Thoughts on Having a Senior

I don’t even know if I have the emotional fortitude to write this, but here goes.

Our oldest son is a senior, and we are starting to have the first “lasts.” The last first day of school. Last Sadie Hawkins.  Last birthday at home. 18!

Eighteen years ago, our son – who weighed in at just under 10 pounds – was born and we felt totally clueless.  For the first three weeks of Carter’s life, it took David, Mom, and me  - all three of us - to change his diaper.  (I had read somewhere that cotton balls dipped in boiled water were better for your baby than wipes, so someone was on cotton ball duty.  I quickly learned to stop reading stuff.) With Carter we grew up. We learned to care for a child. We learned how to parent together. He was our first, so we tried everything out on him – poor kid.

"We don't know what we're doing, but we're smiling anyway."

You think it’s going to last forever.  It seemed like we'd always be in this stage of four kids at home, a crazy home life with music blaring and homework papers everywhere and never enough food for my ever-hungry kids.  But lately I have been faced with the reality that our family life as we know it is soon to change drastically, and I need to be okay with that.  After all, we raise our children to leave the nest eventually, to strike out on their own and make their mark on the world. 

It’s a terrifying prospect.

I did not think we’d be overseas still at this point.  When I would hear of people talking about their big kid issues – sending them off to college, worrying about them, etc. I would think, well, we’ll be long resettled in the U.S. by then.  I don’t have to worry about that.

But here we are, just as firmly planted as we ever were, with no plans to repatriate any time soon.  We are facing the reality that we will be on one side of the globe, and our son will be on the other, in what is, to him, a foreign country, the USA.

So forgive me if I freak out a little over the next few months.  You know how it is with parenting – you hear about different stages, and you either dismiss it because it seems so unfathomably distant in the future, or you disbelieve the hype until it happens to you. And then all of a sudden, it’s like no one has experienced it but you, and certainly not with the depth of feeling that you have right this moment.

I’m the mother of an adult.  I realized this when I was giving him a shoulder rub recently and my hands are practically over my head to reach him, and his shoulders were like, well, a man’s.

 

"See here, no faster than 30 km an hour, kiddo."

It’s hard not to take the little things he does – just silly little stupid average teenage kid things – and project it on to his future.  Like: He forgot to pay his library fine!!  What if he forgets to pay rent one day?  Will he be evicted? Will he be living under a bridge?

I’m sure there are so many things I’ve neglected to teach him.  My mind races, trying to conjure up all possible scenarios. 

Scammers.

Credit cards.

Car insurance.

I know we’ve missed some things, but I have to remind myself all that we have taught him. Cooking. Driving.  Yes, those are important.  But the bigger things?

Loving God and loving others.

Showing honor and respect to women.

Being compassionate.

Helping before you’re asked.

Being responsible for your messes, both figurative and literal.

Following through on commitments.

Being a friend.

Being a person of integrity.

Being true to himself, his passions, his gifts.

These are the things I most want him to know. To take with him.

And we are making the most of the moments we still have.  Hugging him close.  Fixing his favorite foods. Taking the time to talk, or not talk, just chill on the couch, watching tv.  Praying over him. Loving him to the best of our ability. Which will continue, no matter what side of the globe he's on.

Family Culture - or - I Think We Might Be Weird

We have a bonus child this semester.  Our niece Rachel is living with us, making us a family of seven.  

She is the daughter of David’s oldest brother Dan.  David and I are blessed with awesome siblings all around, and we’ve always enjoyed good times when we’re together with our extended family. 

 

Rachel is a delight to have.  It’s been so fun getting to know her.  However, having her here has made me realize something: our family is weird. Not Rachel, but us. 

Have you ever been clicking along, living your life, thinking you're perfectly normal, and then someone stays with you and you become keenly aware that maybe your little "habits" are actually "quirks"?

With Rachel here, I am seeing us through her eyes, and realizing we might be a tad weird. Take dinner time.  We use cloth napkins and everyone has their napkin ring and each ring has a dumb name – like “the one ring” and “turtle” and “genuine diamel.” And even with all those fun napkin rings, I'm still barking at people to put their napkins in their laps. Because it may be 95 degrees in the living room, but we're going to eat like civilized people. This is normal to us, but must seem bonkers to Rachel.

Basket of napkins

Then there’s the whole how do you pass food, get seconds, season your food, what do you drink, what do you talk about, what rules of good manners are steadfast, what devices are allowed (NONE), who cooks, and who does dishes.

How we divide jobs between David and myself. What our Sunday afternoons look like.  Having friends over for supper. How we interact with our pets.

David and Charley "playing." (No animals were injured during this photoshoot)

Our movie quotes. I’m sure she’s wondering why the phrases “and beneath the man you find his…nucleus” and “this chicken is special, Alice” seem so funny to us. But once she sees “Nacho Libre” and “Hockey Night” she’ll know.  Movie quotes become part of a family's  vernacular.

What I pack for lunches.  The music we listen to, or rather, the music that our deejay Carter has us listen to.  Shoes on or off in the house. Our bedtime rituals.

She has a front-row seat to our life, with all the junk included.  The sibling squabbles, the disagreements, the attitudes.  Zoe and her pig calls. The awkward dancing to Twenty-One Pilots. 

So in addition to learning about Indonesian and Papuan culture, Rachel is learning to adapt to our version of Holsten family culture.

What about you?  What family quirks do you have?
 

A few things I love about Indonesia

So we've been back in Papua for three weeks, and I know this to be true: if my relationship status with America is complicated, then my relationship with Indonesia, our adopted home, is equally so.

It's so easy when we're back in the U.S. for the stressors of overseas living to fade in to the background.  I watch our MAF video, all these awesome photos and video clips set to music  and I think of what a cool life we get to live, the exotic places we see, and the people we are with(what is it about videos set to music? I could be watching a video of someone cleaning a toilet, and you throw in a little Fernando Ortega and I'm weeping and ready to write someone a check). Then I get back to Papua and I'm all "What about the video? Where's the soundtrack? Why do I feel like I'm just living in the outtakes? Why does this not feel adventurous and exotic, but instead scary and stressful and frustrating?"

We arrived and jumped right back into life - school and crazy driving and visits to the immigration office and cooking.  Oh, the cooking.  Did I really cook this much before? Was the neighborhood really this noisy before? Our parents' homes, situated on woodsy acres, seem like veritable sound vacuums compared to the crazy cacophony that is life on Pos 7. 

And David had to turn around a week after we arrived and make the trek back to the U.S. for meetings.  So we're doing the separation thing again.

It's easy for me to spiral into negativity, shaking my fist at all the frustrations and yearning for the "easy" life I just left in America. But I know I need to hold on to the good.

To that end, the remainder of this post is dedicated to just a few of the many things I love about living in Indonesia.   

1. This octopus thingy we use to hang up laundry.  And hanging up laundry.  It's my favorite chore here. 

2. Better brooms and scoops.  Can you even buy a scoop like this in the U.S.?  It's the best.

3. Pineapples - they're in season now and we're averaging two pineapples a day from our plants out back.  Here's a recipe for a delicious smoothie we made the other day: 2 cups frozen pineapple, 2 cups frozen bananas, 1 small carton of santan (cream of coconut).  Blend it up.  It's about as good as a Dole whip from Disney (sigh - which we were eating about a month ago).

4. Bungkus.  Chicken, rice, and some veggies, wrapped up in in a paper bundle, for about $1.50.  We love it.

Photo credit: Grace H.

Photo credit: Grace H.

5. Rain.  It didn't rain nearly enough for me this summer in the U.S.  The day we arrived in Sentani it poured that night, a wonderful welcome back.

6. A more laid-back schedule.  I know this is possible in America, but someone tell me how???  It seems easier for us to do this in Indonesia.  

7. Flip flops year-round.

8. Beautiful places.  We went with some friends on a walk last weekend and had gorgeous views of the more uninhabited side of Lake Sentani. It looked like a tropical version of Middle Earth.

Photo credit: Grace H.

9. The pasar. In America, I could go in Walmart and, thanks to self checkout, not have to interact with a single soul.  I guess that's okay some of the time, but what I enjoy about the pasar is interacting with the local people. There's this one lady in particular who calls me "sayang" (honey) whenever she sees me, like I'm her long-lost younger sister.   Sure, it's more work going to the pasar than buying pre-washed salad and hermetically-sealed packs of chicken from Kroger, but there's a challenge to the pasar that I enjoy - navigating the stalls, never being quite sure about what I might find, and supporting the local sellers.

10.Beautiful people, like this young lady, Y, a girl from an interior village going to school here in Sentani.  She and another of her classmates spent Saturday with us, which included a trip to swim in the lake.

Those are just a few of many good things about living here.  What about you? What do you enjoy about where you live?

My Relationship Status with America: Complicated

Now that we’ve been reunited for a few months, America, it’s time to head back to Indonesia and there are some things I’d like to tell you.  I hope you don't take it personally that I'm away from you so much.  I do miss you when I'm gone, and can't wait to get back again. But when I am back, I feel, well, conflicted.  If “absence makes the heart grow fonder” it can also make the mind grow forgetful.  There are things about you I forget when I am overseas and when I’m back with you, I remember the not-so-good.  You also change, and I am always surprised by that.  I assume I’ll return and I’ll pick up right where we left off, but no, you’ve gone and changed on me.  And I know I’ve changed on you. 

I’ve made some observations about you this summer, which was spent in Washington, Idaho, Oregon, Colorado, Georgia, and Florida.  For one, you are beautiful – I never love you more than when I’m flying in on that initial landing and I first glimpse your shore.  This time it was San Francisco at sunrise, and low clouds were hovering over hills and the bay was illuminated.  Then the next flight took me by Mount Hood on a gorgeous clear blue sky day.  The next few weeks took me by your majestic Rocky Mountains, and golden wheat fields, and winding rivers, and oh, it makes me so proud to be one of your peeps.

Another thing I notice about you when I’m here is that you are convenient – so convenient that I sometimes forget how to do simple things, like pump gas or check of a store or wash my own vegetables.  In fact, you are so convenient that sometimes I suspect that you want me to be fat.  You seem happiest when I’m bellying up to a buffet, or supersizing my meal or stopping for buy-one-get-one-free Krispy Kremes.  How can I resist a grilled cheese doughnut, or Bunny Tracks ice cream, or a Greek burger at my favorite Savannah restaurant? You make it so easy to eat junky food that you must WANT me and all the rest of us to be fat and happy. 

Somebody stop me, it's a grilled cheese doughnut

And yet you also seem to want me to be fit and beautiful – at least that’s the message I’m getting from commercials (the ones that don’t want me to eat) and from a dermatologist who suggested some filler for my “smile” lines.

The American dilemma: Lose weight or eat cheeseburgers???

 

You feel safe.  Seatbelts, TSA, patrolling police officers – all give me a sense of safety, even if it’s just an illusion.  And sometimes it is an illusion because there are times that you feel scary. In the two months I’ve been back there have been numerous shootings and car accidents in our area.  I am more convinced than ever that there is no “safe” place in this world, even if I do sometimes feel safer with you.

You have issues. The Charleston shootings and subsequent fallout over the Confederate flag, the recent Supreme Court decisions, and the circus leading to the upcoming presidential election reflect a nation divided. The freedom to disagree without persecution is something to be celebrated, but when disagreements become hateful or violent, then America, it’s time to change.

My side of the family, loving our homeland

Having said all that, you are my homeland, and I love you.  I will continue to return to you. I will pray for you. I will watch with interest this next year as different presidential candidates duke it out over who will love you best and work hardest for you. You and I will both continue to change, and no doubt I will continue to grapple with my complicated feelings for you.  Having lived for almost 14 years in another country, I see you through different eyes, which is a gift I wish all your people could experience. Until next time.

The List

A friend recently remarked to me: “I have no idea how you prepare to go back.”  She wondered how I knew what I needed, how much I needed to buy, how was it all packed?

I informed her that I have a List. 

When David saw the List recently, he remarked: “That’s not a list.  That’s a mind map.”  True enough.

The whole summer, the List hangs over me like a swarm of Georgia gnats that I just can’t get away from.  I know I need to do the shopping, yet I dread it.

Here’s what usually happens (fellow expats, tell me if this happens to you, too).  When I’m in Indonesia, I think of things that I need or would like to have.  So I start the List.  As the time for our departure for the U.S. nears, the List grows, usually into multiple pages and categories.  Items include the usual: sunscreen, new swim gear, grits, spices, pepperoni, gifts for the kids, clothes.

Then, when I get to America and I make that initial trip to Wal-Mart or Target, I get Shopper’s Paralysis.  The sticker shock, the options available, and the sheer size of most American stores do me in.  Did you know the average woman is now faced with a staggering number of choices when it comes to underwear? I was in Crisis Mode in the underwear department of Target. Unable to decide, I finally just closed my eyes and grabbed some. 

There’s also the size and weight of items to consider.  “Will it fit in a suitcase? And how will it survive baggage handlers?” I ask myself as I size up a possible purchase. 

Overwhelmed by the variety, prices, and size of things I start to talk myself out of whatever purchases Indonesian Natalie had convinced herself she needed.  “Do you really need pecans, face lotion, lunch containers, etc” I ask myself, as I wander the store aisles.  Most of my list will eventually be bought, but some things (an iced tea dispenser, a zipline, my Complete Works of Shakespeare that I try to bring back every time) won’t be making the cut.

Then there are those items that are not on the List, but I see it in the store and convince myself I must have it.  Impulsive Purchase #1: A beeswax candle that melts and becomes lotion.  It’s heavy AND breakable.  What was I thinking?!

The List leads to the Pile

I have been tempted to say, forget the List.  Just go to America, enjoy it while you’re there, and when you get back to Indonesia, just make do with what you can get there.  And I could do that, and be just fine.  But as you can see from the number of items checked off the List, I haven’t taken that step yet.  Maybe next trip.