Papaw

I have been blessed to know all my grandparents.  Not just know them, but have wonderful relationships with each.  Three of them have passed away.  Papaw - Mom's dad - is celebrating his 90th birthday this weekend, and all the family will be there.  All but me and my crew.

I'm sure I've said this before on here somewhere, but this is one of the hardest parts of the expat life.  We have to make peace with the fact that the work we've chosen to do, that we feel called to do, will take us far away from the ones we love the most.

When we first told our families where we'd be moving to, part of me was afraid they might take it as a personal affront - I mean, could we get any further away from them and still be on Earth?
  
I would love to be one of those families that lives close to parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins.  I would love to drop the kids off with the grandparents for a weekend, would love for their cousins to be at their birthday parties, would love to have weekly Sunday lunches - the kind I grew up with - together.

 Our family has been so gracious.  Each wedding, birth, funeral, birthday, family reunion or retirement party we miss - they are so gracious.  They understand that we want to be there, but can't be.  But it's still hard to be the only one not there.

Okay, enough of that.  Here's a little tribute to Papaw.  

He has a sense of humor.

He is one of the most patriotic people I know.  He was in the Navy during World War II and patrolled the waters off of Borneo, not far from where we lived.

He is loyal to his family, and has a soft spot for grands and great-grands.

He calls me "baby" even though I'm over 40.

Happy 90th birthday, Papaw!
 

Through Rachel's Eyes

As I've mentioned on here before, our niece Rachel lived with us for five months.  Before she left a few weeks ago, she shared some of the photos she'd taken during her time here in Sentani.  As I scrolled through them, my first reaction to some of them was, 'Why did she take a photo of THIS?' And then I remembered that whatever 'THIS' was would be weird/new/terrifying to most Americans. The longer we live in Indonesia, the more familiar the foreign becomes.  And that is as it should be, I guess.

So here are a few of Rachel's photos, which give a glimpse into our world:

What, your cat doesn't snuggle up with the just-picked pineapples?

Ice cream flavors: sweet corn and yam

 

No dishwasher here - so every night we have a mountain of dishes like this.

Hotel bathroom with hose attachment. 

Our house is wired for both 110 and 220

This is the "taxi" our kids would ride to school. The jump rope is used to close the door.

Es buah - a drink/dessert with lots of lovely bits in it that, yes, do resemble frogs' eggs.

The horrific leftovers from a car crash - meant as a deterrent to reckless driving

Balloon man, who we later see....

...at the pasar. And yes, I bought one. That panda one.

Power's out - a frequent occurrence

Missionaries don't throw away anything. Case in point: these roller skates.  But hey, they work!

A baby goat in a printing store.  Why not?

Eating on the floor at one of our local eateries

Poetic English

Cigarette packs come with gruesome photos of what smoking can do to you.

Jus Alpokat - Avacado shake.  It's delicious - you just can't think 'guacamole.'

Indonesian airplane food. 

We hardly ever get to use a jetway - usually it's stairs then a bus to the terminal.

Thanks for the photos, Rachel!

Diary of an Injury

By nature, I am not a risk-taker.  No desire to go skydiving, or bungee-jumping, or even scuba diving. However, some might argue that the fact that I, at my advanced age, choose to play basketball, puts me firmly in the Risk Taker Category, right alongside BASE jumpers and lion tamers.  They might be right.

One of the things I love about our community here is the opportunity to be active.  Monday through Friday, there’s a different sport that moms can take part in at the school gym.  My days are Tuesday Volleyball and Friday Basketball.

Now, I should tell you that I am no athlete.  I played two years of basketball in high school that mostly consisted of me making jokes with my friend Tessa as we rode the bench, hoping Coach would put us in, but also slightly terrified that Coach would put us in.

But now, as an adult, playing pickup basketball is awesome.  I start EVERY GAME.  There is no bench to warm, because usually we’re lucky if we have enough players for three-on-three.

Some of the volleyball ladies, circa 2014

We play for about an hour, and exult in all the calories burned.  Then I go home and drink a 600-calorie “recovery shake” that negates all calorie burn. David accuses me of playing basketball just for the recovery shake (Recovery shake: a frozen banana, some milk, some cocoa powder, a few tablespoons of peanut butter).

So what makes this risky? The fact that I keep getting injured.  A few years ago at Friday Basketball I caught a crazy pass and when I looked at my pinky finger it was bent in a freakishly unnatural 90-degree angle.  Thankfully my friend Karen, a nurse, was there, and she popped it right back into place.  But it took weeks to recover.

Last Friday I was playing basketball, and we were having a good game.  Then, a loose ball, and Holsten tussles with another lady for the ball.  Did the thought, “Slow down, honey, and remember the pinky!” go through her mind? No! It was more like, “Ball, ball, must get ball!” and then boom, I was on the floor in pain. 

I had twisted my ankle, and it immediately began to swell to mythic proportions.  David was called, and he very graciously took me to the nearby hospital with a working x-ray for a scan, not once saying what he was probably thinking, “NOW, will you stop playing ball?”

"Where to, ma'am?"

Who gets real x-rays anymore?  A few years ago after the finger incident, I was back in the U.S. and saw an orthopedic doctor for his take on how I was healing.  I handed him the x-ray that was done in Indonesia, and he inspected it like a relic from Tut’s tomb: “Hmm, haven’t seen a film x-ray in a long time.”

This photo has nothing to do with this post, other than we saw this on the way to get the x-ray. A dude carrying a goat on the back of a motorcycle.

Yay for working x-ray machines! Now, just don't think about the dried blood on the table.

Ouch

The waiting "room" outside radiology

But we’re just glad we can get an x-ray here, be it film or digital.  Karen was a big help, writing some doctors in Singapore for an opinion, and checking on my foot.  The pain has been intense, but it appears that it’s just a sprain. Our expat doctor Dr. Di took a look at me yesterday and put me in a boot, and that has helped (our little clinic has quite the collection of boots, crutches and braces that get passed around the community). David just got back from meetings the day before my injury, so he’s been able to chauffeur me and the kids around and help with everything.

In many ways, Indonesia is a wonderful place, but it is sorely unaccommodating to those with physical disabilities.  Trying to negotiate parking lots and stores in crutches is about as easy as roller skating at the beach.  And because most cars here – including ours – are manual transmission, I’m unable to drive with a gimpy foot.  This experience has made me more empathetic with those dealing with long-term disability here.  I think of the man who often sits outside one of the stores in town, and I understand better why he moves so slowly on his crutches. 

On Thursday, David brought out two medivac patients, both with foot injuries, and neither had crutches, so they got pushed from the plane to the ambulance on a luggage cart. It kind of makes me mad when I contrast that with the American experience of handicapped parking, handrails, ramps, and ECVs outside of every Wal-Mart that make it so much easier to get around with an injury.

David's medivac passengers catch a ride to the ambulance

A few people, after hearing how I hurt myself, have said, “Well now, that’s why I don’t play sports!” It’s crazy, but all I can think is, how long till I can get back out there and play? So maybe I am more of a risk taker than I thought.

2015: Year In Review

It's the last day of 2015 here in Papua, and I'm taking a moment during a brief pause in the fireworks and music from the pondok Natal to reflect on this past year. There were challenges for sure, but also moments of fun and much to be thankful for.  Here are a few highlights:

Safety in flying and travel
While David doesn't fly as much as he used to, he flew about 100 hours in the challenging terrain of Papua, all safe and accident-free.  We don't take this lightly, and if you are one of the people who pray for us and our safety, thank you! We also did lots of traveling - motorbikes on sketchy roads, car trips around town in heavy traffic, boat rides to the beach, airplane trips around the archipelago, and trips across the Pacific.  We are thankful for safe travels.
 

David with some passengers

40
 I turned 40 this year, and it's taken me almost a full year to come to grips with it.  But I think I'm finally okay with it, which is a good thing considering I'm almost 41.  Time to move on. 

Don't worry, young friends, 40 may not be this scary for you.

The end of teaching and the start of writing
The first half of 2015 I was teaching two high school English classes.  There were parts of it I loved - getting to know the students, rereading the classics - but for various reasons I decided to stop teaching, at least for now.  In its place I've been writing more, and with a friend started a writing group this fall.  There are about six of us that meet once a month to exchange critique on our writing and encourage each other in our writing projects.  It's been an exercise in vulnerability to put my writing before other people and ask for criticism, but it's been great.  One of my current projects is a children's novel set in Mississippi. One goal for 2016 is to finish this and read it to my two younger kids.  I've read aloud countless children's books over the years, and I know what makes an enjoyable read-aloud, and I know what my kids like, so I've been writing with them in mind.

Books
In our family reading is the number one hobby, and there were some great books passed around this year.  All the Light We Cannot See and I Capture the Castle were two young adult books some of us read and enjoyed.  Quiet - a book about introverts and how our society tends to favor extroverts - gave me insight into the introverts in my life, and Boys Adrift challenged us about how to best help our boys grow into men, and not just stay boys. Cutting for Stone, State of Wonder, and The Invention of Wings were the best fiction I read this year. Neal Gabler's biography Walt Disney is a must for any Disney fan.  Grandma Gatewood's Walk was inspiring, and Same Kind of Different As Me made me cry.  I read Wuthering Heights for the first time, and didn't really care for Heathcliff.  Of the books that I read with Luke and Zoe this year, Zoe liked The Wolves of Willoughby Chase best, and Luke liked The Master Puppeteer. 

A rare precious moment, no one tugging the blanket or hogging the pillows

Furlough
We spent the summer in the USA, and loved our time with family and friends.  Aside from the usual speaking in churches, consuming vast amounts of blueberries and Chik-Fil-A, and dropping some serious cash at Target, some other positive things happened - Carter had his first jobs, he visited the college he'll probably be attending, and I started to get a handle on the anxiety I've been experiencing.  I haven't written much about that, but hope to do so soon.
 

Beams

Holstens

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Return to Tarakan
In November, I was able to return to Tarakan in East Kalimantan, where we served for 10 years.  I reconnected with old friends and made some new ones, and took many trips down memory lane as I drove around that little island.  
 

My beloved Orpa

MAF Ladies

New babies
This year we were able to meet the new little people in our lives - baby Natalie my cousin, baby Natalie my "grandbaby", and my niece Annalee.  And yesterday our newest niece, Georgia Mae, was born and we are excited to meet her.  
 

Aunt Mary and Baby Natalie

"Grandma" and Natalie, Orpa's baby girl

Grace and her cousin Annalee

Another "baby" of 2015 is Braveheart, a gecko that Carter found as an egg and kept in his room until it hatched and found its way to a crack in the wall.  Every night when we sit in the living room to read or watch tv, he comes out, never venturing more than a few inches from his home.  It probably sounds ridiculous to think we love this little guy, but we do.
 

Braveheart being brave

Our last baby of the year is Little Guy, our sugar glider.  He has the cutest little face, but watch out when you wave a grasshopper in front of his nose.  Then he's all teeth and claws.

 
That pretty much wraps up 2015.  As we look ahead to 2016, we know major changes await our family when Carter graduates and moves on.  We hope it is a year of greater dependence on God, as we trust Him to grow us in our faith and in our capacity to love others.

Happy New Year! Selamat Tahun Baru!  



 

When Being O Negative is a Positive

Filling out paperwork before donating blood (photo by Ruth Boyd)

The phone rang mid-nap recently and my son answered.  By the time I came to and stumbled out of my bedroom, the call was over and he told me, "Someone needs blood."

My heart sank.  If I get a call about someone needing blood, it usually means something tragic has happened.  I called the local expat doctor and she said I could give blood the next day to help a young European woman who had lost several liters of blood during an operation.

'Why would they call you?' you may ask.  I have what is considered a rare blood type in these parts: O negative.  Hardly anyone living in our part of Asia has O negative blood.  And here's the thing about O negative - you can only receive your blood type.  However, my blood type is known as the "universal donor" because anyone can receive O negative.  Aren't we special?

A few times during our years in Indonesia I have been called on to give blood, and I have been happy to do it.  I imagine what it would be like if I needed blood, and how awful not to find a donor, so I am more than willing to give if there's a need.

Once we were on vacation in Bali and I read in the paper that there was a dire need for O negative, so I called the Red Cross and they sent a mobile unit to our hotel to collect my blood. Because that's what you do on vacation, right? I read somewhere that the number one cause of injury and death for westerners in Indonesia is motorcycle accidents in Bali, so they always are looking for O negative.

Another time I donated was when we were living in Kalimantan, and a young Indonesian living in a nearby town needed blood.  I donated, but there was so much paperwork and logistics to work out in how to get the blood to her that, sadly, she passed away before she got it.

This most recent blood need a few weeks ago was an opportunity for me to discover who all in our small expat community has O negative, and, surprisingly, there are about six of us. 

Three of us gave one morning at a local hospital, with our local expat doctor organizing us. I look like I'm enjoying a day at the spa in the photo below, but I was actually trying hard not to think about the needle, and also ignoring the wasp that was buzzing around my head.

One pint of O negative coming up! (Photo by Ruth Boyd)

 The best part of this particular blood donation was that about a week later, I met the lady who received our blood.  She was at the Christmas Eve service we attended, and she looked great.  She hugged me and thanked me for donating, and it was just so cool to have been part of a happy outcome.

 

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.