Sayur Lady

We have two vegetable (sayur) ladies who come down our street almost every day.  One (who is pictured below) says, "Sah-YUUUUUUUUUUUUR!" and the other one hollers, "Woooooooo" in a sort of falsetto voice.  I guess that way you know which lady is coming, if you have a preference.  You can buy vegetables, fruit, fish, chicken and clams (A Clammy Story) and, well, it just depends on the day.  On this day, we bought some bangkwang (did I spell that right?), a white root that is sweet and can be eaten raw like carrots and cucumbers.

The other morning we heard the Es Puter man ringing his bell and Joel prayed for him.  

"God, please bless the Es Puter man with lots of customers so that he will make a lot of money today."  After he prayed, he explained, "I like to pray that God will bless the street vendors."

"Oh, did you pray for God to bless the sayur lady the other day?" asked Seth, "I saw her with lots of customers, that must have been why."

Planty Projects

Joel gets a CLOSE look at some plants!

Our postage stamp back yard is just big enough for some good plant specimens!

Finding treasures...

Examining roots...

Weed experiment.  This is SUPPOSED to show that a plant cannot grow without light.

SO, we put one plant in the sun and one in a box.  And what happens?  The one with sunlight WILTS and the plant in the dark box GROWS!  Oh brother.

Project Peace: Es Puter

Want some Es Puter?  What's that?  Well, we found out when we stopped the Es Puter man as he pushed his  cart down our street.  Each street vendor has a unique sound and part of our Peace Project is to find out which sound goes with which vendor!  The Es Puter man rings a bell (you can see his bell tied to the handle of his cart).  Es Puter comes down our street mid-morning.  He sells a cup of his sweet treat for 2,000 Rp (about 20 cents).  It is a spoon of black rice, a spoon of boiled peanuts and then a scoop or two of milky chocolatey ice cream.

It was fun to try...not on our list of favorite snacks!  Part B of our "vendor goal" is to either go outside and say hi to the vendors we have already met, or use their unique "sound" to remind us to pray for them.  So each day, when we hear the Es Puter man ring his bell, we wave hello to him, or we stop what we are doing and pray for him.

My Shaky Achey Heart

I have been writing about my experiences in Africa.  I haven't posted but one of them here (Hot Under the Collar), but I have been writing about them.  It helps me process!  Some of you have read the little devotion book I wrote called "Villa in the Hilla" (published in 2009 by the prestigious publisher Xerox Laser Copier) but there are probably twice as many more excerpts I want to write before I turn the proverbial last page and shut that book.  I know I'll never shut that chapter of my life, the stories just keep coming to my mind.  I'll lie in bed at night and then an idea will come and I'll have to roll over to reach my bedside table (aka upside down Rubbermaid tub covered with a shawl that is pretending to be a table cloth) and rummage for a pen and scrap of paper to write it down so I won't forget the next morning.

I have a list of all the things I want to write about when I get the chance.  Just little shorties about this and that: lessons I learned, things I thought, amazing people that I met.  I am an idea factory.  But I need to actually sit and write them out.  So two days ago I searched out an old journal.  It is green (my favorite color), leather, worn and crumbly.  There are a few notes from a sermon in the front, and about three pages of English/Arabic vocabulary words written in the back, I must have used this notebook for language learning in the past. The the pages in-between are journal entries. The first entry is July 31, 2009.  But I am looking for a specific entry.  Just before we left our home in Africa, I shared with a group of over 100 colleagues and friends.  I shared verses and I shared how the Lord had led us to this point of moving away from Africa.  I find that entry over on September 26, 2009.  I read over the entry, gathering information for a little tidbit that I wanted to write.  In my list of "Things to Write About," this one is listed as "leaving testimony," and it's what I was planning to write about.  I read over the entry, I read about the people who had become so dear to us, and all the feelings of that evening that we said goodbye come flooding back to me.  My heart beats faster and my hands feel shaky.  I read the verses handwritten in my journal.  They are precious, but that journal entry represents feelings that are still too strong within me.  I can't write about it yet.  Even though it was over two years ago, the emotions are still too raw.  I close my journal.  I'll have to write about something funny, or something more recent.  This subject is still in a place of my heart that is between me and the Lord.  But I'll tell you what, Scripture can always be shared!  Here are the verses I wrote in that entry that made my heart all shakey achey.  I hope they will bless your heart as they do mine!

Jeremiah 10:23  I know, O Lord, that a man's life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps.

Psalm 31:14-15  But I trust in you, O Lord; I say "You are my God."  My times are in your hands.

Psalm 32:8  "I will instruct you," says the Lord, "and guide you along the best pathway for your life.  I will advise you and watch your progress."

Psalm 33:10-11  The Lord foils the plans of the nations; he thwarts the purposes of the peoples.  But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations.

2 Corinthians 4:1  Therefore, since through God's mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart.

Mini Bonfires

Here is something easy and fun to make for any pyromaniacs who might live in your home.

 First you need some crazy participants.

And then you need tuna cans (one per bonfire) and then strips of cardboard.  Roll the cardboard up and stuff them into the tuna cans in a spiral so that you can see the currogated parts.  This makes a honey-comb look from the top.

Melt wax candles on the stove top.  I used an old vegetable can to melt the candles because I didn't want to mess up a sauce pan.  That way I could just throw out the can when I was done.  When the wax is melted, pour it over the cardboard on the inside of the tuna cans to coat the cardboard.

When the wax cools and hardens, you have what acts like a giant candle wick in a can!  You can take your tuna can anywhere and have a ready-made mini bonfire!

We roasted marshmallows with ours.

And told ghost stories.

And had alot of fun!

All These People?

Not too long ago our family visited a graveyard on the grounds of the worship place of another religion.  Our youngest son looked out over the many headstones and said, "You mean all these people died without Him?"

Does this reality burn in our hearts?  What are we willing to do about it?

Hot Under the Collar

Just this morning I got a FB message from a friend whose husband is traveling for the first time in their young marriage.  She encouraged me by saying she remembers how I used to have to "hold up the fort" in Africa when we had three young boys and my hubby was traveling.

Immediately two scenes come to mind, and both involve three little boys, a broken generator, and Kris on a long trip.  Our boys were young, the littlest one still nursing, and Kris had to travel out of the country.  In our dusty little home in the desert, when Kris "got to" travel outside the country, I always fought jealousy...and things always went wrong.  On this particular trip, the generator broke.

We had a generator for the frequent power outages.  At 120 degrees, once the electricity went out, it was only a matter of seconds before we were sweating and tearfully praying for the power to return.  In the mean time we'd crank up our old half-working generator.  Sometimes it worked. On this particular day it did not.

So the first scene that pops into my head is me sitting on the bed trying to nurse my baby.  It is hot as you-know-what and I am dripping sweat.  The last thing I want is a warm little baby body up next to me and I can't understand why my baby would want to drink milk at a time like this.  Logic, of course, flies out the window when one is hot!  I can't help but imagine his little baby belly full of curdled milk.

The second scene that comes to mind is later that day.  I can't get the generator to start and am about to go out of my mind with the heat and three little heat-struck younguns.  I call the generator company in town and use my very best Arabic to tell them the problem.  The man tells me that since I had a friend look at the generator before calling them, the warranty is void.  WHAT?  I explain that my friend didn't touch anything on the generator but he maintains that the warranty is now no good.

"You had some one else look at it, that is the problem," he says to me in Arabic.  And here is proof that our deepest feelings can only be expressed in our heart language:  because I burst out in English, loud English, angry English.  I am pretty sure the loud and angry part translate pretty well even if the words do not.

"THAT'S not the problem!" I say, my voice escalating, "You know what the problem is?  The problem is my HUSBAND is gone and I am HOT!!!!  And I have three little boys and THEY are HOT.  WE NEED THE GENERATOR TO WORK!!!"

Those of you who know me can see the humor in all of this, as I have never yelled at a single soul.  But that day, I found my limit!  So here is my limit:  120 degree heat, husband gone, a preschooler, a toddler, a nursing baby, no ceiling fan, and news that my warranty is void.  That's my limit y'all, now you know.

As bad as I felt about the yelling episode, it did get the results I wanted.  The man paused for a second and then replied in Arabic, "We will come right over."

They honored the warranty and fixed the generator.  We got some air circulating in the house.  I did not hurt anyone, we all survived!  I felt a mixture of accomplishment that I'd figured out a way to fix the problem and guilt that I'd resorted to yelling at someone to do so.

So what do we learn from that?  I guess I learned my limit. That generator man learned not to mess with foreign ladies who are suffering from the heat!  And maybe we can all just learn to laugh at ourselves a little more.  I started, now it's your turn!  Laugh at the crazy things you've done when you reached YOUR limit!