I Choose Joy

Technology is both my friend and my enemy. After spending 5 days without internet I realized how much I miss this thing I now take for granted. For five painful days I wondered how my boys in college were doing and I wondered what my own folks thought about what was going on here (of course my friend’s FB post about the soldier who came to our window drunk holding an M16 didn’t help).

Though my church tradition doesn’t practice Lent, it’s something I’ve chosen on my own. Last year the kids noticed I had avoided sodas and bought me a Dr. Pepper after Easter. This year I’ve added to that, I’m trying to limit my technology time-not totally give it up as that would also mean I couldn’t do my Skype Bible study or call my family in the US. 21st century missions has some wonderful benefits! But it can be easy to spend hours stumbling through the net reading friends trivia posts or checking out the latest project they’ve pinned and not attend to the current needs of our household.

Reading through a book on third culture kids I’m trying to find more ways to be intentional. I want them to “unpack their bags and plant their trees” living life and loving people wherever they are for as long as they are there. So the ways we often reconnect as a family are through things that become a tradition. It takes effort. Intention on my part.

With Easter on it’s way,  Vita asked about making Resurrection Rolls, and our little one  just yesterday said, “When are we planting our Easter Garden?” They remember these things. I enjoy the fact that in Latin America we have an entire week off to make a big deal over the resurrection-because it’s central to our faith.

So perhaps I will disconnect a little more often with technology and reconnect more intentionally with these blessings God has given.

We celebrated Chinese New Year with our American friends in Honduras. They have three adpoted Chinese children. The food was picked up from Thai King- a local place that makes “Chinese”-even “tacos del chino” or eggrolls. You can’t have a much more cross-cultural experience than that.

Later I reflected on the transient nature of the expat community. My kids are also part of that TKC group. During the 70′s while I watched shows like “The Waltons” and “Little House on the Prairie” I dreamed of my ownplace out in the country where my family would grow up and stay. God has a sense of humor, my Dad would say, because other than those few years in small town Tennessee my childhood fantasy has become quite another thing as an adult. I wouldn’t change it, but there are days when it’s unsettling to be rootless.

Over the weekend we hosted an event at the school, a competition for the high schoolers where they were quizzed on a wide scope of knowledge. Trading off babysitting responsibilties with daughter #2 we went alternately to the matches or stayed here. Inside. All.weekend. long. Yup, I was a feeling a little claustrophobic with construction workers out front and in my side yard and hundreds of kids from other schools all over the campus. Reminded me of that time at the end of carrying my kids when I felt claustrophobic in my own skin. No where to go to get away from it. There are days when living the way we do is a stretch. When I long for a car and wide open spaces. And it’s a challenge to choose joy and go forward when what I want to do is watch old “Waltons” episodes and hide.

As we approach the season of Lent I’m reminded of how very little I truely give up. How seldom I deny myself by choice. Today on FB someone had posted this quote by CS Lewis, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking about yourself less.” Moments of contemplation are not wrong. But spending a large part of your time considering your own self is such a waste. My verse for memory this week is Jude 24 and 25, “Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with EXCEEDING JOY, to GOd our Savior, who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power both now and forever Amen.”

I took piano lessons. I think I was in about the third grade. And I believe I can hold a tune fairly well. But me  teaching a group of 30 Honduran kids a new song in children’s church is apparently pretty hysterical if you speak with my husband. Now he gives the whole back story of an unrelated event when we were first married involving a lost remote control and a fairly “blonde” moment- yeah I have those though I tell people blonde jokes are really about decided blondes (the ones who decided to be blonde with a bottle of peroxide). Back on track.

Sunday I made the mistake of choosing not one, but two new songs for children’s church. We were teaching about Abraham and God’s timing and honestly the game idea wasn’t going to work with 30 kids in a small space-so I adapted and thought teaching Father Abraham fit pretty well with a game-lots of movement right. My first clue should have been when I asked Richard if Honduran kids might know the song and he said, “if they’ve been to school.” Ok, does that mean public school or here at Pinares? I asked for clarification and he told me, “at school here at Pinares.” Well, they haven’t been here, but certainly it can’t be that hard to figure out the words and teach it. The internet is my friend. Of course when you look up songs you should make sure they’ve not been adjusted by the Catholic church when translated into Spanish, or that a gringo hasn’t mangled the translation. Our co -teachers adjusted what I found and I wrote it out on posterboard. I found my second song in the hymnal-or so I thought.

When I got up to teach a VERY simple children’s song-goodness it only has 4 words in the whole thing- I apparently gave a very complicated explanation of how everyone was going to stand for their part. And I used the word “gracias” in place of “gloria” because I was a little flustered with the confused looks. Jorge, one of our co-leaders had decided to help and was singing a completely different tune, composed on the spot and in constant change. This really wasn’t helping. Apparently that combined with  my dacing back and forth between the two groups of kids belting out the song hit dear hubby as particularly funny. But he had the grace to quietly correct my grammar and waited to laugh until we were home. Looking back, it really was pretty funny. And we made it through another week with 30 lively kids who enjoyed church.

Later as I was doing a Revelation study with my TN ladies I can hear, “quick, before Mommy finishes her Bible study” in the background. Yep, that’s dangerous. Just what are they up to? I came out and they had cleaned up the kitchen and front room because they wanted to have a superbowl party. They’d also ordered enough pizza for a brigade so we invited our friends just back from Peru to help us eat it.

And another fun church event. We passed out our directories. Everyone was amazed to actually have them in their hands. Harold found Freilin ( a young mute man) to help him pass them out as he wasn’t feeling well. Freilin loved the challenge of finding folks by their picture and giving them their photo and directory ( we also printed a family 5×7 for everyone).

All in all it was a good day.

He struggles up a handmade ladder carrying a five gallon bucket of cement on his shoulder. Two stories into the air he climbs and then deposits it on top of the platform they’ve knocked together. It seems as if they will surely connect with the power line at the back of this platform, but somehow the man in the rear avoids it. Perhaps it’s just my perspective and he’s not really that close.

Like ants in a line they carry up one bucket after another of cement. They wear a towel to protect their neck from the hot sun, but I’m more worried one will get off balance and break his neck as he steps wrong on that shakey scaffolding they’ve constructed.

As I negotiate Spanish past tense they keep going and soon I’ve moved on to Father Abraham and children’s church but they are still at it. Mix the cement with stones and water, load it into the bucket, hoist it up on a shoulder and carry it two stories up. Lord you are giving me a new appreciation for these people and this place you have called us to. Make me as diligent with the simple tools you provide to do the work before me.

There are days when trying to finish one job just lead to three more.  When you decide to tackle the mounds of laundry and find there’s no more soap (so you dig out the makings for laundry soap) and while you are there you notice the floor cleaner and remember that bottle was also empty.

Then while the laundry soap is melting you look out and see that the poor hummingbirds have nothing to eat so you leave the dishes again and put some sugar and water in a pan, because it might as well boil while you stand and do dishes and the soap simmers…. then while you clean the feeders, because they smelled nasty and it’s a wonder you didn’t kill the hummingbirds you see the trash again that is strewn around the yard (you stepped over it when you went for the soap fixings) and you wish that you could find a slingshot in the boys’ things to take care of those trash picking stray dogs.

Thinking of the boy reminds you that you left the sandwich components out on the other counter after making him a hurried sandwich before school and you return those to the fridge, but while it’s open you might as well get a glass of iced tea-unfortunately the pitcher is empty which means you need to make more and when you go to put water on to boil you see the water jug is also empty and you have to hoist a new 5 gallon bottle up and where are those strong teenagers who used to do this for you? You haven’t talked to them lately, maybe you should call, or are they in classes now?

Yes, a Mother’s mind is often like the children’s book about giving a mouse a cookie. One thing leads to another and multitasking can quickly become ADD. And I can spend my morning fussing at everyone who didn’t do what they were supposed to and left Mom to fix it or I can thank God for these ones who create the mess because I know from experience that the time is far too short.

How is it possible that those years with 3 muddy boys have morphed into these with little girls who play school and want to paint my nails for me? The boys who when left to their own devices found an open can of paint and decided to help….and I read an old letter Dad sends me and laugh that those 3 could leave me overwhelmed almost to tears and now the tears come when I think of their own separate lives.

So on days when there’s too much to do I claim the words of Elizabeth Elliot and, “just do the next thing,” and as boys #2 would be proud to quote, I “keep moving forward.”

At this point in the construction process that’s taking place in our yard it’s impossible to access our front door from the road. We quite literally have a moat around the front of our house. When we walked out to church last week we had to cross the boards over the ditch (unfortunately this did not prevent the stray dogs from getting into our garbage-they have no problem jumping the ditch). Today we had a literal caravan of groceries- wheel barrow, wagon and several folks walking with eggs and such. Keeps life interesting.

As we walked out to meet the bus we got an animal display from the guys on the roof nextdoor. The maintenance guys were removing the tin roof to get rid of the bats. It seems they’ve become such a problem that they actually cause dirt to fall from all their scurrying around up there. Hope they don’t move to our house.

Two days ago we had our own “infestation” here. The cat caught a rat on the porch and then some child opened the door to take a look and whoosh-inside ran kitty with the somewhat startled rat-yuck. Cat drops the rat to see it run some more and we have kids, cat and rat in a chase through bedrooms. Never dull here. All types of caravans.

Last night my engineer-studying son called. It was late for us, after 9, and since things here start moving shortly after 5 am I had to make myself walk down the hall and pick up the phone just to see who it was. When you’re the Mom with young kids you look forward to the days when your sleeping schedule will be normal again. Someone should tell those Moms that it’s a permanent vocation. Your life will never be what it once was-and you wouldn’t choose to go backward. Teenagers, and then college kids, love to talk late at night.

The engineer was talkative for him, telling me about his clock project. The pieces had begun to arrive in the mail and they will soon start their design. It will be narrowed down to four teams and then the winning one will actually have their project reproduced full scale in the student center. It has to conform to certain specifications and give time according to the Greenwich Mean Time, which is the universal. (Yes, I do remember that from our shortwave radio days.)

Then he went on to describe his Advanced Physics class and how time is actually another dimension. Gravitational pull on the earth affects time and if you could go and orbit the sun time would actually slow down for you. When they design satellites in outer space they have to put mathematical programs on them that compensate for the lack of gravity so that they don’t change postion because it goes at a rate of almost 3 feet in a year……It’s fun to hear him excited and I’m so thankful to God for this boy whose mind functions so totally different than mine and I’m glad he understands what he’s talking about though mostly I just agree because my math classes ended with trigonometry and analytical geometry and they were so many years ago.

There are long pauses and I have to prompt the conversation until I hit an area of interest again. He doesn’t waste words. I compare my amazement of the detail of higher math to the simplicity of construction going on outside my front door. They are building 2 story duplexes and water towers by hand. No heavy equipment. They carry the cement up hand constructed scaffolding (bits of 2x4s all nailed together) and they carry it in 5 gallon buckets, one bucket at a time. In order to make sure a foundation is level they construct a wooden frame larger than the base, then they tie strings at the right levels and break giant rocks into small bits joining them with buckets of cement and constantly rechecking their strings to make sure it’s level. That they can build a decent building without any of the benefits of technology is amazing to me! And he remembers how in Madagascar when they were on a mission team they used a bottle of water turned on it’s side to check the level. Born while we lived in Asia, he’s been to every continent except South America- maybe one day he will be the engineer on a project there.

Soon it was time for him to hang up and head out to devotions with his floor. And as I headed back to bed I thanked God for a glimpse into the dimension where my handsome young engineer lives. Thank you Lord for a long refreshing talk with the engineer, for fellowship of prayer together with the ladies, for fresh  pine straw on the garden and strawberries starting, for a warm meal after a chilly day, for flavored coffee creamers, dreams of a ladies day out to come…..

So when you already live in a country other than the one stamped on your passport, when you are trying and failing to learn another tongue, when living this way costs heart-hurt for those family and friends doing life somewhere else….what exactly does radical look like here?

Wasn’t it already radical that I left that house with the pool? Isn’t it radical that I walk most everywhere I go because I don’t own a car? Then again, I have a washing machine and a stove while people at my church wash their clothes by hand and cook meals over a wood fire. Their children go to a public school where teachers are frequently on strike and they brave public transportation to get there. In comparison to this perhaps my life isn’t radical at all.

It’s said that comparison is the thief  of joy. I can always find someone in a better situation-or a worse one. God hasn’t called us to compare. He wants me to be faithful where He’s placed me. My living radical looks different than yours.

As our study group finishes discussing the last chapter of Platt’s book I’m trying to write down specifics of what this looks like in my life. Spend time in another context- easy, doing it, read the Bible in a year, commit to memorize, commit to a community of believers, SACRIFICE financially-hmmm, pray for the WHOLE world…..well I guess there’s still some room for growth. Thank you Father, that my children walked home from school today because we live on the campus, for knowledge bowl practice, for violin lessons, for new to us movies, for tortillas delivered to my door, for an orderly office area to work in, for memories of growing up in PA as I read, for a boy so proud of that new stethescope, for a growing children’s church….

They saw us out walking and decided to follow. It was early on a Sunday and perhaps they had nothing to do. A gringo family might have seemed an easy target, or at least a hope of something free. They fell into stride behind and then next to us, began asking if the church could get them some school supplies. Who was that face? Where had I seen him before?

They listened through Sunday school as the Mensajeres and Embassadores heard a presentation from a Honduran couple going to India as missionaries. The couple taught them to sing ” This is the Day” in Bengali and the words were strange to Spanish tongues. When the offering plate went round for the missionary couple, one boy managed to sneak out a handful and hoped no one noticed. He buried it in the pocket of the baggy shorts he wore-too cold for this wet foggy day.

I sat behind him in the last row as we gathered children for Culto Infantil (children’s church). The smell of unwashed boys was close even though we were out in the open air. How could a mother let her boys wander alone? Were they supposed to contribute to the family income in any manner? Did she mind that they stold from a church for their gain? They moved closer to the front row and our oldest heard them plotting how they could take her bag when everyone bowed for prayer. Then they asked to go the bathroom and wandered off trying to find other victims.

How can you change a heart that looks only to its own gain at the expense of others? Can I make them see that what they really need is not just a few Lempira for lunch, but spiritual food that could change their whole world.

I asked someone later about them. Oh yes, them, he said. Their mother sells tortillas on the street and no one knows who their father is. They make holes in the road and fill them up hoping for a handout. It’s best not to give them anything. It only encourages their behavior. They need to learn to work.

But who will teach them?

So we’ve been back here in Honduras for a week today. And it’s the middle of January already so everyone is over talking about how the Mayan calendar didn’t lead to the end of the world-I’m not even sure how much tourism grew here to see the ruins. So as we look at the year ahead how does one approach a new year with an eternal perspecitve?

Perhaps it’s because I’ve been reading a book on the persecuted church in China. Combine that with the fact that I was the one who needed to find a home for 14 suitcases of “stuff” aquired while in the US. True, most of it will find another home over time and was carried here with that intention. But how do I avoid the American trap of having my time consumed with stuff (aquiring it, organizing it, caring for it, etc) instead of people, who are the only things that last into eternity? My quote for the week was from Platt’s Radical, and basically went,”How is it that a company in Atlanta has done a better job of selling brown sugar water to the world than the church has done to carry the gospel?”

I’m beginning with the disciplines that will place my heart in order. I found that MacArthur one year Bible and I’m starting in July this time so that a missed day doesn’t throw me off and cause me to quit (I’ve read the Pentateuch often-need to make it through all those minor prophets)-maybe I’ll ask my prayer group to help keep me accountable here. And we’re continuing the 52 key memory passages (We did 21 last year). I’m also starting Ann Voscamp’s Romans challenge-it was too much of a “coincidence” that this is also a passage our pastor encourages each of us at church to memorize. Maybe by the end of the year I can have it in English AND spanish.

Once my heart is aligned I can use that Home Management notebook. Throw out the old, reorganize for the new year…Lots of new responsibilities mean I need a place to keep it altogether. I will attempt to be a better communicator. And then to keep that list of grace… Sunshine at last for laundry. The garden that though trampled and cut down will regrow. Progress in my front yard that means new neighbors. Celebrating the coming of another baby this school year to the school family. Jubilant one’s quote, “That’s me, how did they get my picture?!” over a drawing from when I was an infant. Boy #2′s excitement over a new car and responsibility to change titles and insurance. Boy #3′s happy birthday!