The Stuff of Life: 3 things + a question

We get wrapped up in a lot of things. That's what I'm thinking this week. Here are 3 observations and a question for you.

1. It's only stuff.

"Where your treasure is, your heart will be also," Jesus said. That's so true. Stuff is only ... well, stuff.

I tend to surround myself with things that are functional as well as beautiful. Since we started out marriage without much money, I started swapping things around. As a young bride living in my in-laws' former house, I traded the rooms for living and dining. That worked best for us but was probably a surprise when W's parents came to visit their house. Even back then,  we spent more time sitting with people at the dinner table than relaxing and looking out the window. Plus, we suddenly had a fireplace in the dining room - how cool is that? and the living room was just off the sliding doors to the back deck rather than a squeeze behind the dining room furniture.

As we recover from these tropical fevers (and we're pretty-much back to usual), the pressure to move things around mounts in my head. For a few days, I think about our main space. If I move too soon, the creative tension doesn't release in the same way. One night I drag the bench from the living room into the dining area.

Without the bench, the whole room feels bigger. Good enough for now. Sometimes it's enough to move something away.

The space contains items gathered over the years. Not one of them is valuable in itself.

• art from a gallery close-out
• weird pink tray-tables (IKEA, 80% off)
• vases discarded by others
• a white metal sheet found at the back of a woodshed
• a kilim rug handwoven in northern Afghanistan by Turkmans, first unrolled for us during a break at a conference on another island
• pillows wrapped in fabric from a store crammed to the ceiling with color
• a table left behind by previous tenants, covered with a "Made in China" embroidered tablecloth that I bought in Germany as a teen 

... each piece reminds me of something or someone, from my own first travels up to our student friends from the -stans (former Russian satellite countries). Such memories of God's faithfulness.

Stuff in itself isn't life-giving. You have to clean and maintain it. It's sure not worth stressing over when a helper drops a favorite ornament or smashes a few dishes.

What I treasure when I see things is the feeling of people and places: the smile my mom's tea set brings versus the sigh over the quilt that took me 15 years to finish. Our life has been so rich and full already. Things remind me of God's goodness and faithfulness. (Of course, they're also tools for hospitality and blessing others, right?)

2. Things thrive when conditions are right.

That's true for people as well as nature. God clothes the flowers more exquisitely than the cloth used for a king's robe, said Jesus. Apparently God's showing off with lavishness this month. The neighbor's 9' (3 meter tall) hedge is glowing with bundles of petals.

The orchids Dr Ingrid brought over are gorgeous. I stop to smell the Vandas most mornings and evenings.

Each orchid is a living sculpture.

The little succulents we popped into sand-filled trays last year have exploded. 

When you look closely, each ruffled and rounded edge has its own splendor.

We're enjoying the vegetables from the aquaponics farm. Even the handwriting on the bill is pretty. I like examining at how people have been taught to write letters and numbers. In Indonesia's fonts, you read the colonial heritage of Dutch schools.

3. When it's over, let it go. 

Things don't stay in place, whether they get damaged by time or just lose their usefulness. And what you have is meaningless if you don't share it with others. 

This sign at a restaurant reminded me of community values around us: other people are the reason we have to be careful. Life is not all about you or me.

W's looking for something specific and hungry for the 55c hot dogs at IKEA. We make a trip this week to an almost-empty warehouse. I pick up a black frame for the tulip painting by Ruth's dad. Can't wait to put it on the office shelf. It reminds me to pray for all the dear friends who pass through our lives, year by year.

This week, the ceiling of the meeting hall tumbles down. No one is in the building at the time, thank God. The termites have slowly eaten their way through the rafters, though the surface plaster which looked perfectly fine. 

Wednesday morning, I see a dark puddle on our kitchen counter. Oh oh, what is that? It's brown and sticky: organic cane syrup has broken its glass bottle and leached from the upper cabinets all the way down the shelves. Either someone cracked the bottle or there was a flaw in the glass. Doesn't matter how it happens. It's a mess.

That's the way it goes. Stuff doesn't last. We buy groceries and consume them. Our clothing tears and we wear out our shoes. We outlive our pets and miss them when they're gone. It's a mark of being mortal.

Often, we may find ourselves holding onto things that have no value to us. If we're no longer enjoying an item, it may be worth taking a picture to capture it. As long as we send it onward to someone who will appreciate it. 

Downsize. Declutter. Keep what's working and discard the rest? It's an ongoing process as life changes.

This week's question: Are you holding onto relationships or things that you should - or could - let go? If so, how is that serving you?

Read more:

*As for mortals, their days are like grass; they flourish like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone. But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting. Psalm 103: 1-17

Through Jesus Christ we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. Romans 5:2

Moravian Prayer: Loving God, happy are we who know your steadfast love and redeeming grace, and blessed are we when we share your glory with others. Nurture our growth, that we may radiate your love to the world. Amen.

We all fall down: 3 Things + a Question

1. You never know when something will fail.

So ... the roof falls down in the hall. We rent from a wonderful organization with a conference center that benefits the whole city. Kids play soccer here, they host language lessons, and groups come in for special events. Due to the city-wide lockdown, no one was in the hall when the ceiling disintegrated. Thank God!

The termites have eaten through the rafters and only the skin of the wood is left.

The middle of the ceiling falls in first. A few days later the rest of the plaster comes down on top of the sofa. The managers are quick respond: before the week is out, the sofa is in the office (away from the termites). And the metal rafters are going up.

The office looks more like a living room. Makes me smile when I come to work.

2. People are ready and willing to help.

Sometimes carers get overwhelmed. Our city hospitals are packed: COVID is in the neighborhoods and people are very sick. Vaccinations go on and those help tamp down the death rate. But even the vaccinated caregivers are overwhelmed. Some have died. Vaccinations of helpers and residents goes on in the universities, hospitals, and clinics. So far, Sinovac (Chinese traditional vaccine) is our option. W and I are fully vaccinated.

We do our regular videos (3 a week) and updates. Between visits and meetings, I need some art time. What's nearby? I spray-paint a pretty blue on the empty Ramadan cookie pails for the office balcony. The red ones from 2020 add a pop of color. Next plastic-cookie-pail season, I may add green.

3. Coping takes many forms. At its best, it is helpful or useful.

For me, making art or music helps me process the lockdown. During zoom calls, I pull out stencils and watercolors - each call is its own mosaic.

In the neighborhood, someone is repairing their curb with bricks and mortar. Each layer of repair (see the new little brick wall?) and each pass of paving - here gravel, asphalt, and concrete - adds to the history of the street. The drainage ditch isn't very even since it was built around obstacles and fences, but it does the job during heavy rainfalls.

We spot our yardman Pak Lili clipping grass at a neighbor's house with his hedge scissors. He does most lawns this way or uses a machete to skim off the tips of the grass.

Meanwhile, someone has added striping to the street, carefully going around tree roots so as not to disturb any spirits living in the branches. The garbage was dumped at the side of the street, a common occurrence by those without garbage pickup. The individual helpers sweep the streets in front of a house daily. That lucky-someone will have to pick up the littered trash, hopefully before the plethora of cats go through it.

We have to put anything we're sending to friends up on the top of the porch swing. Otherwise dogs (ours) and cats (everyone else's) think it's for them. Here, a plate of cookies waits to be delivered.

I find the right IKEA frame for Rut's dad's painting. Makes me smile every time I see the tulips. They join a silver Filipino jeepney (public bus in the Philippines) and a seed pod found on the street.

One day, we join friends for lunch and a theology chat. 

On the way home, we stop by the reject shop (imperfect dishes). A set of 6 cups and saucers costs about $18US. They'd sell for $50-100 or more in the USA or Europe. I've seen the labels in houseware shops in Seattle.

Racks of dishes - "seconds" bowls, plates, and serving pieces - are heaped high. I come home with a few plates to send along with birthday cookies this coming year.

We also pass a new-to-me fabric market street. We find out that the fabrics sold in the city markets and shops come from here. Once this COVID lockdown is over, I'll have to head down to see their batiks. Bolts of cloth of every kind line the almost-empty streets.

Casey has come to visit for the week. This little cutie attacks anyone when she's in her owner's arms and is a fierce guardian when they have her on a leash. She is friendly as can be otherwise and everyone likes her. She keeps Laurel good company.

Another relief for me: I publish Volume 2 of my 3-book series on the women who served around the world in the early 1900s. They're a fascinating group - not necessarily educated, not very connected to resources.

The women believed that God was calling, sending, and supporting them. What more did they need? So they left their American hometowns to teach, preach, run schools, and set up medical care in Africa, Asia, South and Latin Americas, Europe. 

They were an amazing group, changing the world. Much of the boom in global literacy in the 1900s was due to such women.

Book 1 is free on Kindle Unlimited. Vol 3 is also available but needs a TOC. (I'll get to that eventually.) They'll be in paperback once I figure out how to put a cover on them. I'm such a tech dummy.

We go to town one morning to get PCR tests so we can attend a conference. Earlier this week Ibu Apong baked double-ginger cookies (chopped and powdered ginger). She dipped them halfway in melted chocolate. It's hard to leave the small luxuries behind, even if they're waiting in the fridge for our return ...

The scribble on my notebook cover:

Here's this week's question: "What would you find hardest to leave behind if God asked you to serve far from home?"

Read more:

*Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. 

 

Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Then I will teach transgressors your ways, so that sinners will turn back to you. Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God, you who are God my Savior, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. 

Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare your praise. You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise. Psalm 51:10-15

*[God says, ]They shall be mine and I will spare them as parents spare their children who serve. Malachi 3:17

*He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will. Ephesians 1:5

Moravian Prayer; Merciful God, teach us your compassion and grace, that we may forgive ourselves, as you forgive us, when we stumble or go astray. May we remain yours forever as a blessed and holy family. Amen.

3 things + a question: On a Father's Influence

Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. Howard Thurman

Three things I thought about this Fathers Day:

1. Be who you are. That's who you're meant to be.

This year my 3 brothers and I celebrated our first Fathers Day without Dad. I couldn't call him up and say, "Hey Pop, how are you?" I missed his cheerful greeting across the years of "Good, of course. How else would I be doing?" I also missed his weary "like an old man" of the last 2 years, after an accident derailed his health.

It was my brother Will's birthday last week. We got to catch up. He, like my other brothers, is a very good father. Of course, like every generation, they try not to do the things they didn't like about their upbringing. Our dad was a great role model, a man of his time.

Mom and Dad were lifelong lovers. He always boosted Mom and extended our respect of him to respecting her.

She and talked last week about the "out of the box" instructions Dad gave us, right to the end of his life. He never wanted her or his kids to be smaller than God made us. However, he never demanded that we be bigger than we could be.

He never compared us to others. He liked his three sons and me as people and was proud of us as his kids. The older I get, the more I realize what special gifts his advice and approval were.

Dad truly modeled meekness, the recognition of each person's importance in God's master plan. He wanted us to try everything we thought was interesting and find our unique place. "God made you the way you are for a reason," he'd say to my brothers and me. "Don't try to be someone else."

"You can always quit if you don't like it," he told us and his grandkids as we were applying for this and that job.

One summer, I got fired as a restaurant server. But that wasn't the defining experience for me. The firing is not what I remember. Rather, I will never forget my dad's response.

I had been working at a government rest-stop during the summer break and just hated it. I couldn't keep orders straight, chit-chatted too long with one table and gave the wrong order to another. The line cooks in the kitchen screamed at the servers when we asked for minor changes to the meals. I was surrounded by hung-over staff and isolated by my values and beliefs. I dreaded going to work and looked forward to my days off.

I drove the 2 hours home one day and surprised my parents, who asked, "Aren't you working today?"

"I just got fired." I was upset, considering a good cry. Dad took one look at me, stopped to listen to my sad tale, and said, "Well, I guess God didn't design you to be a waitress." Then he walked out of the room.

That was that. The weight of failure lifted off my shoulders. I never forgot his acceptance - or the freedom of quitting without his judgment or humiliation. (I also never forgot how many skills it takes to be a server. Yes, leave him/her a good tip!)

2. Hang around with people who value you, more than with people who keep trying to change you.

Dad told us over and over not to pay attention to those who tried to drag us down, belittle us, or lessen God's plans for us. I'd complain at the dinner table: "He told me I'm too bossy." Or, "She is jealous because I'm dating her cousin." Or, "So-and-so told me that X doesn't like me."

I could tell my parents anything. But the responses differed: sympathy from Mom, and something completely different from Dad.

"Big deal. What are you listening to them for?" he'd say if I repeated a snarky remark or verbal jab by a peer. "What does s/he know about anything? Has his/her family amounted to anything?" 

Sometimes he's say, "Well, are they right?" Either way, the conversation would be over as far as he was concerned. And I'd think, "Yup, a good way to think about it, Pop."

When one boss told me my ideas were stupid, my girlfriends reacted in horror. "How could he say that? Right to your face? Didn't you cry?" (Nope.) Dad's reaction to a slam was usually a shrug. "Was it [a bad idea]?" He was fair and kept knee-jerk reactions separate from competence and what we could learn from a situation.

(My response? Leave the office to think it over. Maybe my boss was in a lousy mood or needed more info. If it wasn't a good fit for his team, I wouldn't have their support. He could see that before I did so I never took the abruptness as a personal insult.)

Yet Dad never was rude. He never tore people down even when he told the truth. He taught us to take criticism as well as praise. Others' perceptions were just that: their view. But it was worth paying attention either way.

3. Failure is a great teacher, especially if you're creative, innovative, or doing something no one has yet tried.

Dad was a risk-taker. He loved trying new things. He learned to fly, to scuba-dive, to invest in others, and travel the world. He liked being on the ground floor when he could see potential, though he was quickly bored with management. He followed his interests and developed skills to be good at a lot of things, from sales, owning a steel works company, success in real estate, to repairing violins after retirement.

His trust didn't always pay off when he mixed business with friendship. Once or twice, "a friend" upended everything he'd worked for. He hated a lack of integrity or breaches of agreement, whether verbal or written. He would get out if someone was dishonest. His word was his bond even to his own hurt.

I remember him reflecting on a business crash when I asked if he was ok.

"Well, once a liar, always a liar," he said. "That friend wasn't trustworthy. I kept my part of the partnership but I should have realized sooner that he wasn't a good person." He had regrets about the harm caused to others, more than the dismantling of his own wealth. He moved on. But he didn't give that person a second chance. 

"You might learn the hard way, but you only have to learn it once," he told us. We watched and learned.

That was my dad. I miss his cheerleading. I miss his observations, especially because he often disagreed with me. "You don't have to agree, even though I'm right," he would say with a smile.

It's true. We didn't always come to the same conclusions with the same facts - but we'd listen and learn something new from each other. There were no hard feelings. The world was open to be explored. 

I really miss him, this Fathers Day weekend. I want to be his kind of encourager - that loving mentor - for the people in my life, too. "Thanks, Pop. Always loved, never forgotten."

A few questions I'm thinking about: 

• Who are you, really? (What makes your heart sing? What are you good at?)
• Who encourages you to live your life to the full?
• How can you surround yourself with more people like that?
• And - how can you be that encourager for others?

Read more:

*Woe to those who plan iniquity, because it is in their power to do it.  Micah 2:1 NIV

Jesus said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant. Matthew 20:25-26

Moravian Prayer: God of service, bless both the servants and those who consent to receive service from others, as both are needed to bring your kingdom to earth. Keep us humble in spirit and deed, and rule our lives with compassion. Amen.

3 things for you this week + a question: "Not what you think"

First a quote: 

The profusion of progress is on a collision course with human limits. Once the threshold of these limits is exceeded, overload replaces margin. ... On the unsaturated side of their limits, humans can be open and expansive. On the saturated side of these limits, however, the rules of life totally change. (Richard Swenson, Margin)

In other words, when you are in a healthy place, you can be creative and productive. Without boundaries, you will become exhausted and good-for-nothing. Drained. It's worth keeping that in mind.

Here are 3 things for the week, plus a question for you.

1. You're not as important as you think you are.

You'd think there's work only you can do. Not true! Others can step in to help and take over if you let them.

However, it is nice to have dogs who believe that you rule the planet. They eagerly await us each morning, ready to be petted as we open the drapes.

I'm recovering after being sick for over two weeks. I got chikungunya, a tropical fever gifted by mosquitoes. It's the first time we've had a tropical fever since we arrived in Indonesia 7 years ago. Our neighbors have been sick with it before and as they said, it is miserable. Headaches, stomach trouble, burning skin, aches, and fatigue. Our yard gets sprayed with a mist of diesel fuel to kill the adult mosquitoes.

Waldemar got dengue a week after I got sick. It has similar symptoms with more joint pain, high blood pressure, plunging platelets (thrombosis) ... but no burning palms. The fevers come from the same mosquito carriers. He's still under the weather while I'm getting back to normal. I skip the weekly forest walk, all high-energy activities, and do lots of household chores instead. (By Friday, W's platelet count is back to normal though he is still resting and feeling weak.)

Our friends sent food last weekend: gnocchi with pomodoro sauce, rice, guava, papaya, noodles ... it tasted so good. It was truly a gift to heat meals rather than starting from scratch. W has no appetite for Indonesian food at the moment so I'm mostly preparing Western recipes when I cook.

2. You can't plan the future, so live in the day.

Early in the week, our intern gets food poisoning from chicken bought at a local supermarket. She's out of commission for a few days. Miserable. She's so plucky though - there's no complaining. We admire her.

Many of our neighbors are doctors and researchers. One household gets COVID so they're in quarantine. The hospitals are full with a post-Ramadan surge - people went around the city and to their hometowns as soon as the travel restrictions were lifted, so there are a lot of COVID cases on Java Island. 

Our helpers get sick with fevers as well. We send them home from work with this mandate: "We will pay you if you rest. We're not giving you a wage if you just work at home." Tuesday's helper lasts 1/2 hour. Thursday, the other lasts a marginally longer. I take the laundry out of the washing machine after she leaves. I hang the bedding and W's washed clothes on the rooftop drying racks. (We don't have a drier.)

We're unexpectedly on our own. It's mostly blissfully quiet! other than conversations with the girls upstairs. I record a few weeks worth of videos and rewrite scripts for upcoming talks through mid-July. W is too sick to move most of the week. He works on BIC media between naps.

For one breakfast, I slice tiny roasted Japanese sweet potatoes and a banana, balancing the blandness with a splash of mango juice and plain yogurt. It's ugly but hits the spot.

I go into the office one day to work from my happy place on the balcony. But mostly I'm cooking and fetching guava juice or tea for Waldemar. 

Oh look! The Tuesday farmer has sent over beets with our vegetable order. Suddenly I'm hungry for European borscht. I fry diced onions and garlic, chop the cabbage, beets, and potatoes, and toss everything into a pot with a scoop of Costco's "Better than Beef" broth base and spices. After a few hours, it's ready to eat, with 4 bags frozen for future meals. This kind of soup gets more and more flavorful as it ages. I pull out a bag for a second meal later in the week. Yum.

There's no sour cream in the house and W wants sour cream with his borscht. I stir lime juice into plain yogurt and voila. Tastes good. (He doesn't even notice until I tell him a few days later.) We ignore the other condiments from across the globe: out stomachs are still touch-and-go.

3. No matter what is happening, you can be grateful for every mercy and take advantage of what's nearby.

I've been thinking about the blessing of living here without getting tropical fevers for so many years. That's amazing. And a gift from God.

As we regain strength, we start to pick up our tasks again. But we are taking it slowly, one day at a time. Living without margin doesn't allow you face challenges well.

This week, I attend three significant online meetings, mostly at night. One is on Soul Care for cross-cultural leaders. Another is a 3-part conference with a famous speaker. Both are well worth being there and I sleep in the next morning.

The third and most special meetup is with a dozen female leaders. We spend an hour-and-a-half learning and processing information together. Even at 2-3:30 a.m., it's life-giving to see the faces of women I care about and consider friends. I don't bother going back to sleep that morning. My head is full.

Dr I drops by with a papaya, soursop, guava, and some orchids to make the porch more beautiful. She's a specialist on orchids. The blooms are fragrant and delightful. The rain soaks them through.

Many afternoons and early evenings, the sky rumbles and growls with thunder before the sunshine disappears. Dry season is due but until it arrives, humid air blows clouds from Jakarta and the north Java coast across the mountain ranges to our city. The rain drops into the Bandung basin - there's been flooding off and on, enveloping homes in mud and garbage washed down the streets from higher elevations.

Gypsy hates the rumblings and loud bangs of the thunder. He has to be locked in the crate so he doesn't break a window trying to get into the house.

Friday

I haven't had a productive "homemaker-day" in ages. Today's the day.

It starts with a good walk around the block with one dog, the one who pulls least: Gypsy. I don't have energy to make the others mind. Who would have thought that the pup that pulled me off my feet on our first walk 5 years ago would be the most sanguine now? The two left behind wait at the gate for our return.

Outside, a new bloom on the bromeliad (1' long) glows red in the morning sunshine. What a beautiful way to start the day.

When I get into the house, I go into the kitchen. Today reminds me of raising 4 kids = cooking and more cooking. (No baking today, though.) W's off to a doctor's appointment.

My mom calls and a few others want to chat. It's a connected morning while W gets 2 blood tests done, 2 hours apart. He comes home after to await the second test result. He'll have one more appointment after this, we hope. Thank God, his thrombocytes are up almost to 300 from 90 (normal is 150-400). All the resting, along with the juice and vitamin-rich food he's being fed, is helping.

This morning, I browse YouTube to find out how to make guava juice and soursop juice. Oh oh, soursop is sure messy. After you peel the soft fruit, you have to strip the creamy white flesh of its poisonous black seeds. Then you blend in honey and water to your preferred consistency and taste. Into the fridge door it goes. Tastes great. But do I want someone else's "clean" hands taking the seeds out? I decide I'm probably not going to order it away from home. (There must be a more sanitary machine process, don't you think?)

Whaaat?! there's still a half-head of cabbage in the fridge. I fry it with onions, garlic, and butter, to be eaten with lunch noodles. The leftovers are bagged for the freezer. Looks bland. Tastes great.

We finished a jar of pickles yesterday so I cut up fresh mushrooms and squish them into the jar. They shrink after a few hours. Later in the afternoon I add more mushroom to the brine. (W likes pickled mushrooms.)

The fridge is still full of vegetables and I'm on a roll. In 1/4 c olive oil, I fry mushrooms, a diced onion, and whole garlic head while charring and peeling the last of the eggplants. That's blended together with a scoop of peanut butter (no tahini at hand), salt, and smokey paprika into baba ganoush. Finally, I cut carrots, beans, and celery into crudités to be eaten with the eggplant dip. I tuck the morning's work into the fridge. Whew - it's full of healthy foods.

Today's apparently a creating day. I'm actually in the mood to move furniture. That means I'm definitely feeling energized. But with PakGum driving W to the doc and everyone else sick, moving is out of the question. Maybe that's where the swoop of cooking-energy came from. Blocked in one direction? Go another.

Might as well tackle one more 5-10 minute chore: cutting my hair. The 1" chop feels good. In the time that it takes to drive to a hairdresser, I'm done and the bathroom is tidied. One side curls higher than the other; I'll check it again in a week.

Afterward, there's even enough water and water pressure for a shower ... without putting on the water pump! Bonus.

Saturday

We do the mile-long loop around the neighborhood together, dogs and humans. I make breakfast pancakes to celebrate before W's off to see his doc and find out what's what. It's overcast and cool (72o), so I'm wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt. Brrr. 

Question: how has the past week confirmed that life can't be controlled. What's been unexpected, whether wonderful or hard? And in what ways have you dealt with life's surprises? (Are you happy with your responses?)

Read more:

*Blessed be God, because he has not rejected my prayer or removed his steadfast love from me. Psalm 66:20

*This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls." Jeremiah 6:16

*See, I have taken your guilt away from you, and I will clothe you in festal apparel. Zechariah 3:4

*By grace you have been saved. Ephesians 2:5

*Devote yourselves to prayer, keeping alert in it with thanksgiving. Colossians 4:2

Moravian Prayer: God of devotion, we thank you for hearing our prayers and granting us peace. Help us to remember to come simply to you in prayer and to patiently wait to hear your still, small voice. 

Saving Lord, draw from us our guilt and doubt like poison from a wound, and cover us with grace and mercy. All glory and praise to you, O God! Amen.

3 things for you this week +1 "It's a stretch"

 Here are 3 things for you from this week, plus one. But first, a quote.

Just say no" is bad productivity advice. ... Whether at home or at work, when we have clear expectations based on how we intend to spend our time, we can fulfill our obligations to others and to ourselves. Nir Eyal (Read more here.)

1. A stretch does you good.

When the dogs greet me each morning, they stretch their bodies. Even before I open the door, they're ready to go. They expect a few walks a day. Without dogs, I'm not sure I'd walk as much as I do. Their expectations stretch me and start my day off right. This week, I walk only a few times ... one loop (a mile) rather than 2 or more. I take a week off, then slowly start to toddle around the neighborhood as strength returns.

Waldemar's caught whatever I had last week, along with the fatigue, crushing headaches, stomachaches (though he can eat, which I couldn't), and muscle pains. Our doctor friends persuade him to take himself to the hospital. We figure he can get tested for both of us since we have the same thing. And who knows how much it will cost? His fever breaks while he's there. After innumerable tests, medicine, and 7 hours in hospital ($2.50 for all) , he comes home and falls into bed.

He starts to feel better almost right away. Maybe knowing what we have helps. He's much better by week's end. There was no walk in the mountains this week: too many walkers are ill. Several of our acquaintances have been in contact with Covid.

Turns out we have dengue fever. My skin is itchy and feels raw wherever I scratch, even after 2 weeks. For a few days, my hands and feet burned as though they were on fire - a symptom W missed in exchange for joint pains.

A friend - who previously had dengue - warns us that relapses are common. "Just take it easy," she says. Okay. Will do.

Last week, just after I got sick, we recorded 2 Sunday talks at once, one for this week and one for the next.

God knows how to prepare us for rest, doesn't he. At the time, I was sick as a dog, my head pounding and my hands burning. I barely made the walk to the office. Maybe I didn't speak with any energy or conviction. But having this week done means we get a break from recording. (W is still helping with media edits.)

At noon-time Friday, I sit on the porch with waves of chanting around us. Friday noon involves at least a half-hour of voices - sermons, ritual prayers, Islamic readings - called from every mosque and pesantran (Islamic boarding school). Since we live on a hill, I can identify at least half-a-dozen high to low pitches. Many are at peak volume. The buzz of many more from every neighborhood underlies those. We're used to that rhythm of the week after almost seven years here. 

The tokay! tokay! of the lizard punctuates the lectures. He's got to be a big one, judging by his voice. he lives somewhere in the garden. We hear him most nights but he's been noisy during the day this week, too. (stock photo)

2. Friends are there to stretch you, too. 

When Gail Johnson was writing All There, I didn't have time or capacity for edits. But because she's my friend, I did them anyway. She was kind enough to give me a copy of her book, which I'm plowing through, slowly and thoughtfully. The stretch before is rewarded by the stretch and ease to my soul now.

I'd agree with Nir's quote above: don't automatically say no when you think you're at capacity. 

What could you shift to do real and important work? What can you lay aside to do something more lasting and impactful? In my case, I wrote a talk in advance and asked W to record 2 weeks at a time. He agreed. Did I feel like it at the time? Nope. But I've learned that the prompt in your head is the best direction for the future. What could you do today that would give you a breather another day?

3. Share what you have - or stretch your resources - to bless others. 

Be open to unexpected gifts once you start saying yes, too. We met with a friend a few weeks ago. Danny is interested in environmental issues and community service. He's combined the two by turning his property into an organic center, teaching students and tourists about earth care. His farm has a small aquaponic grow operation. We're the happy recipients of fresh produce every week.

Along the way, two neighbors are enjoying the same: when our driver gets our vegetables (and every second week, fresh tilapia), he picks theirs up, too.

Our fridge is full of abundance, which we share whenever we can. Besides bubur ayam (chicken porridge) which is great for the stomach, the freshly washed vegetables make me happy. I tuck snap pea sprouts, kale, or other greens under every scoop of rice and into every bowl of soup. At the back of the fridge shelf, ancient Tupperware boxes full of cookies are stacked high. Laurel and I enjoy those when we need a taste of sweetness.

Veronica brings tomatoes and a cabbage to our place. Suddenly, I'm craving cabbage rolls.

I print out a recipe and send a link for the video instructions to the lady who cooks for us twice a week. She works her magic; my craving is satisfied. Her cabbage rolls are spicier than those my mom and I make, but I am open to new flavors ... especially when I don't have to boil or roll the cabbage leaves. I'll modify the spices next time and double the amount of rice. I suspect that she used pre-cooked rice (nasi) instead of raw kernels (beras, which plumps up 3X the size in cooking.)

Lo and behold, the same cooking genie has transformed 3 old bananas into 3 warm banana breads. They're sitting on the counter when I get home from the office. Delicious. I don't have to think about breakfast all week as I recover, between the banana bread and bubur ayam.

Ruth, who stays at our place this week with her friend Melvina, has brought me a special gift. She hands it over as we sit on the office porch. Her dad's a painter and his tulip study is a delight. The vibrant colors are an immediate "pick-me-up." My friends knows how much I love artwork. Isn't this beautiful?

I miss tulips in Indonesia. What's exotic in one place grows naturally in others. I've never seen a tulip here - but they are common on the West Coast where we grew up.

As we relax together, I'm reminded again how rich life is because of those who pass through it. It was W's birthday on Saturday, and I ran around trying to make it special and care for him. He got tested again (2nd round) for dengue and his platelet count had dropped again. Rest. And vitamins through guava juice. That was the prescription. DrH sends W some tasty Chinese noodles, a traditional birthday food - enough for all 4 of us, upstairs and down. Veronica sends eggplants - so I make a big pot of baba ganoush, one of my new favorites. I have to freeze it - we have too much food in the fridge.

All day Sunday, we arest. We hand over The Conversation to Sam, Liana, and Josh. W's dizzy reading messages so he stays off media, like I did last week. The media team goes above and beyond to make sure the Gathering of BICOnline runs smoothly.

Our friends send food. So much food. All weekend, we're hungry - our appetites are coming back. I get one picture ... of one of the boxes. Otherwise, we just eat. Udon noodles, date honey, and juice from Sayaka, Martin, and Harun. Noodles and broth from Della. So good. We share with our gals upstairs; and W sighs with satisfaction as the meals are served to him in bed. DrW sends a shepherd's pie made with fish and a cake. I put Claudia's gnocchi into the freezer for tomorrow - but her guava fruits scent the whole kitchen.

There's something about an abundance of food that makes people feel loved. W and I are far from our own families. I say a heartfelt thank you to God for such friends on a weekend that could have felt lonely and exhausting. Instead, we feel cherished. Cared for. Thanks, to each one of you!

Who around you has made your life better? Why not say thank you to them today? Send an email, a text, pick up the phone ... or be really radical and write them a thank you note.

Today is a new day. Who is waiting for your attention? Stretch yourself to make them feel welcome and special. Even if it's just a pat on the head for your faithful pets ... open that sliding door already.

Read more: 

*The Lord said, “I will appoint peace as your overseer and righteousness as your taskmaster.”  Isaiah 60:17

*You, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love to all who call on you. Psalm 86:5

*Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray.” Luke 11:1

*The kingdom of God is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Romans 14:17

Moravian Prayer: Merciful Lord, you know everything, even if we don’t bring our troubles to you. Teach us anew how to pray. Give us the courage to address you daily. Forgive us our sins and never leave us. In your son’s name, we pray.

Gracious God, in a world that tries to sell the belief that kindness and love are weak and get exploited, help us to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly in your footsteps. Amen.