filled with chickens. They lined the walkway up to the man in charge of this operation, a 14 year old boy. I said “Muje eik”. He picked one out and weighed it and spout off some number I didn’t know in the form of a question. “Ji” I replied, not knowing what he said, but by the looks of the chicken it would fit in my biggest pot.
Then Arwyn, Malachi and I proceeded to watch the process. He pinned back the chickens wings and head and slit the neck so quickly. Then he pushed him in a box and closed the lid. We heard lots of thumping around for a few minutes then the dead chicken was removed, bloody and well, dead.
He cut off the feet and head and
started to pull the whole skin and feathers right off. So from that I gathered that the box was a steaming process. The chicken was still twitching when he asked me if I wanted it into “char” pieces. I said yes, the less I had to do to the chicken the better. He cut it open and the heart was still beating. I was too busy snapping pictures to see what the kids looked liked watching all of this.
Soon we had our chicken bagged and we were back on our rickshaw towards home. In bed that night Malachi didn’t want to wear his red shirt because it looked like blood.
Malachi-isms
Here is a recent naptime, he fell asleep while playing with his lip.
Last night at bedtime:
M:Daddy I want to pray for Faiz, he is sick.
D: okay
M: Daddy whats sick?
D: He is running a fever
During Prayer...
M: God please make his fever run away from him
Bedtime beauties
She looks like she is pondering something.
We find Malachi in the most precarious positions. I remember when he was somewhere between 1 and 2, he would be in mid sentence in the car and fall asleep.
so cute.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Monday's thankfulness
Today I will tell stories for each thing I am thankful for, the thankful aspects will rise like fat in milk, wait...impurities in gold? no... um....tortilni in boiling water when its ready. MMMM.... Tortelini... its been too long. Ok back to my stories.
God has brought me my very own “Man of Peace”. Each and every day He brings me new people to be my friends. When I first met him he came in my living room while I had just finished making breakfast and took Vange out of her walker and was about to take her out the door when I snatched her (graciously) back to eat breakfast. I think its been almost two weeks now. And now I know his name and trust him on completely different levels. Today I let (was forced) him carry Vange while he drove his Rickshaw one handed. Arwyn asked “Mom why are you upset?”, observant girl. But I learned a new level of trust and letting go. He is the sweetest man. He completley adores Vange. Every morning he comes in to pick her up for her morning “biscuit”. Now she leaps out of my arms to go to him and WAILS when he leaves her. He is from another city, but is here for work. He hopes to move back to all his 6 kids and wife someday, but the thought of him leaving makes me cry (surprise , surprise these days). Whenever I can find him near the home I bring him meals or have him in to dine with us. I love taking care of him. He is the grandfather I never had around. And he is around every day, many times a day. I am SO grateful for the “Gatekeeper”.
Last night Gatekeeper introduced me to The English Teacher. She is my new cultural informant. After asking all the “American viewed” personal questions that I have grown quite used to answering. She was disgusted that I was being overcharged for my rent and Urdu tutor. She discovered I was looking for a maid to help with cooking and cleaning and said that she would find one and set it all up. She also is the first person I have met that has an RO filter for water, so now when we get a permanent residence I know who to ask about where to get one and how to set it up. I am grateful for the English teacher.
The said Tutor ( I had to say that word since I have been seeing it more and more on the blogs I follow, one must be a ligitimate blogger, I think, to use it) is a HUGE blessing. Even though I have learned she milked me of my MOOLAH because I am American, she is an answer to prayer and I am loving the language I have been able to use from learning in our sessions. I am really only paying her about 4 dollars a day, but here that is WAY to much. Tutors here make about 4-10 dollars a month. So for me to pay that amount makes me look really foolish or way to extravagant. There is a difference between being generous and being stupid here. And aparently I am still stupid. But I am thankful for the tutor.
The current time is the official India naptime, which I am also thankful for (anytime between 3-6pm, or all of it). But I am not napping. Why you ask? Its not that I have not tried. I have 3 times. When I first drifted off to sleep I was woken by J's friend loudly knocking on the door. To which I threw on my Hijab and did my wifely duty of serving them cups of water brought on a tray. Then I returned to my lovely bed. I was then awoke by a louder and longer “door beat”. I knew who this was. Our daily visitors of neighborhood boys. “F” is 7, “Z” is 12, “F” is 11, and “S” is 9. They have been visiting to play with Arwyn and Malachi. Mainly they take me up on juice and cookies while they watch Amereican Cartoons that they have never even heard of, like Incredibles, Stuart Little, and Veggietales. I think I am growing quite fond of “Laptop CD now!” in the most demanding voice you can imagine by F, the 7 year old.
Yes, it was them at the door, and when I peeked out and shushed them, “Sona” I whispered, indicating that we all were napping, well, everyone but me. I saw that they had brought their blessed goat to meet Malachi and Arwyn. Now is like Christmas time for Muslim's, the 2nd Eid (pronounced E-e-e-d) where they buy goats and sacrifice them in remembrance of Abraham being given a provision of a sheep instead of sacrificing Ismeal (the version believed by Muslim's). They then eat the goat meat. One pretty funny thing is that now the streets and neighborhoods are filling up with goats, they will be EVERYWHERE and then all the sudden they will be all gone. Ok, back to my story, After they turned to go the goat pooped its tiny little pellets all over my living room floor all the way to the door. They giggled and escaped. YES, I am thankful for my children's precious friends. And YES I am thankful that I can call someone to come clean up poop off my floor. In India you can do this. All you stay-at- home- moms might be thinking “why can't we call someone to come clean up the poop messes in our house?”, cause you don't live in India.
Today I was supposed to meet one of my new neighbor friends at the Market to get help buying Salwar Kamise and blangles. But we never foundeachother, for reasons I am unsure of still, she went to the market then sent her maid, who speaks no english, to tell me that I must take myself to the market then find her, which didnt happen. So I wasn't going to waste my rickshaw fare to themarket so I wandered around keeping an eye out and looked for things I might still buy on my own. I came across a lady getting Henna, which I have been wanting to do for years, seriously. So after finding out how long it took and how much it cost I decided to make my trip worthwhile by getting my own Henna. …. I am thankful for new experiences.
God has brought me my very own “Man of Peace”. Each and every day He brings me new people to be my friends. When I first met him he came in my living room while I had just finished making breakfast and took Vange out of her walker and was about to take her out the door when I snatched her (graciously) back to eat breakfast. I think its been almost two weeks now. And now I know his name and trust him on completely different levels. Today I let (was forced) him carry Vange while he drove his Rickshaw one handed. Arwyn asked “Mom why are you upset?”, observant girl. But I learned a new level of trust and letting go. He is the sweetest man. He completley adores Vange. Every morning he comes in to pick her up for her morning “biscuit”. Now she leaps out of my arms to go to him and WAILS when he leaves her. He is from another city, but is here for work. He hopes to move back to all his 6 kids and wife someday, but the thought of him leaving makes me cry (surprise , surprise these days). Whenever I can find him near the home I bring him meals or have him in to dine with us. I love taking care of him. He is the grandfather I never had around. And he is around every day, many times a day. I am SO grateful for the “Gatekeeper”.
Last night Gatekeeper introduced me to The English Teacher. She is my new cultural informant. After asking all the “American viewed” personal questions that I have grown quite used to answering. She was disgusted that I was being overcharged for my rent and Urdu tutor. She discovered I was looking for a maid to help with cooking and cleaning and said that she would find one and set it all up. She also is the first person I have met that has an RO filter for water, so now when we get a permanent residence I know who to ask about where to get one and how to set it up. I am grateful for the English teacher.
The said Tutor ( I had to say that word since I have been seeing it more and more on the blogs I follow, one must be a ligitimate blogger, I think, to use it) is a HUGE blessing. Even though I have learned she milked me of my MOOLAH because I am American, she is an answer to prayer and I am loving the language I have been able to use from learning in our sessions. I am really only paying her about 4 dollars a day, but here that is WAY to much. Tutors here make about 4-10 dollars a month. So for me to pay that amount makes me look really foolish or way to extravagant. There is a difference between being generous and being stupid here. And aparently I am still stupid. But I am thankful for the tutor.
The current time is the official India naptime, which I am also thankful for (anytime between 3-6pm, or all of it). But I am not napping. Why you ask? Its not that I have not tried. I have 3 times. When I first drifted off to sleep I was woken by J's friend loudly knocking on the door. To which I threw on my Hijab and did my wifely duty of serving them cups of water brought on a tray. Then I returned to my lovely bed. I was then awoke by a louder and longer “door beat”. I knew who this was. Our daily visitors of neighborhood boys. “F” is 7, “Z” is 12, “F” is 11, and “S” is 9. They have been visiting to play with Arwyn and Malachi. Mainly they take me up on juice and cookies while they watch Amereican Cartoons that they have never even heard of, like Incredibles, Stuart Little, and Veggietales. I think I am growing quite fond of “Laptop CD now!” in the most demanding voice you can imagine by F, the 7 year old.
Yes, it was them at the door, and when I peeked out and shushed them, “Sona” I whispered, indicating that we all were napping, well, everyone but me. I saw that they had brought their blessed goat to meet Malachi and Arwyn. Now is like Christmas time for Muslim's, the 2nd Eid (pronounced E-e-e-d) where they buy goats and sacrifice them in remembrance of Abraham being given a provision of a sheep instead of sacrificing Ismeal (the version believed by Muslim's). They then eat the goat meat. One pretty funny thing is that now the streets and neighborhoods are filling up with goats, they will be EVERYWHERE and then all the sudden they will be all gone. Ok, back to my story, After they turned to go the goat pooped its tiny little pellets all over my living room floor all the way to the door. They giggled and escaped. YES, I am thankful for my children's precious friends. And YES I am thankful that I can call someone to come clean up poop off my floor. In India you can do this. All you stay-at- home- moms might be thinking “why can't we call someone to come clean up the poop messes in our house?”, cause you don't live in India.
Today I was supposed to meet one of my new neighbor friends at the Market to get help buying Salwar Kamise and blangles. But we never foundeachother, for reasons I am unsure of still, she went to the market then sent her maid, who speaks no english, to tell me that I must take myself to the market then find her, which didnt happen. So I wasn't going to waste my rickshaw fare to themarket so I wandered around keeping an eye out and looked for things I might still buy on my own. I came across a lady getting Henna, which I have been wanting to do for years, seriously. So after finding out how long it took and how much it cost I decided to make my trip worthwhile by getting my own Henna. …. I am thankful for new experiences.
Monday, November 08, 2010
Malachi-ism
Malachi: "When will I be Indian? When I live here a long time and speak Urdu?
Mom: "Well your heart will probably feel Indian after awhile, but your body will always be caucasian american."
after a simple explanation of that...
Malachi: " how long will it take for my skin to get dark?"
Josiah and I joke that Malachi's Indian counterpart is Gupta from "Outsourced", he will talk talk talk to anything with a pulse.
Mom: "Well your heart will probably feel Indian after awhile, but your body will always be caucasian american."
after a simple explanation of that...
Malachi: " how long will it take for my skin to get dark?"
Josiah and I joke that Malachi's Indian counterpart is Gupta from "Outsourced", he will talk talk talk to anything with a pulse.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Ragpickers
I had something happen today and I was just getting online to type/process it when I saw this email from a friend I trust and decided to open it, even though normally i don't open ones that look like these. They usually have some touching story and then say at the bottom send this to 10 people or else... And I don't believe those statements. It actually makes me mad when manipulation is attached to anything to do with God.
But I am glad I opened it because it totally coincided with what is on my heart tonight. My story is beneath this one.
'My Feet Are Off The Ground'From Tyler Perry:
Writer and Actor
This morning I awoke and was so frustrated about all of the stuff that I'm dealing with in trying to get this studio open. I was about to open my mouth and start complaining when I remembered something that happened to me about a year ago.
I was walking to my car when this woman who appeared to be homeless started walking towards me. I'm ashamed to say this but I thought, 'I don't feel like being hustled today.' Then I got quickly convicted. I felt guilty so I started digging in my pocket for some money. As she got closer I noticed that she had the kindest eyes that I had ever seen. As I was reaching into my pocket she started to speak. I thought, 'Here goes the sales pitch'. She said 'Excuse me sir, I need some shoes. Can you help me?' My eyes filled with water because I remember being out on the streets and having only one pair of run over shoes. I was taken aback for a second.
I took her inside the studio and had my wardrobe people find shoes in her size. As she put the shoes on she started crying, praising God and thanking Jesus, and saying, 'My feet are off the ground! My feet are off the ground!' Several of the wardrobe people started crying. I was crying. But I never forgot those words. 'My feet are off the ground!' I thought, 'Wow! All she wanted was some shoes.' She quickly disappeared and never asked me for a dime. I realized that I still had the money in my hand so I went out looking for her. She was gone just that quick so I looked all around the neighbourhood for her. I found her standing on a corner looking down at her shoes, still crying. I was so touched. I asked her how she had gotten homeless. She told me that she had AIDS and that she was waiting to get into a shelter.. She said that her family had turned their backs on her and that she had no place to go, but she knew that God would make a way for her. I said to myself, 'He just did.' Her faith and her praise moved me. I took her to a nearby hotel and put her up until she was able to get on her feet. I had someone that worked for me to check on her from time to time and to make sure that she had food and clothes. After about a month or so we lost touch, but I never forgot her.
This past summer I was shooting 'Daddy's Little Girls' and this woman walks up to me smiling. I didn't recognize her face, but her eyes were familiar.. She had on a really nice dress and her hair was done. It was her! She told me that the little help that I had given her had changed her life. She was in a house now and doing very well.
I said all of that to say this. After I met this woman, every time I think about complaining and mumbling I remember, 'My feet are off the ground!'
~Tyler Perry
So last night I had a complete meltdown/hissy fit. It was over selfish things, I was boo- hoo ing about my new life compared to my old one and the special people I left that I miss so much. Instead of focusing on what I do have. This was a big one, I cried for hours till I finally fell asleep at 3 am.
Then today when I was cleaning up around our place and taking all the trash bags out to the side of the street I saw them, "Ragpickers". Three little kids digging through the trash for food and recyclables. They were filthy. Matted hair. Dirty clothes, probably their only pair. They saw me and ran up and grabbed my trash before I could get there. Like ravished dogs scrambling for food, they dug through dirty diapers and used wipes to find scraps of our uneaten food.
I brought another bag out after and one kid got it before another little girl and then they were desperately fighting over it.
I went inside broken. I had apples we hadn't eaten in a few days, we probably wouldn't. Should i bring those out? This issue is so complex. There are millions of kids in India like this. Once they know someone gives, many might be back. I can't give to all. And how can I help in a way that is lasting? I immediately asked Josiah if he thought it wise to bring apples out them. But I couldn't even get the question out before I started bawling.
Surely Jesus sees these little ones. He created them. He knitted even them in their mother's womb. Knowing what their life would be like. Surely he was even around this while on earth. How did he address it? How did he feel about it? How was he surrounded by it and not hardened to it? He says that the World will know we follow him by our love for each other and others. And a true sign that you love God and follow him is caring for Orphans, widows, and the poor. How can I do this? When the need is overwhelming, and I only have so much, how can I make a lasting difference? How can I even sleep tonight clean in my bed, with my mosqito net, fan on and bottled water at my head. When precious little children are digging through my trash right outside the wall?
Thinking back about my mind and heart last night, I am ashamed. I did bring three apples out and they ran to me and grabbed the apples out of my hands. Even that didn't feel like enough. I am not sure how to even end this post but I know that this is the begininng of something that God is stirring in my heart.
But I am glad I opened it because it totally coincided with what is on my heart tonight. My story is beneath this one.
'My Feet Are Off The Ground'From Tyler Perry:
Writer and Actor
This morning I awoke and was so frustrated about all of the stuff that I'm dealing with in trying to get this studio open. I was about to open my mouth and start complaining when I remembered something that happened to me about a year ago.
I was walking to my car when this woman who appeared to be homeless started walking towards me. I'm ashamed to say this but I thought, 'I don't feel like being hustled today.' Then I got quickly convicted. I felt guilty so I started digging in my pocket for some money. As she got closer I noticed that she had the kindest eyes that I had ever seen. As I was reaching into my pocket she started to speak. I thought, 'Here goes the sales pitch'. She said 'Excuse me sir, I need some shoes. Can you help me?' My eyes filled with water because I remember being out on the streets and having only one pair of run over shoes. I was taken aback for a second.
I took her inside the studio and had my wardrobe people find shoes in her size. As she put the shoes on she started crying, praising God and thanking Jesus, and saying, 'My feet are off the ground! My feet are off the ground!' Several of the wardrobe people started crying. I was crying. But I never forgot those words. 'My feet are off the ground!' I thought, 'Wow! All she wanted was some shoes.' She quickly disappeared and never asked me for a dime. I realized that I still had the money in my hand so I went out looking for her. She was gone just that quick so I looked all around the neighbourhood for her. I found her standing on a corner looking down at her shoes, still crying. I was so touched. I asked her how she had gotten homeless. She told me that she had AIDS and that she was waiting to get into a shelter.. She said that her family had turned their backs on her and that she had no place to go, but she knew that God would make a way for her. I said to myself, 'He just did.' Her faith and her praise moved me. I took her to a nearby hotel and put her up until she was able to get on her feet. I had someone that worked for me to check on her from time to time and to make sure that she had food and clothes. After about a month or so we lost touch, but I never forgot her.
This past summer I was shooting 'Daddy's Little Girls' and this woman walks up to me smiling. I didn't recognize her face, but her eyes were familiar.. She had on a really nice dress and her hair was done. It was her! She told me that the little help that I had given her had changed her life. She was in a house now and doing very well.
I said all of that to say this. After I met this woman, every time I think about complaining and mumbling I remember, 'My feet are off the ground!'
~Tyler Perry
So last night I had a complete meltdown/hissy fit. It was over selfish things, I was boo- hoo ing about my new life compared to my old one and the special people I left that I miss so much. Instead of focusing on what I do have. This was a big one, I cried for hours till I finally fell asleep at 3 am.
Then today when I was cleaning up around our place and taking all the trash bags out to the side of the street I saw them, "Ragpickers". Three little kids digging through the trash for food and recyclables. They were filthy. Matted hair. Dirty clothes, probably their only pair. They saw me and ran up and grabbed my trash before I could get there. Like ravished dogs scrambling for food, they dug through dirty diapers and used wipes to find scraps of our uneaten food.
I brought another bag out after and one kid got it before another little girl and then they were desperately fighting over it.
I went inside broken. I had apples we hadn't eaten in a few days, we probably wouldn't. Should i bring those out? This issue is so complex. There are millions of kids in India like this. Once they know someone gives, many might be back. I can't give to all. And how can I help in a way that is lasting? I immediately asked Josiah if he thought it wise to bring apples out them. But I couldn't even get the question out before I started bawling.
Surely Jesus sees these little ones. He created them. He knitted even them in their mother's womb. Knowing what their life would be like. Surely he was even around this while on earth. How did he address it? How did he feel about it? How was he surrounded by it and not hardened to it? He says that the World will know we follow him by our love for each other and others. And a true sign that you love God and follow him is caring for Orphans, widows, and the poor. How can I do this? When the need is overwhelming, and I only have so much, how can I make a lasting difference? How can I even sleep tonight clean in my bed, with my mosqito net, fan on and bottled water at my head. When precious little children are digging through my trash right outside the wall?
Thinking back about my mind and heart last night, I am ashamed. I did bring three apples out and they ran to me and grabbed the apples out of my hands. Even that didn't feel like enough. I am not sure how to even end this post but I know that this is the begininng of something that God is stirring in my heart.
Saturday, November 06, 2010
little defiance
I hear the smacking of gum as I sit here on the computer, Vange is in a walker right next to me and I am feeding her "heart-shaped" crackers. This doesn't sound right. I look over and she pulls gum out of her mouth and hands it to me.
WHERE did that come from?
she points to a pot with a dead plant and pile of trash in it. SHE ATE USED GUM! YUK!!!
NO! I scold her. There is no training this child. I flick her hand and she scowls at me and hits me back. But continues to disobey. This one is a different breed.
Friday, November 05, 2010
Malachism : love language?
Josiah took Malachi on an errand to the bank and a few market stands to get bananas. Usually when the kids accompany one of us to the market they get inundated with sweet treats from the vendors. They really are the only white kids to spoil. So after Josiah had visited two places where Malachi received a free banana and chocolates, they went to a third place where he recieved nothing.
Malachi: " How come nobody loves me here?"
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Thankful for this day
2 days ago...
Today I rocked India. Its not because we sucessfully found Baskin Robins and had it delivered to our doorstep...mmmmm...mocha almond fudge baby..... no, that was the icing on the cake... but because I took all three kids on one of these
to new friends house.... That means I explained where we were going, bargained my price, perched myself with 3 kids and a bag, redirected him when he wasn't going the right way, found my place, and did the same on the way home. When success or failure meets me at end the of a journey, it makes all the difference in the world about how I feel about India.
The other success was making my first meal. It was a hodge podge of things, because when I got back from the market there was no running water to use, and novice me hadn't stored up a bucket of extra pani, for instances such as these. But the point was that I cooked my own dinner, no take out or PB and Nutella. Here are some veggies from the market and I have never seen such small garlic in my life. Now I have to use 10 instead of 5 when the recipe calls for 2 cloves.
Yes, its thursday that I am actually posting this, but it formed in my mind Tuesday. And we are in Indian time here people so here is my Monday of gratitude. Today I was thankful for today. And when I made that visit to a freinds house, I made two new special friends. My first here actually, and it was so unexpected it felt like God's little gift to me, wrapped in a bow.
Monday, November 01, 2010
Goodbye to Madam and Boss
That is what they called us at the hotel. Whenever the phone would ring for Josiah and I would answer they would ask “Is Boss there?” My first reaction was “did he just say that?!!!” My second was, “yeah your talking to boss”. Well, I wished I said that. Just Kidding. But we said goodbye. Our friend found us a place to stay for a little bit. It's closer to the university. But we are still looking for a family to stay with before we move in to our own place.
When we were reading an Indian culture book, they referred to it as “mosquito-ville” or something like that. Poor Malachi has proven tastiest to the sqeeters. Our first few days he looked quite miserable. But we got a hold of repellent that we started lathering day and night.
Evangeline has had constant diarrea till today, poor girl. This evening while I was lounging with them and she was scootin around in her $3 dollar walker, (that barely looks like it would hold all of her 22 lbs.) I smelled a poop. But, I smelled a solid poop. Isn't it funny how us mom's can become so familiar with our child that we know. That is a teething diarea. THAT is a sick Diarea. Yogurt poop. Solid one. Constipated, yeah! I might not need a wipe. Well, I smelled solid, and when I investigated I was excited to be correct. It had been awhile.
Anyway, consequently she wakes a few times a night to guzzle down most of a sippy cup of water. So, I have been exhausted during the day. Yesterday I hit another emotional ride. I didn't have any specific reason why I NEEDED to cry, but I just needed to. I didn't even need a trigger. Josiah hugged me, told me I was his hero. Like no other woman in the world. I gave him my “your just sweet talking me” look. Then he went out and bought me snickers and mosquito nets for all my babies to sleep under and this:
(which has become our latest hobby, so fun!)It's basically a mosquito vaporizer. Wave it at a squeeter and it's soon smoke in the air. He knows how to make a woman happy, (well happier).
I have come along way in the crying department. As a child I would only cry in the dark, in my pillow. Never in front of people. Not even my own parent's. I thought that crying made me look/seem weak to people and I never wanted to show my weakness or seem “out of control”.
But today I am fine crying in front of people, mostly. I have even come to terms with the fact that I won't always have a legitamate reason for crying, but I should do it anyway.
And yesterday I recognized that the culture shock was taking its toll on me, along with the passing around of diarea, non-communication, and lack of American food and independence.
Jesus was saying “come and lay down, cry and sleep, it's OK. It's what you need. This is what today has in store, tomorrow I will give you strength for something else.”
And he did. I woke in the night to find myself in the bathroom for over an hour, felt something like childbirth and I my arms went tingly and limp. I thought they would wither up and fall off. I crawled back in bed and told Josiah that maybe his 6 am walk with the neighborhood Patriarch wasn't gonna happen. I couldn't care for the kids like this. And when morning came I was right. No more bathroom trips, I just slept ALL DAY long. And still woke up tired. Josiah took a trip out at 5 this evening to get some errands done and when he came back I had enough energy to walk next door for a visit, another baby step in our journey to find a home. I met a few more women, more motherly and warm than the previous, giving me hope that someday I may have good friends here.
Oh sweet Jesus, this is quite a journey you have us on. So glad your strength is mine for the taking.
When we were reading an Indian culture book, they referred to it as “mosquito-ville” or something like that. Poor Malachi has proven tastiest to the sqeeters. Our first few days he looked quite miserable. But we got a hold of repellent that we started lathering day and night.
Evangeline has had constant diarrea till today, poor girl. This evening while I was lounging with them and she was scootin around in her $3 dollar walker, (that barely looks like it would hold all of her 22 lbs.) I smelled a poop. But, I smelled a solid poop. Isn't it funny how us mom's can become so familiar with our child that we know. That is a teething diarea. THAT is a sick Diarea. Yogurt poop. Solid one. Constipated, yeah! I might not need a wipe. Well, I smelled solid, and when I investigated I was excited to be correct. It had been awhile.
Anyway, consequently she wakes a few times a night to guzzle down most of a sippy cup of water. So, I have been exhausted during the day. Yesterday I hit another emotional ride. I didn't have any specific reason why I NEEDED to cry, but I just needed to. I didn't even need a trigger. Josiah hugged me, told me I was his hero. Like no other woman in the world. I gave him my “your just sweet talking me” look. Then he went out and bought me snickers and mosquito nets for all my babies to sleep under and this:
(which has become our latest hobby, so fun!)It's basically a mosquito vaporizer. Wave it at a squeeter and it's soon smoke in the air. He knows how to make a woman happy, (well happier).
I have come along way in the crying department. As a child I would only cry in the dark, in my pillow. Never in front of people. Not even my own parent's. I thought that crying made me look/seem weak to people and I never wanted to show my weakness or seem “out of control”.
But today I am fine crying in front of people, mostly. I have even come to terms with the fact that I won't always have a legitamate reason for crying, but I should do it anyway.
And yesterday I recognized that the culture shock was taking its toll on me, along with the passing around of diarea, non-communication, and lack of American food and independence.
Jesus was saying “come and lay down, cry and sleep, it's OK. It's what you need. This is what today has in store, tomorrow I will give you strength for something else.”
And he did. I woke in the night to find myself in the bathroom for over an hour, felt something like childbirth and I my arms went tingly and limp. I thought they would wither up and fall off. I crawled back in bed and told Josiah that maybe his 6 am walk with the neighborhood Patriarch wasn't gonna happen. I couldn't care for the kids like this. And when morning came I was right. No more bathroom trips, I just slept ALL DAY long. And still woke up tired. Josiah took a trip out at 5 this evening to get some errands done and when he came back I had enough energy to walk next door for a visit, another baby step in our journey to find a home. I met a few more women, more motherly and warm than the previous, giving me hope that someday I may have good friends here.
Oh sweet Jesus, this is quite a journey you have us on. So glad your strength is mine for the taking.
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