Awash in flowers, including cloves and more cloves

 Monday, September 18, 2023

Theoretically Mondays are my day off. The plan is read and review 10 books (= relaxing), look at a syllabus for a January class, and write next Sunday's talk. That is a restful but energizing pace for a writer. No early morning meetings are planned today ... which means it is a day off, right? 

I admire the golden papaya flowers - we'll eat them later this week, bitter but full of flavor.

A cup of Earl Grey tea, a porch view, and a walk. That all it takes for a good start to the week in dry season. Year-round temperatures don't vary much in Bandung. In dry season, it can be 5o cooler at night and 5o warmer during the day. Generally that means 65 - 85F (18 - 30C).

Our longest days have about 1/2 hour more of daylight than the shortest ones. Between, we can count on 6am-6pm for sunrise-sunset. It's a healthy rhythm of life.

I slide open the old teak-rimmed sliding doors. This house was built in the 1970s. W makes needed repairs and upgrades to appliances and systems. The concrete pillars and old stone floors are still solid. We watch for termites in a constant battle to keep them from eating the house: ceilings, floors, walls, doors, and window frames.

After lunch we shop for bolts to mount a TV in a stand in the kids' classroom. We buy 12 colorful little chairs. W finds the camera lens he's been holding out for at the second camera store. And we buy snacks for our friends on an upcoming trip. I haven't shopped for gifts at all.

On the way home, we stop by the GG classroom to drop off the new chairs. We bring home the little beanbags we got for the kids. They'll have to sit on chairs because the younger boys have been pummeling each other with the beanbags. Smack. Smack. (Gone!)

It's late afternoon when we get home. I put off writing the syllabus and don't get to Sunday's talk. Maybe tomorrow.

 

Tuesday

After our walk with the dogs, we return them to the yard. From my office drawer, I grab a hammer, concrete nails, masking tape (to prevent the wall's plaster from sloughing off in chunks), a measuring tape, and a level. I love knowing where my tools are. (That makes them useful.) W brings his drill and drill bits to pre-drill the nail holes. 

W and I walk back up the hill to the hall. The prayer room has been a work in process. Someone gave us a set of 2 scripture verses. W holds them up while I decide where to hang them.

He marks the positions with masking tape, drills the holes through the tape, and then hammers in the nails. Soon the verses are mounted.

We hang strings and clothespins from a branch for clipping up prayer requests. He mounts a mirror on the opposite wall. We'll etch "His Beloved" on the mirror. When someone is curious and opens the decorative doors, they'll see their face and the reminder that God loves them.

We've been dancing around that recessed top stair. (See the hole on the right, above?) It's an odd-shaped cutout in the floor because of how the railings were placed. With a small misstep, you could plunge down the circular metal stairs to the storage basement. (Help!)

Chandra is a craftsman and woodworker. I ask if he can build a removable box to bring the top of the stairwell up to floor level.

He says, "Sure." Chandra built the beautiful and functional portable stage and an accessibility ramp for the hall a few years ago. They've held up well.

I get home in time for a monthly meeting with Nancy, a therapist who asks provocative questions and offers ideas to ponder. As I debrief with her what's been happening, she steers my heart in good directions. She's God's precious gift to me.

Then I prepare for Ibu S, who comes to give me a massage each month. "Wow, what's the matter today?" she asks. "You're all wound up."

We've had a lot of irons in the fire. She anchors me in one place on the floor every month. While she's working, I  listen to a difficult book on leadership, counseling, ministry, or other topics. I have a hard time sitting still long enough to get through these textbooks. Thus the massage serves two important functions: one for the body and one for the mind.

Today's book will be published soon. I need the information. The Minister as Moral Theologian by Sondra Wheeler looks at the ethical influence and guidance offered by pastors and religious workers. I can highly recommend it to my seminary students and co-workers.

She starts grinding away on my feet. I set my timer for 2 hours. When it goes off, the masseuse is 3/4 of the way done but we quit. It's past lunch time and I missed breakfast.

There's just enough time once W and I eat to sort out the helpers' instructions. The tukang (handyman) has arrived to trim 2 clove trees. First, someone agreed to prune the tree harvest the cloves for $7. They're dried and sold in the market. Then they change their mind. There are probably 8 bushels of cloves on the trees. "Not worth the work."

The next negotiation is that we'll pay $22 to have someone prune the trees. They'll leave the cloves for us and our helpers. Now the person who cut the trees wants pay and the cloves? What? It's typical of the ongoing conversation, even after you think things are settled. Even Indonesians don't always communicate  to each other clearly.

After an online team meeting, in late afternoon when the workers have gone home, I wander into the garden to see the level of destruction. Above our heads, new avocados are starting to emerge.

The backyard is strewn with branches.

The leaves and cloves quickly start to wilt in the heat of dry season.

Clove flowers are complex and pretty. As they dry, the color fades into the brown cloves we use for cooking and baking.

There's a bag of flowers on the Porch table. There will be sacks of these tomorrow, when it's all hands on deck to pluck the flowers from the downed branches.

W heads to town for more documents for our visas. Then he spends a few hours on a final revision of Vol 3, getting my book into paperback. I did my final edit Saturday with few changes. However, to W's frustration, the formatting has shifted (AGAIN! - wow Kindle Publishing, you're useful but finicky and inefficient.) I'd never get this done without W's help.

Wednesday

We walk the dogs and see that another neighbor has died. Flower boards line the yard. Yellow flags mark parking at the house and across the street.

A publisher has offered me two books - a textual commentary on the Pastoral Epistles by Stanley Porter, published last year, and Charismatic Christianity by Helen Collins which will be published next week. I'm usually more of a skimmer than a deep-dive reader. But I've been searching for textbooks for upcoming courses. If I played the game, I'd say "BINGO!" on these two. I highly recommend both.

It's another day of harvesting cloves in the garden. We pass along bags of the flowers to neighbors and friends.

It's Chacha's birthday but she's still in Jakarta so I can't treat her to lunch. I've been wondering about a gift?. Oh wait, she's asked about a silk bouquet for her new salon. Don't we have some flowers upstairs in a storage bin? This arrangement practically makes itself. It's feminine and a bit wild like Chacha herself. When the dried dill flowers get too messy, she can yank them out and enjoy what's left.

Finally I get around to Sunday's IES Bandung talk. W has to read and edit it before we go through it again together.

Read more:

*Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. Psalm 62:8

*Now during those days Jesus went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God. Luke 6:12

Moravian Prayer: Eternal Refuge, our trust in you is strengthened when we bring everything in our lives to you in prayer. Please encourage us, welcome us, hear us when we come to you, in whatever state of being we find ourselves. Amen.