I miss the Thursday walk after being up most of the night: 11-4:15 (last clock check-in). I just couldn't sleep, despite go-tos that usually make me sleepy. Listened to Isaiah 44-66 with a few repeats. Read a novel. Lay quietly for an hour. Nada.
Oh well. Unexpected workdays are most productive because you jam them full of "what I didn't have time for." So I get lots done.
One strange thing we see this week is the truck being loaded with chairs. Three men are loading them onto a little pickup from a garage.
W takes the dogs on the walk. He comes back while I'm making pastoral calls. For the most part after he gets home, we have a quiet afternoon. I'm sleepy by 6pm and fall fast asleep, getting 10 hours of catch-up. 4am feels like mid-morning when you're rested.
Friday, January 21, 2022
Angela and I start our walk from her house. We go up and down through very narrow lanes and "main thoroughfares" like the one below. She knows all the twists and turns - we mask when there are people nearby and unmask while the wind blows in deserted stretches. It's hot and sunny. I'm happy to be wearing my hat.
The contrast between rich and poor are side by side. There's much to pray about as we walk. Provision. Protection. Help. Resources. Health. One family has patched their roof with tin a few times and is drying rice beside the ceiling tiles stacked along the lane.
Another area is brimming with plants in pots. They soften the hard concrete walls and asphalt paving. This 6" fragrant flower opens only at night. I can only imagine the scent ...
The "feathery tassel" shrub looks very happy.
We peek around the fence into a lot with a fishpond and new-kind-to-me ducks walking around.
Someone is hunting birds in a vacant lot. It has some kind of silencer at the tip. He carefully doesn't look our way so Angela can't chide him.
Typically for neighborhoods, this one has an islamic graveyard, with headstones oriented toward Mecca.
Coming into our yard, I pluck an orchid stem from along the driveway and pop it into a bud vase. SaturdayW's at 3 meetings, which leaves me to set a pause on the week. I slept roughly again last night. Probably am burned out decision-making that never comes to pass and the constant revision of plans. You can't go forward with any certainty and I find that wearying.
Meanwhile, something has died in one of the fish pots - did a snail fall in and rot? It sure stinks and there's scum on the surface. I change as much of the water as I can, but the fish are dead. Almost no water from the city comes through the hose. While the tadpoles continue to thrive, the dead fish become fertilizer for the garden.
After a walk, I stroll the yard. The coffee Jez planted before he moved is full of berries. Maybe W can do something with them. He's the coffee drinker at our house. Fragrant in brewing, but foul on the breath and a mess during cleanup, I'm no fan of the brown infusion.
Inside again, I make tea. And I am hungry for crepes. Our recipe is easy. I flip between two small pans to speed up the cooking process and refrigerate the extras for supper.
- Beat 4 eggs into 1.5 c milk and 1 tbsp melted butter. (1/2 tsp vanilla, optional)
- Stir 1 c flour, a pinch of salt, and 2-3 tbsp sugar in a medium-sized bowl.
- Pour the liquids over the flour and whisk until almost smooth.
- Heat a saucepan on high, add oil and/or butter, and turn heat down to medium high. Quickly swish +1/4 c batter around the pan.
- Cook until the top is no longer wet, then tip the pan upside down over a plate. [Loosen a corner of the first few crepes to help them peel easily off the pan.]
- Repeat. Next one, coming up.
W sets up breakfast dishes on the porch, which means wiping up the table before our friends arrive. It's a scurry to clean up outside, wash dishes in the kitchen, and make tea. I cut pumpkin pie and brownies onto a plate, and warm up IbuA's berry cobbler. W wants to make sure he has cobbler, so I scoop some into a plate for him. Last minute, I change out of walking clothes.
Everything is sorted by 8:45 so we can relax. What a wonderful time with those who join us for a watch party. (That is a small group gathered to view BIC Online.) After, we share everyone's takeaways and pray together.
Brunch is nearby. Maxi's Resto is hosting a wedding. The place is full and there's a good band playing love songs.
"Are you ok with upstairs?" asks the hostess. Sure. They seat us on top of the parking lot: when Maxi's outgrew their venue, they just added another layer. It's breezy and safe to be together, spaced out on the outdoor terrace.
We share good food and conversation.
On the way back, I spot this lemongrass. Plants get chopped back in brutal fashion. With hot sun, volcanic soil, and lots of water, they grow back in no time.
In the evening, I use up the last of the
nasi goring (fried rice), wrapping it inside this morning's crepes. Hits the spot with its savory taste moderated by a hint of sweet.
We harvested the first papaya from the backyard, so I cut that up. I head for the lemon tree and grab a fruit. Papaya tastes so bland - until lemon juice is squeezed over. Last minute, W sees my plate decides he wants papaya, too. (His immediate no is not always his final word.) We split the papaya already on my plate. He makes himself ramen as a main course.
MondayThe bromeliads beside the porch are hatching their tiny blooms. So lively a combination of colors. After another lousy night, they refresh my soul.
We record next week's talk in the garden as flies and bees buzz around our heads. I head for the office when we wrap up.
My office terrace view has changed from coleus plants - worm-eaten and shedding leaves like mad - to
boat lily or "Moses-in-the-cradle." The green leaves are underlaid with purple. The plants multiply quickly. A few months ago, I plucked a few from a pot and stuck them beside the fading coleus. Those rooted and have taken off. They're pretty and low maintenance. (Probably considered a weed somewhere else.)
Behind my porch desk, see the empty pot? A lone stem of a coleus is all that's left after mildew, little caterpillars, and nature do their damage.
The Nicotiana seeds gleaned from the roadside sprouted and are bursting with pink and white flowers. I pluck the seeds every few mornings and put them into the pots again. Within weeks, they've generated new plants. The banana plants and blooming hedge thrive without intervention. The ruffly cypress tree was the cost of a small flower arrangement ($20?) but makes me smile every time I work out here.
We have lunch out with a friend, meeting his new wife for the first time. Back to home in mid-afternoon, it's time to work on agendas, writing, and more.
Read more:
*Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Psalm 19:14
*I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have being. Psalm 104:33
*Are any among you suffering? They should pray. Are any cheerful? They should sing songs of praise. James 5:13
Moravian Prayer: Gracious God, our days are filled with joys and sorrows. Sometimes, we may find it difficult to speak the right words, but you have given us song and music when words are insufficient. May we always sing of your goodness. Amen.
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