What do you do all day anyway?

Friday, December 20, 2019
Can you believe Christmas is just around the corner? Woohoo! Two covered dishes, brought from my mom's collection, remind me how far away we are from a wintery season.

Anyone living near a coast or in the tropics knows the constant maintenance that keeps things going. We moved into this place 5 years ago. The outdoor wood has worn in sunlight and strong winds. It's been chewed by termites and peed on by civits (wild cats) and rodents. The roof leaks where the tiles have shifted. The tiles have begun to slide off and there's water damage where the eaves have pulled away. (See the V? That's supposed to be a closed right angle: it's the supporting board for the last course of roof tiles.)

Our landlord agrees to pay for repairs and W agrees to oversee them.

For the past 3 weeks, a small agile man has manipulated +30 bamboo stalks into custom scaffolding. He moves them around the roofline to access the second and third floors. (No muscled Western handymen need apply - think of their weight on those poles.)

Today, the handyman adjusts the last roof tiles, nails up a few more boards that have drooped with water weight, and sprays wood stain on the swath of ceiling over the porch. He paints the end wall where bats have tried to find a foothold or pooped as they swoop around at night. I snap a his picture through the bedroom sheers, just before he climbs down and dismantles his perch.

When he's done, the varnished wood glows. "Hopefully he hasn't sprayed on too much, because then it stays tacky," says the pessimist among us. The wood drinks in the stain - you can't leave anything unprotected for long.

On our last visa run to Singapore, we found some jingle bells in a baking shop. I string a few packs of bells onto a 10 meter (30'), 50c ribbon. (I couldn't believe the price either.) We drape them above the edge of the porch. The wind rattles them in a gentle hiss. I can't wait to hear what happens when the afternoon storm blows through.

The Spanish moss is starting to fill in, too. I unwound ten circle-frames of moss into a long line. We hung them on the edge of the porch roof. Only one neighbor overlooks us and an old guava tree provides privacy for most of the teras. The hanging moss is becoming a beautiful grey curtain in the gap.

Some people, reading the blog, may wonder if we work at all. Or what we do, since we have weekly assistance. This week, the yardman chopped down the lawn and tamed the hedge with his machete. The helpers baked 4 loaves of bread and filled 12 ancient Tupperware boxes with cookies for Tuesday's Christmas Eve service and a potluck at our place on Wednesday.

We go shopping for enough eggs (56 this week), flour and sugar (8 lbs of each), and other supplies. I supply the recipes and do ongoing demos. One morning, before help arrives at 8, I plug our old KitchenAid mixer into the power converter, and whip up batches of sugar cookie dough. It feels so good to bake; I rarely get a chance. In an hour, 6 long cylinders of dough are cooling in the fridge, ready to be rolled out, baked, and decorated while I'm at the office.

We don't let our helpers use our best appliances: they instantly burned out a new hand mixer ("Oh, you have to wait for the butter to soften?") and - to W's frustration - have torn out both ends of the wet-dry vacuum ("Oh, sorry. We've been dragging it from room to room when we clean.")

"Um, this is how to do it, please." W orders a replacement vacuum hose and I remind them to push not drag the vacuum when it's needed. They usually sweep and mop away the daily dust and dirt.

Our helpers are willing learners and good workers. I love and appreciate the two women more each year; it also feels less awkward to have them here working around me. One is here two days for special event baking and cooking. The other comes M-F. But since locals don't grow up with appliances, it requires hours of instruction and ongoing explanations before we can hand over repetitive chores.

Ask any expatriate. Those who live in small houses and apartments often do everything themselves. It's easier in the short run than constantly overseeing another person, giving instructions, and prepping supplies for someone else. In a bigger home, with people coming and going, "no help" limits either cleanliness or what we can do.

I love having help! It's an investment to teach others what we need and prefer. Yet our helper jumps in when the house floods or to make tea for a full house of visitors. She'll strip beds and irons the clean sheets. Can't complain. And I am SO grateful.

Our kids also grew up doing chores. I was never an "I have to do everything perfectly" kind of mom. My motto is "Delegate, delegate, and do what you can do best and what only you can do." It takes high energy bursts for events, deep focus for research, and corralling endless details to plan things that look simple or effortless. W and I are speaking on Sunday. The team helped plan the Candlelight Service on Christmas Eve. I'll cook for a host of friends on Christmas Day. What fun! Yes there's a lot to do. But ...

The pressure or stress unwinds when I nap, make art, design things, or just drink in the beauty around us. I love the rhythm of doing, going, and resting. We listen to hours of scripture and read a lot of books - all kinds of books - not just useful ones, but playful, artsy, designer books, as well as novels.

So when you see pictures as we take pleasure in God's wonderful works and his stunning world, enjoy them with us, ok? You'd love it here. Just saying - at 8:40 a.m., the temperature is 27C (80F). Going to be a hot one today.

Read more:
*You, Lord, brought me up from the realm of the dead; you spared me from going down to the pit. Psalm 30:3 

*The free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:2 

Moravian Prayer: Merciful God, we thank you for the hope and future that is ours in Christ. Gracious God, we thank you for the life and freedom that is ours in Christ. Amen.