A few days on the messy side

Saturday, March 21, 2024

We have major leaf drops during dry seasons. It looks like autumn but feels like summer. Perfect.

Sometimes we can't believe we are sitting outside in March, eating in the shade of a tree (because otherwise it's too warm.) We cross the street to #Nanny's Pavilon.

I order pasta, chicken, mushrooms, and pesto for $4.25. "Welcome home," shouts the chef from the open kitchen. They've delivered meals across the street to our house when guests have ordered from them.

The strip lights W installed yesterday have bonded to the shelf. They're just the right brightness - without shadows - to see everything I need at my desk. I'll be able to sew without constantly adjusting lights or pulling fabric around table lamps.

Before Christmas, we hired someone to do some lettering at IES Bandung. That didn't work out; he never came. So today I take a 1" (2.2cm) construction brush and a can of oil paint to free-write the words. I step back between letters since I haven't bothered with lines or a size template. Are the words evenly spaced? Sort of. It looks like a Grade 1 printing lesson.

These four words define our mission at IES Bandung. I reach for the highest letters from a stepstool, and the lowest ones are just above my head. I debate if there needs to be a "We ... " at the top.  I would need a tall ladder to go higher. Also, does it need that comma after "Grow?" I left off the Oxford comma because I was spacing from right to left ; would it crowd the ampersand? 

I decide, nope to the pronoun and the comma, and we pack up. I take a quick photo so that I can adjust and correct it next week if it bothers me enough. 

I brought a raincoat along after W said, "You're not painting in that, are you?" looking at my regular clothes. "You know you're going to be full of paint." I usually am, but painting letters? It's not like I'm painting a whole wall. There's not even a drop on me. The raincoat stays in the bag.

W tosses the paintbrush away and lifts a few drops off the floor from the first letters. I had to adjust the amount of paint for the slope of the brush since I was painting from underneath.

I ghost-write a letter for a leadership team and send it off, set out things for tomorrow, and call it a day.

Sunday
It's our final "ordinary" Sunday as IC leaders. 

We take it all in: the prayer before the Gathering, the time of worship, the scripture readings, the talk, the baptism ... It is a precious time to remember how blessed we have been to serve with these people. Our last week will be a celebration of our time together.

Titik's flowers take my breath away again.

The bouquet makes our whole place look better.

We enjoy a good lunch at Homeground, sneak-paid by Kyle, brother of Kylie (who was baptized). On the walk after, we spot these beautiful flowers opening at the side of the road.

W and I putter at home, and before we know it, it's nighttime.

Monday
I don't get a call through to Mom but Kirsten and I talk for a long time. Then I get to meet with Kim online. So lifegiving...

At 8AM, I return to editing my article. My, this has dragged on, been revised and procrastinated -- but it is finally done. I'll leave it to percolate overnight, give it one more look, and send it off. First, the third refill of my tea mug. Thinking makes me thirsty.

I write a FutureMe letter (to be read in a year) about current events. It also looks back at the goodness of God over the past years. I don't want to forget his faithfulness. Ever.

Anna sends over the MOST delicious hot cross buns from #MomsBakery, which we enjoy for lunch and supper.

In late afternoon, we take all the canines for a walk. Most Muslims here are terrified of dogs. Not these 4! They pet the dogs and ask where we're going. "For a walk," we say. They tell us they are walking the dogs with us. I ask them to get their mom's permission. "No worries, we may come with you," they gleefully shout. 

Accompanied by shrieking and jubilant voices all the way, they alternate #1, #2, #3, and #4 walkers. I point out little landmarks where they can trade places. They pass it along or gaily laugh as they drop the leash so the next person has to scramble and pounce on it before the old dogs get away.  Little rascals. What fun. They smell the gardenia blooms with us and make appropriate noises: mmmmmm, enak.

"Can we walk Anton, too?" (Um, nope - though he is so distracted by their hopping, petting, and shouting that he misses two chances to lunge at a cat.) We laugh at the kids' antics. It takes us over an hour to do the 30-minute loop. Several of the kids are learning English here on Saturdays so they shout their 1, 2, 3 ... up to 10. The program is paused for the end of Ramadan but resumes in April.

It's 5:30 before we come in the gate. The dogs will sleep well tonight. They are worn out when we get home. I write the monthly newsletter to partners, finish writing, and then W and I gratefully prepare for a good night's rest.

Read more:

* When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the LORD your God. Deuteronomy 8:10

* Then I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. Jeremiah 23:3

* [Jesus said,} I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. John 10:10

* Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! 2 Corinthians 9:15

Moravian Prayer: God of the beginning and of the end, you hold every part of our lives in your hands. Wherever we are on our walk of life, we dedicate it to your service. We place our trust in you and you alone. 

In Lent, we reflect on your love for us, eternal Caregiver. You have given so much to our lives and continue to provide daily for our existence. We pause now and say, “Thank you.” Amen.

Lenten reflections continue at the end of Ramadan

Wednesday, March 18, 2026

One of the most life-giving things I do is participate in a mastermind for leaders. Today, we share good counsel and I get great advice. W walks the dogs while I'm on the call. 

I finish the last page of my "personal growth" notebook in which I record meetings like this. It goes on the shelf with dozens of other journals in every shape and size. If a writer is defined by writing, I'm a writer. There are travelogues, art journals, annotated calendars, book reviews, and personal diaries. I choose the next notebook for personal meetings and set it aside.

In an almost-full dot-grid notebook, I draw up a week of minimalist journaling, something I do periodically to track transitions. Each day's square is labeled with the day of the week and the day of my life (#255-- today). I record meetings, highlights, weather, exercise, food, weight, reading and studies, writing, and more. You can customize what you put in, but this is the founder's suggestion:

Later, a scan of the page will offer the whole week in review. The last entries are from a year ago. I look back at its dinners and meetings, anticipation of Anton's arrival on April 10 (2025), junk food and good meals, our team's progress, and weather that is similar to today. We hadn't signed a caretaker contract for the house we're living in. We were walking 9-11,000 steps a day and I weighed 3 kg more. A blink of time caught on one page, a week captured.

I led IESBandung for 7 1/2 years, with W as my wingman. Both of us want to finish well. We juggle the remaining weeks with a hard deadline of disengagement. We're wrapping up so we can also move into the next season. I sign off for an intern for next year, confirm videos, readings, and events, and schedule speakers for a few months after we leave. W and I discuss a possible trip to support a close family member who will have surgery.

W has begun mapping out the year ahead: travels, teaching, and what else comes next. First, we need rest and rejuvenation. For W, that looks like a blur of exploration and activity. For me, it means choosing a few novels to read and packing enough art supplies to process the transition between what's just happened and what is coming. Jumping in with both feet after sustained efforts does no one good.

We warm up burritos from the student food court for lunch. For side dishes, I grate cucumbers and cook pear-shaped green vegetables (chayote) with various spices we rarely use, just for the fun of the taste. Not bad. The view is excellent. The 9' (3m) shrub has put out another batch of one-day pink flowers.

The clouds blow over the city; by 4PM we turn on the lights in the house. At 4:30 it is as dark as bedtime. The rain begins to patter as Juno and I walk the neighborhood to get in at least a miserable 4000 steps. I pull shut the curtains, heat up leftovers for supper, and am in bed reading by early evening.

A new pre-sleep habit is playing one piece a night on the keyboard, hoping to improve sightreading and flexibility. I used to take those for granted, playing as naturally as breathing. It's been decades since I performed regularly so my coordination and instinctive reach have deteriorated. I improvise easily, but even that has become simpler as technique and speed atrophy.

It takes all the pressure off to read through one solo arrangement per night. After, I click off the machine, remove the headphones, and pull a dust cover over the keys. A full basket of new music waits to be explored. Each time I finish playing a book, I give it away.

Thursday

Every day during Lent, Alice posts a scripture and a question. For today, Lent Day 27: Jesus claims to be God. What does that mean to you? Jesus cried out, “Whoever believes in me does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. (John 12:44)

After a walk with 4 dogs, we line up projects, measure rooms and beds for assembly, and eat a hearty home-cooked breakfast on the Porch. I do the cooking because during Ramadan, the helpers are fasting.

The month of cooking is my treat to myself. I cook and eat what and when I want without considering local tastes. I sometimes sniff the air near noontime, deciding what I'm hungry for. Giving a helper a break from the kitchen is not required. In most non-Muslim households, meal preparations continue as usual, though Muslim helpers are not supposed to eat or drink while the sun's up. Food doesn't taste the same when they can't taste it, though.

Living in a Project, we depend heavily on others: W and I couldn't begin to focus on academic work and leading teams if our time was consumed by house and yard maintenance. The daily cost is this: I can no longer impulsively chart my day. Instead, I run the household and other spaces like a small business, managing employees and their workloads. Normally, I schedule tasks and post the lunch menu on a whiteboard ... before the others arrive at 8AM.

This little guy hasn't made it across the street. So much wildlife lives only for a short season, especially in a city full of cats.

I find another unopened box in the carport. The children's books inside are happily claimed by Hanny as prizes for IES Bandung kids.

W and I trim more words from my dictionary article. I leave stroke-throughs across 50 words I consider important but not essential. I'm still 150 words over the limit. Grrr. Editing is the hardest part of writing.

The birds chirp, the brooms swish, the dishes clatter in the sink, and the beautiful view reminds me that God is generous and kind. He has everything - including time - under control. My joyful obligation is to do the next right thing, one step at a time.

Traffic is miserable. At the market, PakG negotiates barely-passible spaces between buses, motorcycles, hand-pulled carts (see the guy on the right?), pedestrians, and cars. We don't know how he does it.

Many old houses are rented out as student dorms in this university city.

The alleys into neighborhoods are sometimes one or two handlebars wide.

We have a few grocery items on our list. Along the way, W chooses a cafeteria-style restaurant where the corned beef sandwiches are good. The line to get it in is long. We're told, "Probably a half hour." I perch on a cheap plastic stool for nearly an hour before giving up and going outside. W zips over to a nearby grocer to see if they have an item we didn't find. Nope. He comes to get me when it's time to order, after a wait of 1 1/2 hours.

Our table is ready. The music pulses with pop and jazz. W keeps music on constantly so he hardly notices. (I thrive in silence because the music in my head is loud enough.) I find napkins at the server station and tear off pieces, stuffing them into my ears to cut the edge off the noise. People shout across their tables in the warehouse-sized room that has no soundproofing. Forewarned, I would have brought construction-grade earplugs.

I've lost my appetite. I'm not a fan of greasy food at the best of times. Fried cheesecake?  No thanks - pure ick! W looks forward to their specialty: corned beef wedged between fat-drenched sourdough, with a side of potato chips. I order rotisserie chicken and rice. We share part of a plate of well-oiled mushroom gnocchi; W takes the rest - half his sandwich and half the gnocchi - home for supper.

It's good but not worth enduring the racket and jostling in the waiting line. My skull has tightened into a headache by the time we escape. We make a short stop at another shop before heading home. Luckily, W has Ibuprofen at home, which blunts the pain.

Would you bathe in this water? That's what comes out of the tap today. W hauls buckets of water from the water heater in the upstairs shower while I fill pails at the kitchen sink. The water looks dirty. With Epsom salts and hand soap bubbles, it's a treat.

Friday
It's the last workday for those taking the week off for Lebaran (the family holiday at the end of Ramadan.) PakG plants the irises that Martin gifted us, along with a multi-colored branch that has been rooting on the kitchen windowsill. The dogs get their walks and the yard and house get cleaned.

W installs a strip of lights above my desk and stand-alone lighting under the kitchen cabinets. I need another Ibuprofen before I can put my desk back in order. Most of the day, I'm editing. RB sends his thesis (I get partway through) and an Asian press is waiting for an article (returned today with edits). My own edits have not whittled off more words, sadly. I'll format the citations tomorrow and send it off.

I pause in the middle of editing to cook lunch. When I'm by myself, I get absorbed and don't stop until I finish what I'm working on. However, when W is around, I need to be mindful that his stomach may be growling before my appetite appears.

The homemade vegetable sauce includes fried onions, cabbage, meat, carrots, and chopped tomatoes. Ricotta cheese creams it. Italian herbs, salt, and pepper season it. I check the sell-by date on the egg noodle package: oops, they expired last November. They tasted fresh. We indulge in TJ dark chocolate peanut butter cups for dessert.

Just for fun, I swap a set of chairs between my office and the living room. Much better. The modern chairs and cozy sheepskins encourage relaxed conversations. However, their leaning backs hinder good posture if I'm working.

It's pure luxury to hear birds singing, dogs barking, and thunder rumbling from the covered Porch. My tall mug of tea gets refilled many times. 

Saturday

Today's post is this. Lent Day 28: Is there any darkness that you are hiding in? How would letting Jesus’ light shine in you take away that darkness? [Jesus said,] I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness. (John 12:46)

It's the end of fasting month. It's very loud, an all-night celebration as speakers boom. Our old dog Gypsy is terrified of fireworks so it's a nightmare for him. He scratches deep grooves in the back door trying to escape the noise. When W hears him, he gets tied to his blackout dog house, where light flashes and bangs are minimized. Poor dog.

Many helpers are away. This driveway hasn't been swept as usual: the bougainvillea has dropped a ribbon of petals at the gate. 

We head out for the morning walk, greeting neighbors who are coming back from Muslim prayers. We walked by the crowd on a side street. From what we could see, men sat together inside the park-like grounds, while women sat on the street.

Everyone is nicely dressed. Some households wear matching outfits. Per tradition, they take a new way home when the chants are over, talking and greeting each other. It's wonderful to see many generations walking together. The kids jump and chatter like sparrows. At this time of year, people return to visit their families, like Canadians and Europeans do at Christmas.

Read more:
* O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. Psalm 71:17

* ... how from childhood you have known sacred writings that are able to instruct you for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. 2 Timothy 3:15

Moravian Prayer: Lord, may we never stop being curious about your love and goodness, no matter our age. May we never become so rigid in our thinking that you cannot break through with new revelations. Keep us open and malleable to your guidance and words. Amen.

Thank you, and a few endings ...

Saturday, March 14, 2026
The night is short, less than 4 hours for each of us after we get home from the week in Tokyo. To unwind from the scary shuttle ride from the airport, I unpack most of the suitcases. When we wake, we finish unpacking while setting the house to rights. The fragrant shrub Hendy dropped off has been planted near the front door.

Overhead, the "bean tree" is dripping with pods.

I make a breakfast of meat and eggs. Of course, then you notice what needs doing. The freezer has inches of ice on the sides, shelves, and back. We pull out the shelf and let it thaw in the sink. Then we knock the ice off the freezer compartment.

Something sticky has leaked on the shelves of the fridge door. Etc.  Always something to do to keep a home hotel-ready.

Before long, the last laundry is in the hamper, the clean clothes are put away, and the suitcases are headed into storage. Meanwhile, W does business in town. He walks down the mountain and catches an angkot (little city van) back up. We indulge in lunch at Ethnic. I'm hungry for my favorite dish of rice, oncom, and rendang (coconut beef stew). Beside our table, 3' (1meter) fern fronds emerge from a lacy base.

W orders an $8 pepper steak: a tenderloin, complete with mashed potatoes and vegetables. 

When I'm tired, my intake filters go open and my expression filters start working overtime = my mind whirls with possibilities beyond the literal and obvious.  I see a 1' (30cm) pig's head peeking at us from beside our table. W agrees it (kinda) looks that way.

Another pruned tree reminds us of a little owl. Do you spot it?

Most fun of all is this 5' (1.70 meter) alien that appears to be stalking something behind a nearby tree. Its thin arms and legs are topped with a crown of spikes.

I rein in my imagination by focusing on the delicious food. W doesn't have his phone along so we're not immersed in research while we eat.

With various trips scheduled this coming year, we must confirm whether volunteers can carry the English program for neighborhood kids without our help. Today's test is letting them prepare for the lessons before the kids come. They do great! while I nap. 

There's a good group of kids and moms. Most are Muslim so they will take a few weeks' break for family travels during Lebaran, the culmination of Ramadan.

I check the guestrooms to make sure all is well.

The library shelves absorb new books from our travels.

Sunday
We're almost finished with our IES Bandung leadership season. Participants are international - from every continent. The morning's guests, a youth choir from the city, are a blessing.

Titik's bouquet is a splendid green and white arrangement.

We host the final board meeting.

Then we go for lunch together. Homeground's food is deliciously spicy as usual.

Monday
Walking, we notice that a tall tree stump has sprouted. Indonesians are confident in chopping off every branch with the expectation that a tree will rejuvenate itself.

It's a morning of errands - grocer, bank, specialty shop ... "Where do you want to eat?" W asks.

I'm hungry for good crepes, but decide to make those tonight. We go to Saka Bistro on the way home. The beef is good.

The gnocchi is excellent as always.

And, as in many public spaces, Ramadan decor is brightly awaiting tonight's clients after they break their fast.

On the way home, we stop by the grocer. Veronica hands over 3 hands of bananas. IbuS bakes 3 huge loaves. We send a loaf of banana bread down the hill once it cools.

Tuesday

After our walk, we have a quick breakfast at Nara. We're the only clients. People are saving money for the feast days ahead. Even the tortoises are snoozing in their dens. This one wedges itself in a cave about a meter wide.

IbuSiti arrives to give me a post-travel massage. What a relief. I listen to a book while she works, and then tackle chores. The helpers are here, baking all the bananas that Veronice sent up yesterday. We bought a few dozen eggs yesterday but the helpers say, "Ibu, we need more eggs to finish the banana breads."

W and I walk down the hill to the closest grocer. Much of the food doesn't look appetizing, including these chicken wings, which are a ghastly color. It's a buy-one-get-one-free sale. No thanks.

We stop for lunch at John and Grace's place, a Korean restaurant where students are learning to cook. The food court behind the nearby university has many options. We share some food, packing up what we can't finish.

W enjoys a good cup of coffee and fried chicken wings. The conversation with John is interesting and informative, as usual.

Our team meets for the last time for accountability and direction. Next week we close out this season with a team lunch.

We celebrate Hanny's birthday with a tea party. We sing Happy Birthday and eat the delicious cake she brings. The klappertart (coconut custard) Alice brought is delicious, and the team enjoys the fresh banana bread. We pass out a pack of tea and Japanese pens as a parting gift. Everyone takes home leftovers to enjoy tonight.

Hanny's sister-in-law is an excellent baker.

The plant that looked so leggy and awful has broken out into glorious 5" (12cm) blossoms. Good thing I didn't chop it off 2 weeks ago as I intended. 

Last things and ending well can be tiring. W and I rest into the evening, thankful that we've been able to work with some wonderful people over the past years. We've shaped each other and mentored each other - and grown together. Thanks be to God.

Read more:
* I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. Exodus 20:2'

* Our steps are made firm by the LORD when he delights in our way; though we stumble, we shall not fall headlong, for the LORD holds us by the hand. Psalm 37:23-24

* If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved. As Scripture says, “Anyone who believes in him will never be put to shame.”

For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly 

blesses all who call on him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Romans 10:9-13

* For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters, only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become enslaved to one another. Galatians 5:13

* [Peter] cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” Matthew 14:30-31

Moravian Prayer: We try, patient Savior, to do as you ask and require of us. Forgive us when we falter and stray. Please do not take your steadying hand from us, so we may continue to keep trying. Amen.