This Week in Pictures

Saturday, David and Carter took a hike in the jungle.  Carter found a cool lizard and David got some lovely photos.

Monday through Friday, Carter's sophomore class led Spiritual Emphasis Week for the elementary classes.

On Tuesday the airport was hosting a blood drive in honor of Hari Perhubungan (Department of Communications Day).  It's such a different experience than giving blood in the U.S.  The only screening was a blood-pressure check.  And they don't take as much blood as in the states.  Aaaannnd, the snack choices for post-donation recovery are definitely different - boiled eggs, boxed milk, red bean pudding, and spring rolls.  

On Wednesday we had to go to the big city of Jayapura for fingerprinting for our visa.  The bonus was we got to stop by the mall there.  Zoe and Luke rode bumper cars for the first time, and we enjoyed treats at JCo Donuts (the closest we get to Krispy Kreme).  This is my favorite drink - avacado and coffee.  I know what you're thinking, but avacadoes are not just for guacamole, my friend.  

Blah Bread and Pet Rocks

Lately it seems that my approval rating as a mom is highly dependent on the quality of food coming out of my kitchen.  Maybe it has something to do with having two ravenous teenagers in the house.  Poll my kids and you’ll find that homemade pickles, after-school cookies, and weekend hamburgers send my numbers through the roof.  So when I made bread last week and forgot to put in the salt and my kids were still forced to eat it, the numbers took a nose dive.

Have you ever had bread without salt?  You might as well just open a bag of flour and eat it straight than mess with eating the blah-ness that is salt-free bread.  No amount of butter and jam could cover up the fact that it was a big fat food fail for Mama.  And I was too cheap to chuck it and start over.

But I think I redeemed myself, at least with the younger kids, when I green-lighted a project the next day.  I made the supreme mother sacrifice: I let the kids paint.

What is it with painting that makes it so hard to say “yes”?  I’ll tell you – it’s the newspapers, brushes, paints, mugs of water, smocks (which I just discovered that Ibu L – God love her – had cut up to make rags). All that prevention and I still end up with paint in my hair.

I feel like I’ve spent a good many of my parenting years either cleaning up messes (exploding diapers, toddler food fights, midnight pukes, playdate pandemonium) or trying to prevent them (“stay outside till it’s your turn to shower,” “eat that outside,” “I’ll pay you a dollar if you puke in the toilet” – thanks Jon and Ceri for that tip).  Kids are messy, and most of it is inevitable.  And when the outside world is so darn messy (you should have seen the puddle of sludge I put my foot into at the pasar this week), I need my home to have some semblance of order and cleanliness to stay sane.

So to invite the mess and chaos – to allow them to paint, or help you cook, or do experiments – well, that just kicks you up into the Supermom category and redeems any salt-free bread mishaps.

And you might just get a cute pet rock out of it.

Earthquakes Can Lead to Family Warmth

Sometimes, I try to force feel-good family moments upon my kids.  I want us to have discussions that are uplifting, encouraging, and sweet, and not wind up with insults, tears, and someone being sent to their room for sassing off.  But somehow, despite my best efforts, I just can’t seem to pull it off. 

Last Sunday was one such instance.  David and I wanted to talk about a few things with our kids, one of which was our re-instituting an allowance for them (hello? Who wouldn’t want to sit still, be sweet, and listen to that?).  There was bickering, negativity, and the obligatory four-seems-to-be-too-many-kids-for-peaceful-discussion-so-one-gets-sent-to-their-room.  Argh. 

But then a strange thing happened.  About an hour later, we had gone our separate ways in the house – some were resting, some were reading, some were doing Lego, some were rearranging a snake cage (you can figure out who did what). And then the earth moved.  Literally.

I was on the couch trying to nap when I was shaken awake by the shimmy of the earth.  I looked at Luke – who was laying on the floor reading – his eyes wide.  David called out from the bedroom – “Earthquake!” 

It was over in a few seconds, and wasn’t a big one (it was 27 kilometers deep and about 25 kilometers away) but it was enough to shake us out of what we were doing.  Everyone gathered in the living room, and this same family who struggled to speak civilly to one another a mere hour ago was all warmth and concern and chatter as we piled on the couch and talked about how the earthquake felt to us. 

Nothing like an earthquake to stir up some spontaneous feel-good family moments.

It was a good reminder for me: our kids do love each other – and if it takes a little shake of the earth to make them show it, so be it.

And for the record, I don’t like earthquakes.  My default reaction is to stand up and “surf” the tremor while praying for it to stop. My friend told me she likes to lie on the floor to “get the full effect.”   I’m definitely not there yet.

Here are a few pictures from a recent flight David did.

These guys seem cracked up by the load they're carrying from the plane

No trouble picking my husband out of a crowd

We're baaaaack!

We're back!  Yep, Borneomama is back in Papua after a lovely, almost perfect short furlough in the U.S.  I must admit, the transition back to life over here has been a bit difficult.  Maybe because the aforementioned furlough was just wonderful.  This week I went to the pasar (open-air market) and meandered for a while, trying to focus on my search for onions and cauliflower, ignore the flies and stench, and mentally block the images of the gleaming new Whole Foods store in Savannah I visited less than two weeks ago.

Really, just two weeks?  It doesn't seem possible.  There's some kind of funky time-warp thing that happens on the interminable flight across the Pacific that turns days and weeks into lightyears and my beautiful memories of the summer are getting fuzzy around the edges.  So before I do some serious forgetting, here are some highlights:  
Lazy afternoons on Grandpa's farm

We feasted on fresh blueberries from Mom's bushes. 

The kids were highly entertained by Grandpa's automatic chair.

Grace, appropriately attired for our Mississippi visit, stands watch over a box of Georgia peaches.

Hot dogs on the Fourth of July

Family reunions

Papaw with all his great-grandkids

One last trip to one of my favorite spots, The Tea Room (it's now closed) - photo by Zoe

Our 20-year high school reunion weekend

All the grandkids, but one, with Grandma and Grandpa

Golf cart rides

Our kids' first backpacking trip.  My dad, who has now section-hiked over half of the Appalachian Trail (so proud of you, Dad!) led the way.

Disney - oh how we love our trips to Disney World!

This moment literally made me weep - Zoe was chosen to play the part of Beast and she got to dance with Belle.  It's cliche to say it, and I sound like a Disney brochure, but it was truly magical.

We loved getting to know this little sweetheart, our newest niece, Emi Faye.

We gained the obligatory Furlough Five by feasting on the likes of this...

...and this...

All of D's siblings gathered (first time in 13 years) for their parents' 50th wedding anniversary celebration.

Our panda-obsessed daughter got to see her favorite creature in person, at ZooAtlanta.

There were so many good times with our family and friends (and that other "F" - food) and saying goodbye is the PITS!

We had a very smooth trip back to Papua, the only snag being the cans of beenie-weenie my dad put in Carter's and Grace's bags.  It was a little joke from our backpacking trip, and I guess Dad thought they might want a little snack along the way.  In Savannah, and later in Tokyo, the security scanners pulled the cans out, carefully inspected them, shook them, put them through the x-ray machine again, and finally approved them for travel.  Phew.  

There were no other problems except my, um, meltdown at Singapore security.  We spent a lovely 12 hours in our favorite airport, enjoying the new butterfly garden and coffee drinks and foot massages.  

Then as we were going through Singapore security to get on our flight to Indonesia, my little "I heart Singapore Airport" bubble burst when they confiscated my favorite little fingernail scissors.  I mean, these are the teeniest tiniest most miniscule scissors ever, and had breezed through all other security checks in my bag (perhaps because TSA was distracted by the beenie weenie?).

The blades on these little scissors were hardly an inch long, if that.  Trying to imagine me taking down a jet with my little scissors was just ludicrous and I raised my voice a little.

"But they made it through security checks in the U.S. and Tokyo."

Stern Security Lady shook her head no.

Kind Helpful Security Man stepped in to help.  "You can buy some more in Indonesia."

Unkind Jetlagged Natalie snapped, in Indonesian, "No, you can't!  I've lived there 12 years and never found any like this!"

Kind Helpful Security Man backed off.

I thought of whipping out my 10-inch knitting needles, which could possibly take down a jet but have cleared security, but David wisely urged me to step away before I set off an international incident, and I did.  In tears.  My kids rolled their eyes and pretended not to know me.  I, a bit ashamed, sat by myself and pretended not to know me.

But now we're back, recovered from jet lag and easing back into the swing of things.  David is off and flying, the kids are settled into their routine at school, and I am teaching one of the high school English classes at their school.  

Thank you to all our family, friends, and supporters who hung out with us, hosted us, fed us, and loved on us this summer.  We miss you!

Farewell, Homeschooling

It was with mixed emotions last week that I made my last homeschooling lesson plans for Zoe for this school year.  This fall she’ll be attending the local international school the older three attend, and my stint as a homeschooling mom will be – at least for the foreseeable future – over.  I’m a bit sad not to be picking out curriculum and making plans for the next school year, but a bit excited, too, for the opportunities she’ll have at the school, and the extra time I’ll have.

I was a relunctant homeschooler back in 2002 and over the years had a love-hate relationship with it.  There have been things I really, really love about homeschooling.  There have been less-than-stellar moments, like when I thought we should sing every morning to start our school day (who was I kidding? That was only fun for me).  I loved the laid-back mornings; hated how hard it could be to get going when so many other things (laundry, meals, crying babies) vied for my time.  I loved reading together, but struggled to explain math in some other way than “I don’t know why, it’s just the way it is.”  I enjoyed having lots of time with my kids, and getting to know their learning styles.

A Roman feast, 2010

I loved doing projects (Panning for gold! Growing beans!) and crafts (very, very simple crafts), but never seemed to have as much time for them as I would have liked.  By far the most satisfying thing I accomplished during my stint as a homeschooler was teaching each of my kids to read.  If for nothing else, I am glad I homeschooled for that reason.  

I was forced to move out of the “I would never homeschool” camp – and survived.   I have experienced guilt because I do homeschool (“Are they missing out? Are they well-adjusted?”), and guilt because I don’t (“Is my influence in their life as significant as it was? Are they negatively influenced by peers?”).  I have come to realize that even if I’m not their primary teacher of the core subjects any more, there is still plenty opportunity to teach them through reading aloud together, playing outside, learning new games, cooking, etc.  The key is intentionality – purposefully setting out to spend time with each kid.

And so I step away from homeschooling for now and into a new season for our family. 

Letter to My Future Self

Preparing for the first goodbye, 2001

I read a blog post recently in which a woman wrote to her 15-year-old self.  She reassured her past self that the awkwardness of teendom would give way to a more relaxed adulthood.  It’s an interesting concept, writing to your past person, but I don’t find myself reflecting so much on the past as I do pondering the future, and I often find myself making mental notes to the future Natalie.

It’s been on my mind lately because we are going back to the U.S. this summer for a short furlough.  Making the transition from one country to another can be a tricky time for me, and it’s usually the trip coming back to Indonesia that gets me.  It can cause me anxiety, and to calm myself I sometimes mentally reassure my future self.  It goes something like this:

Dear Natalie of mid-August,

By now, Lord willing, you have enjoyed a few months of all the wondrous things that the Land of Plenty has to offer.  You have spent time with your beloved family, visited friends and supporters, attended your 20-year high school reunion, eaten way too much, bought clothes for the next few years, etc. etc.  And now, the dreaded moment has arrived.

It’s time to say goodbye, again.  It’s time to wrap your arms around your parents and in-laws, kiss them, thank them for the good times, and say the awful goodbye.  You will cry.  Blubber like a baby is probably a more accurate description.  You will think, ‘what the heck are we doing this for?’  You will have moments of questioning if you can really do this yet again and you will wonder why you choose to straddle two worlds.

Years ago, you’d watch older, veteran missionary ladies and think, “Look at them – they’re okay; obviously, it will get better, easier with time.”

But now you know that, at least for you, it doesn’t get even a smidge easier.  It’s just as heart-wrenching as it was 12 years ago, maybe even more so because now you know exactly how far away the airplanes will take you.  You couldn’t be any further away from home and still be on planet earth.  The moon seems closer, maybe because you can still see it in the sky, while Savannah, Georgia seems as far away as Pluto.

You will perhaps struggle to remember the good about where you live in Papua.  The stressors will loom large in your mind: malaria, inconvenience, distance from everywhere, lack of good medical care, the draining heat of the tropics, the drunks, just a general feeling of vulnerability.

And so I want to remind you, Future Self, of the good you have experienced in Papua: the friends you have, your home, a fulfilling ministry, the school your kids love, the beautiful places.  It’s hard to remember this when you’re sobbing your eyes out, climbing onto a plane that will take you 10,000 miles from your passport country.  

But you just have to remember the good; turn to the kids and David, and remember the good.  Speak to your Father, and thank Him for the good, and thank Him for giving you such family and friends that make it so hard to leave.

And then sit down, put on your seat belt, and go.

This week in pictures

Zoe celebrated with our Dutch neighbors the crowning of the new Dutch king.  The dress code was orange!

This lovely nanny goat was one of David's passengers this week, along with a family that serves in a remote interior village.

The Amphibious Caravan is a pretty cool plane all on its own, but strap a canoe onto one of the floats and the cool factor increases exponentially.  Tom, one of the pilots, was doing a test flight with the canoe before going out the next day to deliver it for a couple serving interior.

The kids had track and field day this week.  So proud of Luke with his "3st place" ribbon.

This weekend we hosted two girls from a local school called TITIP that gives high school graduates a year of discipleship and intensive English classes.  Our TITIP girls, Ivon and Elise, were a delight to have.

We took the girls to one of our favorite local hangouts, the "swim bak" at a military complex. It's a beautiful spot by a river, with rocks for the kids to jump off and scramble on, and there are always lots of colorful butterflies.

Carter has the gift of finding critters.  This is his latest acquistion, a viper boa.  When he came out of the jungle with it, he assured David it wasn't poisonous.  "How do you know?" David asked.  "Oh," Carter replied, "it would have bitten me by now."  Aha.  Yes, keep praying for us!