New Year's and Junk

We're celebrating New Year's Eve with friends and black-eyed peas, rice, cornbread, and collard greens. Now anybody who's lived here for any amount of time knows that you have to soak your vegetables in potassium permanganate before eating them so that you don't accidentally eat dangerous bacteria.

Today, my friend Cortney mentioned that we wouldn't have to soak the collard greens because we're going to pressure cook them, which will "really get all the junk out." It made me think that maybe India is our pressure cooker. My prayer is that God will use our being here to help get a lot of junk out of us too.

Whew!

Quick update: our tummies are getting better. Thank you for your prayers.

Derelict Blogger

I've been a bit of a bad blogger of late. First of all, we've had company and our house helper decided to leave suddenly to visit friends--without giving us any advanced warning. I was...er...not pleased, you might say. And, of course, there was/is the whole holiday season in a new country. Then, to top it all off, our entire household has or is coming down with a strange and rather long-lasting stomach virus. As I type this, I'm psyching myself out of barfing by thinking of cool waterfalls...

Anyway, our Christmas was a blessed one, bittersweet and pregnant with meaning. I laughed and cried, opened presents, and missed home. I was aware the whole time that this Christmas was better than I could have expected, and yet...And yet...

Anyway, currently I'm both thankful and sick to my stomach. 'Tis the way of things here. Would you ask that we'd all heal quickly? After the New Year, we have more company coming--this time, it's our Hindi teachers and they'll be teaching an intensive for us. It'll be beneficial and fun to see them again. But we need to be well by then.

Thanks for your prayers, and I hope each of you had a blessed Christmas.

This is How We Roll

Q: What do you do when your new couches won't fit up the stairs? A: You hoist them up the wall with flimsy ropes.

Merry Christmas from India.

Mystery Solved

Ok, we think it's a rat in our kitchen. J opened up the kitchen door the other night, and heard a rustling and the scurrying of little clawed feet. Ugh. There's a hole under our sink where a civilized drain should be, and it's just dark and gross enough for a rat to want to live and commute to work every night. We have to stop up that hole somehow and we don't have a brick at the moment, so D stuffed a raw potato in there. The way we figure, the rat can eat some of the potato, but he won't be able to actually eat his way out of Alcatraz, unless he's Templeton. Here's hoping, anyway...

Why I Love Christmas.

I am tangled up in contradiction. I am strangled by my own two hands. I am hunted by the hounds of addiction. Hosanna! I have lied to everyone who trusts me. I have tried to fall when I could stand. I have only loved the ones who love me. Hosanna! O Hosanna! See the long awaited king come to set his people free. We cry, hosanna! Come and tear the temple down. Raise it up on holy ground. Hosanna!

I have struggled to remove this raiment, tried to hide every shimmering strand. I contend with these ghosts and these hosts of bright angels. Hosanna! I have cursed the man that you have made me, as I have nursed the beast that bays for my blood. Oh, I have run from the one who would save me. Save me, Hosanna! O Hosanna! See the long awaited king, come to set his people free. We cry O Hosanna! Come and tear the temple down. Raise it up on holy ground. Hosanna!

You have crushed beneath your heel the vile serpent. You have carried to the grave the black stain. You have torn apart the temple's holy curtain. You have beaten Death at Death's own game. Hosanna! O Hosanna! Hail the long awaited king, come to set his people free. We cry O Hosanna! Won't you tear this temple down, raise it up on holy ground. O Hosanna! I will lift my voice and sing: you have come and washed me clean. Hosanna.

Andrew Peterson, Hosanna

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Leapin' lizards, there's something in our kitchen! It all started with a mysterious bite from an apple, and today it got even weirder. A couple of weeks ago we saw a lone apple sitting on our counter one early morning. It had only one bite taken out of it, and when we asked our oldest son (who loves apples) about it, he said, "Well, I guess I could have sleep-walked and eaten a bite and then forgotten about it..." We decided to remedy the situation by locking the kitchen door at night, and thought nothing more of it.

For a while, all was well. D, who sleeps near the kitchen, felt better about things, and so did I. But then today, she brought us a raw potato with several bites taken out of it. The potato had been removed from the high-up vegetable bin and placed on the counter. The bites from it looked too big to be rat bites, and anyway, our kitchen door had been locked.

If it was our oldest son, looking for an apple in the night--and accidentally getting a potato instead--he would have had to open up the kitchen door in his sleep. But if it wasn't he who ate it, then who or what did? We have considered that it could have been a monkey. But the question remains: how did a monkey get into a locked kitchen??

On the other hand, if it's a rat and it has teeth big enough to make those bite marks, and it's living somewhere in our kitchen, so help me...

What. Could. It. Be?? Somebody give me some helpful hints...

D in Love

(D on the right)

D was gone for around eight days. She's home with us now, and I couldn't be happier. We're having fried chicken and dahl and rice for dinner. We had french toast for breakfast, and subzi and chapatis for lunch. She's spoiling us rotten because we've spent so many meals without her in the last several days.

But you know what? D's in love. And has been for a long time. And I could be wrong, but I think that she'll be engaged before too long. I'm guessing we might be without her by summer, though I can't be sure. I can't blame her, and I want her to be happy above other considerations...

But I'm totally sad. I know you'll think it's because of the food thing, and that's definitely part of it, of course. The girl can cook like nothing else, and I can't/don't. But it's really more about D's presence in our family life. We love her so much. The kids love her. J and I love to watch Hindi films with her just so we can hear her laugh raucously at the not very funny parts.

I love D's sleepy look in the morning. She gets to work right away, but sometimes her eyes aren't really open. She's like a little kid. And that girl is so beautiful. I love watching her put up her curly hair. She lets G brush it sometimes and doesn't say a word. That's something, too, 'cause I know how bad it hurts when G brushes anyone's hair.

As I said, our kids are crazy about her. They love her mildly disapproving looks when they mess around at the table or waste food. They love it when she tries to trick them about what we're having for dinner. They love that she plays with them. I know it hasn't happened yet, but I'm already grieving her empty seat at our dinner table.

We love you, D. Not just because you will have made our first year here possible, but because you're you.

Poetry in...Unlikely Places

I have an awesome little poem to share with you. It's on the container that holds our dried beans, or razma. I'm sharing it because, just as Indian washing machines play music when the wash is done, cars play rowdy music when backing up, and water purifiers have 'music while you fill your bottles' options, so can one find poetry on ordinary objects.

It says something about India, and the hardness of life here, I think. People look for opportunities to make their existence a little more colorful, a little more...poetic. Now please don't misunderstand me: it's atrocious poetry, just as the mechanical music is atrocious. But it's poetry nonetheless. You know, so you have a little something to read while you're cooking...

Seest thou yon smiling Orange?
Upon the tree still hangs it,
Already March bath vanish'd
And new-born flowers are shooting.

And because I know you were wondering...yeah, the container has oranges all over it. So there you go.

Important

We need to have a very important conversation with our landlords and their families--in Hindi. Maybe you can guess what it's about. Anyway, would you lift us up? We need it, they need it, all God's children need it! :)

Have a great Sunday.

Crazy

Oh my goodness. Nothing has ever made me feel as crazy as learning Hindi. It's not that it's such a hard language, 'cause it isn't. And it's not because I don't like it, 'cause I do. I suppose it's because this whole process is two steps forward and one step back. Some days, I'm flying high because I feel like I'm just getting it. But other days, I wonder what I've been doing with my time up 'til now.

It's really a metaphor for life, for parenting, for living in love with a spouse. Sometimes we feel like all is right with the world, and other times...well, let's just not go there, k? But the days that make you lose a couple of brain cells a minute are the ones where you feel good-bad-good-bad-good in a 24-hour period.

That was today.

The Answers!

Thanks for participating, everyone. You are a sharp group. I could have used you all many a time when I was trying to figure out what to order for lunch. The answers are as follows:

1. Chicken Stroganoff
2. Chicken Breasts
3. Minestrone Soup
4. Banana Crepes
5. Chocolate Fudge Brownie

At least I think that last one was supposed to be a brownie. You see, we ordered three of them for our kids and when they came, they were a longish banana each with non-descript, tan pudding, chopped apples, chopped red and green gummy candies, nuts, and chocolate sauce on top. Now our kids are real troopers, and they picked around at them, but they did look exactly like barf. When they couldn't eat any more, G said cheerfully, "Well, I mean, maybe browines are just like that." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry from her sweetness. I opted for laughter...

Pop Quiz

Despite the stressful circumstances attached to our trip, we found that we enjoyed what we experienced of Nepal. The people are gentle and polite and their homes, though extremely poor, are tidy and colorful.

We found it necessary to eat at the hotel where we stayed for the night, and as usual, we greatly enjoyed reading the menu. See, newspapers here don't have funnies. It is our contention that reading South Asian restaurant menus is every bit as entertaining as 'Family Circus,' if not more so.

I thought I'd try a little something out on you, My Faithful Readers. I'm going to give you a quiz. The first person to answer every question correctly will receive...the satisfaction of getting an A, and nothing more.

These items appeared on the hotel menu from which we made meal selections. See if you can guess what each item is. I record them exactly as they appeared:

1. Chicken Stunger-Off
2. Chicken Bro-Chests
3. Ministoning Soup
4. Banana Craps
5. Chocolate Foodge Browine

Any ideas?

*I'll give the answers tomorrow.*

We're Baaaaack.

We are back from Nepal and we greatly appreciate all of your prayers. All went well and we experienced a sense of peace--even in the most stressful of moments. We have temporarily resolved our visa issues and we look forward to more time in our beloved India.

Two of our kids are sick at the moment. If you get a chance, would you pray that they'd recover quickly? Part of their problem is that they're exhausted from our whirlwind trip. Still, we'd love it if they could stay well for the holiday season.

Love to you all.

Odds and Ends

We had a lovely weekend celebrating C's birthday and hosting some friends in our home. They have three little girls who are as sweet as honey (the baby isn't pictured here). We had a fun time with six children in 1100 square feet for three days!

On another important note, we are taking a trip tomorrow for reasons I can't go in to here. We need for this trip to accomplish what is necessary for us to stay in our new city. We are asking that as we leave the country all would go as planned and the Lord would be glorified. We are asking for traveling mercies and special favor in the eyes of those who might influence our time here. Thank you for lifting us up.

My Baby Isn't a Baby

C, today you are seven. I remember hearing your scream as I lay on the hospital bed all those years ago, and I knew you were different. Your brother entered the world in serenity but you busted on the scene with a vengeance. You were bald--but then, no. Not really bald. When I examined you, I noticed you had a head of the finest white-blond fuzz (where did that come from?) long limbs, and a wizened old man face.

Fast forward to toddlerhood. You baby-cussed, had strong opinions about food, hated surprises, and potty-trained in a minute-and-a-half. You learned to read a year after potty-training, and now I have to say things like, "No, you can't read Jack London right now. It's too dark for a six-year-old."

You've asked me hard questions, made me cry, caused me to fall on my knees before the Lord and ask, 'What should I do now?' and 'How can I protect this one? I don't want anyone to destroy him--least of all me.' I've found myself having adult conversations with you one minute and consoling you over a scraped knee the next.

I love all of my children with blinding singularity. Each one of you is a piece of me. But I understand you the easiest. Maybe because you're really the most like me. Maybe that's also why you make me so mad I have to leave your presence sometimes.

God knew what he was doing when he gave me you, C. He knew, and I'm so grateful, baby. Happy Birthday.

Love,

Momma

Another View of "Our" Mountain

Light and Darkness

I love Christmas trees. I've always loved to sit and stare at them until the lights blur in my eyes, and all I see is a wash of glowing color. I think long-tucked-away thoughts at this time of year. Like ornaments in my mind, I bring them out, dust them off, and am pleased to find that they are still delightful--even after a year in the attic.

But nothing is as sweet as seeing a Christmas tree through the eyes of a person who's never seen one. We've had neighbors and their kids ring our doorbell just so they can get a glimpse of "the tree." They don't try to hide their wonderment. Adults stand with their mouths open and don't say a word. Then they inch closer and lovingly touch every ornament. They finally say things like, "It's magnificent. So beautiful. How did you do this?"

Please pray that we'll use every opportunity we are given to tell about the reason for Christmas. That the lights on the tree that beat back the darkness of an evening are nothing. Nothing compared to the Light who came so long ago to beat back the darkness of our wretched hearts. Pray that we'll be kind when a neighborhood kid tries to fill her pockets with G's Polly Pockets. Pray that the joy we have at being rescued bubbles over and proves irresistible to our friends and neighbors.

Happy Holidays!

Christmas

Ah. 'Tis the season. The tree is up, the air is chilly, the monkeys are lively. And you know, I'm thinking that while it is the time for holly berries, hot chocolate, and Advent calendars, for me it's also the season for:

• Avoiding monkey poop
• Avoiding making up my mind about people
• Letting grown-ups take pictures of their kids--in front of our tree
• Hearing Burl Ives mingle with the loudspeaker call to prayer
• Wrapping flat-rate boxes from the U.S.P.S. and imagining my mom and mother-in-law wrapping them instead.
• Admitting that I generally assume the worst in life and am usually wrong.
• Feeling grateful in a way that makes me feel very small
• Loving my husband and kids more than I ever have before

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Another Day in Paradise

A Good Reminder

In warm, holiday moments or in cold, desperate ones it is good for me to remember...

Whom have I in Heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
Psalm 73:25-26

A View from the Top

Only in India

And we thought we wouldn't find a tree here!

Arabica? No. Arabicaah.

I Love Technology!

Thanksgiving Day. There I am (H) Skyping my family back home.

For Mimi and Papa (Happy Thanksgiving)

Princess Grace of India

Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. We love you all and are thankful for you.

Hurry

J is gone for a couple of days. We are going about our daily routines, but when he's gone we think about him. Hurry home, Daddy. We aren't the same without you.

Request

We have friends here who are struggling with some unexplained illnesses in their kids. Nothing hits closer to home than when our children are sick, right? And especially if we can't quite figure out what to do about it. That's the situation in which they find themselves. Please lift them up today. Ask that their kids would get well, and that they'd experience the 'peace that passes understanding.' Thanks so much!

Charlie Brown

I'm listening to Christmas music on iTunes right now. It's a beautiful thing, people. J is out ordering furniture, the kids have finished school for the day, and I'm nursing a cold to the wobbly voice of Rosemary Clooney. G sits beside me now, pretending to paint her nails herself, and layering hair binders on her wrists.

She just said, "Mommy, do you hear your voice? You sound like Charlie Brown right now. No, actually, like the one who sucks his thumb."

Sniff.

Weather on the Mountain

Trip to the Zoo

I Heart the Internet

Some of J's Latest Images

Our Landlady

J took this picture of her and her grandnephew. Isn't she beautiful? I just love her.

Nightly Routine

Don't you love the red and green walls? Too bad you can't see the pink one by G's bed.

7/11

Last night our family enjoyed a fun meal and conversation with our landlords and their families. The kids played, the grown-ups talked, the food was wonderful...

At one point, the eldest landlord began waxing eloquent on politics, history, religion, and the state of the universe--in limited English. He announced that Americans are afraid of Middle Easterners because of what happened years ago.

"You know, Americans have fears. They have problems with trust now. It's all because of what happened on 7/11."

I had to concentrate very hard on his beard and not look in his eyes, or he would see. Oh the irony! The irony of an Indian messing up the date that changed our country--and coming up with 7/11. The name of the one gas station chain they seem to love in the States...

For Better and For Worse

G seems to be getting better, PTL. D, on the other hand, is listless and miserable. It's kind-of strange being 31 and taking care of a 19-year-old as if she's my daughter. It's giving me a little training for the future, I guess. D is normally very competent and collected. She has more homemaking skill in her little brown finger than I have ever had in my entire being. But when she's sick, she's a little girl again. She lets me give her medicine that she hates, and take her temperature every six hours. She trusts me if I say, "D swallow this. You have the flu and this will make it better." I feel responsible since she doesn't have parents to care for her here. Please pray for her quick recovery and that the rest of us would not get whatever it is that she has. Thanks!

Not again.

I hate to be the bearer of bad blog posts, but now D is very sick. We need your prayers. She seems like she has the flu, and well, you know if she has it...

The other weird thing is that G is getting over her little cold virus/conjunctivitis thing-y, but now she's breaking out in hives periodically. Not at ALL sure why. We've given her a couple of doses of Benadryl for kids and it seems to help. Until the next time.

Again, if anyone has had any experience with kids getting hives after a virus, please let me know...

Arrgh.

Day One

Today marked the first day of Hindi with my landlady. I wanted to have regular conversation time with her, and it turned out that she wants to 'teach' me grammar. She used to be a teacher (and really, it seems like everyone is a teacher in India--or they say they are). Anyway, before I could say, "No really. I just spent five months learning grammar. I really need conversation time," it was settled.

So, notebook in hand, I went downstairs this afternoon for my first 'lesson.' Mrs. Dolly spoke Hindi to me as if I were a very slow, very large kindergartner. Which is fine, because I kind-of am just that. We started back with the, gulp, alphabet. But you know, I think all the review is going to be helpful in the long run. And she doesn't speak good English, so in the end I'm still having conversation in Hindi. Like so many other things I've experienced here, I just pictured it differently...

Nope.

Thanks to everyone for your help about the Pink Eye. I'm sure G's got the viral kind and we know how we're going to treat it. You all are the best.

On another note, there's a huge music festival going on here. Bands and singers from all over India have been featured, and we've gotten a 'front row seat' whether we've wanted to or not since our apartment is in the middle of town. Most of the music has been popular Indian love songs in Hindi. I feel like I could sing some of them in my sleep.

But last night, as I was trying to trick myself into thinking the drumbeats from outside were just the beating of my own heart, I heard a familiar tune. It was Bon Jovi--well, no it wasn't--but it was his song. The singer must have thought that the key to performing western music is to get really, really angry before a show, dig deep, and then grunt out the lyrics. 'Cause...that's what he was doing.

"It's my liiiiiife. It's now or never (grunt). I don't want to WAIT forever (yelling the word wait). I just wanna LIVE while I'm ALIVE (more yell-emphasis)."

It was totally weird.

I didn't know if J was awake or asleep, so I just quietly whispered this little word of censure: nope. Just--nope.

Pink Eye

I have a conundrum. About a week ago, middle son had what appeared to be a nasty cold. Lots of drainage, but no fever. Nothing unusual except that he had what looked like the beginnings of Pink Eye in one eye and then later in the other. I waited a couple of days and just watched it. It never seemed like a really bad case, and then one day it just cleared up on its own. So did his drainage for the most part.

Then, last night (several days later), G started developing what also seems to be a bad cold. The kicker is, one of her eyes is red and looks like it's got conjunctivitis, too. It looks a bit worse than C's did. I had her wash her hands, and I washed her eyes. I'm going to watch her, but I have a question: is it Pink Eye if it heals up on it's own without medicine? Is it safe to not treat eyes that look yucky or is that a dangerous thing? Has anyone ever had a kid who only had goopy eyes when they also had a cold or some other virus?

Eventually, I'm going to have to go the doctor if we don't get better around here. I was just hoping to get some mom-opinions, and advice before we did.

Thanks!

Me, after being sick for three days...

Blech.

Well, I followed J down the path of sick-as-a-dog. Last night, I spend some real quality time with the toilet. I'll kindly spare you the unattractive details. I'll just say that I didn't realize the human body was capable of losing so much fluid so consistently. I ought to be a prune. Instead, I look mostly normal; that is to say, I look tired. Sigh. At least I'm a little better now...

A Win

Today was the first day of homeschooling since we've relocated. It went astonishingly well despite the fact that we were awakened in the night by dreadfully loud drumbeats, and someone shouting over the entire city, Desting. One, doo, thee. Over and over, I might add. It's possible that just the tiniest little inappropriate word escaped my husbands lips. It's possible that I hated the police--who did nothing.

However, no matter. School was fantastic and I got an opportunity to speak Hindi with my landlady. Just enough Hindi, in fact, to realize how much I miss my class time and how my speaking is slipping down the tubes without regular conversation time. I laid the hints on thick with Mrs. Dolly, the landlady, that my speaking sorely needed her. She agreed to help me.

So today feels like a win.

Making Do

We don't have all the furniture we will have yet. Since we are quite literally living in a hotel, we are using some of the furniture already in our apartment. Of course, I want comfy couches and a dining room table on which to have school. But the thing for which I'm most excited is bookshelves. What homeschooling mom doesn't love shelves to put everything 'school' on? Above is our temporary solution, namely, the floor.

Yuck.

We are all sick around here. I mean all of us. Well ok, not D, who seems to have the constitution of a Clydesdale. As for the rest of us we have (as a collective body): perpetual coughs, colds, and Pink Eye. And guess what happened to Daddy? Daddy woke up at 4:00 a.m. writhing in pain. Before the sleep had fled my brain, I heard someone vomiting forcefully in my bathroom.

At first I was sure it was Abraham Lincoln and I wondered why he didn't use his own bathroom (my dreams have been a little weird of late). Then I realized it was J. Poor him. He's been dragging today. But C's Pink Eye is looking better so that's good.

And what does the homeschool mom do when her kids are sick? Read stories, pop popcorn and snuggle? Um, well, she kinda lets them play video games while her hubby sleeps. Meanwhile she turns on the hot water heater and dreams of a shower that stays warm until all the conditioner is out of her hair.

The Mean Reds

On days like today I just want to go home. Not India home--U.S. home. It's strange, really, because nothing big ever precipitates these moods. It's not as if life suddenly changes and gets harder. I'll just wake up one day, and feel that deep-blue yearning to be among friends again.

I mean, we have friends here. We don't live on an island. But it's just, you know, different. And I know I can't go home, so maybe that frees me up a little, to yearn without implications. Holly Golightly addresses this very state in Breakfast at Tiffany's. She calls it "the mean reds."

Mean reds, indeed.

Um...fresh chicken (click on the bottom photo for an upclose of the boys' reaction).

Everyday Scenes

These guys were beating the cotton from a mattress in order to make a new, fresh one. This was right underneath our second-story porch. We see things like this all the time.

Snapping Beans in Our New (Old) Kitchen

Bad Blog

I've discovered a little something. I think I knew it all along. What makes for good living makes for bad blogging.

We've been bored around here. Deliciously bored. The kind of bored that eases the stress of constant transition off of me like Botox for wrinkles. The good part is, my resting heart rate is in the healthy range. The bad news is, I have nothing to say. Nothing to blog. Nuh-nuh-nuthin.' I feel like the kid who has to mess with the margins on Microsoft Word to get her term paper the right number of pages.

Sigh. Sorry, I'll stop now, 'cause there's nothing to...Oh wait. I said that already. Um, we don't have water in our apartment and haven't for 24 hours. But, no, forget it. That's normal.

Here's hoping I have nothing to write about for a while longer.

Home

We are finally back in our city after a whirlwind trip to our former one. We had the opportunity to visit old friends--and really, that part nearly made me cry--and we got to meet new friends. They are fun, interesting, sincere, and love the Lord. What more could we ask for? Oh yeah! They have little kids, so they're in the parents' club.

We look forward to seeing them much more often in the near future.

Beyond that, I have nothing remotely interesting to write--except maybe that I saw several people carrying a dead body today. It was wrapped in white cloth, tied with twine around the ankles, and lying on a plank. Orange flowers garlanded it and I couldn't quite get over the fact that I could make out the shape of the corpse underneath the sheet, and that it was about to be burned.

Just another day in India.

Home, Sweet Home

We took a little road trip back to our original city to pick up a package and meet some new friends (and visit some old ones). On the way down I was in a particularly thoughtful mood, and it seemed like I was seeing India for the first time somehow. I decided to catalog the things that caught my eye today.

• A road sign that said, "We are like your driving, but not your speed."
• Another that said, "Are you married? To divorce it, speed."
• A man riding an elephant on the side of the road, it's head completely covered in painted-on designs.
• A donkey asleep in the middle of a busy road.
• A mother monkey throwing a protective arm around her baby who was trying to stray into the road.
• And finally, twin toddler albinos--humans, that is.

Ah, India. What would I do without your weirdness?

We Love Our Care Packages!

Beef. Need I say more?

Every Little Bit Helps...

We've been watching a lot of TV lately. I console myself that it's not ruining my kids because it's in Hindi. Actually, it has helped me a lot with vocab. For instance, because of all the Cartoon Network I know how to say the following in Hindi:

• Save me!
• Catch him!
• I eats me spinach.
• You shut up!
• We'll be right back after these messages.

Good stuff, huh? Helpful for when I'm in the market. I'll let you know how things turn out.

Sunday Boat Ride (with J and Oldest peddling for us)