Saturday, January 27, 2024
It's a quiet day. Many Saturdays, W's self-care is exploring Bandung. He likes being among people, riding the angkot busses, studying scripture over lunch with friends, and walking miles.
In contrast, my Sabbath is staying home with no schedule but my own. No helpers to assign chores. No one expecting meals at a certain time. No one asking questions. I usually read, rest, and do something creative - and I write. (I always write.)
The wind picks up as the weather changes: the Bali beachgrass chimes sing cheerfully as the breeze sweeps across the mountain slopes. Gypsy tries all the door handles to see if he can sneak inside, away from the storm. If he can, we find him under the back staircase, in our shower, or under a desk. It's like he read and adapted an earthquake safety manual.
Today, I'm flashing hot and cold as Covid begins to relinquish its grip. At noon, my appetite is coming back. I enjoy the pho W ordered yesterday. The broth soothes the throat. I taste the salt and not much else yet.
Lunch generates enough brain power to edit an academic paper for W. Then I walks around the yard to make sure all is ready for tomorrow's Hangout. The tropical fish snap up the food pellets tossed into the ponds (repurposed antique flowerpots.)
With daily rainfall, the plants rocket upwards. It's a gardener's Eden during this season, when hot sunshine also peeks through the clouds nearly every day. The flowering papaya tree is ready for picking.
There's a burst of color: pinks, purples, and yellows edge the Porch.
Across the lawn, 8'/2.5m -tall yellow blooms climb toward the sun. They self-seed among the false bird-of-paradise, roses, and herbs.
In contrast, these delicate white flowers peek through the coleus. I use their tiny pops of white in lieu of baby's breath in arrangements.
Even the aquarium plants are going wild in the humidity. (Scale: the glass is 15" tall.)
The ants aren't shy about working either. Their mounds look like poop all across the lawn. We let the rain beat the soil back down.
You know who has the gift of care when you receive a basket like this. Thanks, Sayaka and family. I manage a delicious pear with yogurt for supper.
Night descends quietly on the Porch at 6:00 - sundown.
Sunday
And before you know it, the sun's up again. Soft light bathes the reading nook. How I'd like to be with the IES Bandung family. Not today. My chair is ready to watch the Gathering online.
First, I make one last round of the yard and clip a few flowers. Today was my turn to arrange hall flowers so I sent a silk/dry grass arrangement ahead of time. This bouquet is for the house: after being inside most of the week, I need some color. The cuttings are submerged to hydrate and drown caterpillars and ants. The bouquet starts to find its shape with green coleus.
The yellows still look wilted when I place the arrangement in the entry, but the leaves and flower heads will revive within the hour as they drink and settle in.
Living things are amazing! I give it a quick turn to put the perked-up fronds on the side rather than front and center.
How odd to watch the Gathering online. Don't get me wrong: I am grateful for technology. However, it's not the same as meeting in person. You can't shake hands with those who are grateful for the week's blessings or hug those who need prayer. Sometimes they are the same people.
The congregation prays over Martin, joining the team at IES Bandung with the unique calling God has put on his heart. He reads the scriptures this morning.
We pray over Rob and Wina who have served with us since they landed in Bandung a year ago. What a help they have been to us. They now transition to full-time work in a global organization. We'll miss them! and their cheerful attitudes.
The Hangout crowd meets on the Porch for the first time this year. What a treat to hear their muffled conversation and laughter from my perch inside.
Their lunch is the same as ours: Hanemum takeaway: Korean-ish deep-fried sesame chicken and rice. I peel off as much of the fried coating as I can, manage some rice, and feel sleepy.
As I age, my tastebuds are becoming more and more like Dad's were. A 'little sweet' after a meal feels like a necessity rather than an option. A thoughtful soul sends this treat home with W. Perfect. He takes a few mango slices before handing me the packet. I LOVE Philipino dried mangoes, the sweetest in the world. (Perhaps it helps that mangoes are my favorite fruit.)
By late afternoon, the Porch is empty. Various windchimes swing in the breeze. Branches lift and dip. I've been drawn to plants since I was a toddler, says Mom. Here, the leaves - from the 6'/2m elephant ear plants to tiny spiky leaves on a shrub, would be enough to fascinate me. (Flowers are bonuses.)
The spindly Benjamina potted plant that kept dropping its leaves on the Porch? In 4 years since its transplant into the garden, it has swelled into a huge tree. We planted it 6'/2m from the wall so its roots wouldn't disturb the wall. I'm not sure that was far enough.
"Why did you plant that in a garden?" our friends ask. Because it's ubiquitous in indoor public spaces in Seattle? Keeping one alive there made me happy? I can't remember. It was miserable in its pot.
In our Bandung garden, we hack trees back when they're wide enough to shade the flowerbeds underneath. We prune when branches begins to hang over the 10' green wall into the neighbor's yard or get tall enough to shade the neighbor's patch, since they love to garden. It's time to do that again!
(In Seattle, our former neighbor got angry and maliciously planted a tall hedge to block the view and only southern exposure on our acre. The fruit trees we espaliered against the southern wall of the house never bear fruit in the shade. So we have sympathy for those living beside us now.)
For a few weeks, there's been a lot of banging going on next door. We hear the crashing of hammers from their other side of the shared wall. Today drills or sanders are whirring. Last week, our neighbors tolerated our handymen repairing the gutters, too. So we can't complain.
The tropics are hard on houses. Like our old house, theirs must need a major fix every few months. Everyone's up before sunrise in this neighborhood of mostly old people. We allow no construction noise before 7:00 a.m. but based on the enthusiasm coming our way shortly after 6:00 some days, it depends on when one's work crew arrives. We're mutually relieved when repairs are completed.
Monday
Misery of cold sweats, so I rest. No work. I venture outside to feed the fish and admire the vine torn off a neighbor's overhanging greenery a year or two ago. It has finally bloomed in a 8" pot on the driveway curb.
Tuesday
I eat a big spoon of overnight oats on a chopped apple and am not hungry until supper. Enough fooling around. The usual to-do list has grown too long to ignore. 2 calls. 2 newsletters to write. Student papers to grade. A team meeting to lead. Nap. Show the yardman which trees need severe cutting back. Check on a friend. Pass along a to-do for hall display.
We're saying our team farewell to Rob and Wina, who have blessed us and many others the past year.
For supper, W orders pho - beef soup with vermicelli. That's enough. The evening Covid test makes me happy: the "positive" line is very faint. Almost there! And my checklist is finished, along with a slew of messages flying in and out. The clouds roll in as night approaches.
*God said to Solomon, “Because you have not asked for yourself long life or riches or for the life of your enemies but have asked for yourself understanding to discern what is right, I now do according to your word.” 1 Kings 3:11-12*Paul wrote: Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of the mind, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:2
Moravian Prayer: Does it humor you, our patient God, when we think we know it all, only to realize we don’t know as much as we thought? Help us to recognize the limits of our knowledge and abilities, and trust your wisdom. Amen.
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