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