Day by day ...

Wednesday, January 22, 2025

Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my troubles here. That old song rings through my heart. (Click here to hear it.)

We get news overnight that a friend has died of a heart attack. We begin to pray and inform Ray's friends of his family's loss. Everyone is shocked: he was in his 30s.

W and I walk before our breakfast date at #narapark. This young man carries bags of ice to the restaurants at Nara. We can't imagine how cold his arm and shoulder must be!

We walk to the office to sign an MOU for next year's rent and finish other business before noon. We're participate in a global-expat prayer group online, which settles our souls. God knows each name and each place. He is at work all around us.

In the garden, the poinsettias from Christmas have settled in. It's nature's way to renew and be renewed in cycles of life and death, growth and harvest.

It's a whole day of meetings and care. W heads for the men's study at a coffee shop. After supper, we join Ray's family and friends online for his funeral.

Thursday

After a short and restless night, we're off to the mountains to refresh body and soul. W and I join 3 young and fit hikers for "Mariska's Trail," named in honor of our Dutch hiking friend when she repatriated some years ago. Five walkers, five dogs.

We start with a 24-storey climb to the pine forest. I have to stop a few times to let my post-Covid heartrate slow to 140 beats/min.

The trail is always full of interesting plants and wildlife. We sidestep a piece of monkey-tree that's fallen on the path. It initially looks like a snake.

We descend to a series of ponds. The dogs go for a swim under the waterfalls. The series of crude bridges is renewed every few months as they decay in the stream. It's a rough setup this time around. 

Juno gets swept off her feet in the water but Alexandra (below) throws herself prone on the bridge and catches her. Juno braces herself on the rocky bottom (with A's help) until a young man fishes her out. He pulls hard against the current to release her. Then Juno scrambles across the bridges like the rest of us. Her daughter (Skye) walks calmly across with Alex.

We're all relieved Juno wasn't swept downriver. She's a good jumper and probably wouldn't have trouble getting on shore downstream, but she's aging and the rains have sped up the currents in the shallow stream below.

On the other side, we walk the muddy paths to the tea fields. Many new irrigation pipes along the last kilometer of the trail are leaking. We have a choice: slog through unknown mud where the trail used to be or balance on the slippery PVC pipes to the next patch of solid ground. We mostly walk on the pipes, which hardly helps the leaks.

From across the river valley, we can see the tall pines where we started. At this point, we're about halfway up the side of the second mountain.

Juno's having a bad day. Her second adventure comes when she jumps into the canal beside the trail for a drink and swim. She has a hard time scrambling back over the +1.5 meter (4.5') wall back to the path. I pat the wall at its lowest point and she climbs up.

Gypsy hears the chatter of monkeys, his nemesis. Eva catches Juno by the collar but Gypsy has already hurled himself across the channel and up a steep slope. The monkeys chirp and scold, while we yell and whistle for our dog. Eventually Gypsy tires of the chase and comes down another way. W clips the leash on him. Gypsy doesn't seem to mind: he's tired from so much fun.

Luckily we're not far from the meeting point with the cars. We're all dirty by the time we reach them. W and I slip out of our filthy shoes and don flip-flops before hopping into the car. Bailey's not as lucky. He waded through most of the muck. Happily, PakG gives him a wash when we get home.

"What good time we made!" says the hike leader. We've cut an hour off our usual time. We stop for brunch at Mandarin in Lembang, the city between the hiking trail mountains and Bandung. One of our favorite dishes is a beef-and-spinach hotpot.

I have time for a shower and change of clothes before going back to town. The Book Group celebrates 4 January birthdays. The quiche is tasty. (No need for supper, that's for sure.)

The greetings are warm. Most of the women have known each other for decades.

On the way home, PakG patiently waits in traffic for 4 tourist buses to make U-turns. They go back-and-forth through a narrow opening, changing direction from one 2-lane side of the road to the other. Note how motorcycles and bicycles squeeze by in the spaces around the bus. Everyone knows to negotitate moving objects and stays out of their way. Barely.

Friday

They trimmed the poinsettia tree at the neighbor's to a multi-pronged stump. After a few weeks, it's grown new leaves. The red color and bracts will show up again after a month when the days are shorter than the nights.

Another neighbor's hedge is being enveloped in a creeping parasite.

The bright yellow-green vines take over unless they are pulled off. Once established, they're hard to eradicate completely.

The stump that's been decaying on the side of the road is half the original size. Suddenly, it's sprouting multiple trunks from the shrinking wood. Left alone, there will soon be another tree guaranteeing that the road cannot be widened. Sundanese try not to cut down tall trees in case they "disturb the spirits" of the tree.

It's a neighborhood of contrasts. As we walk, I turn to take pictures behind us: the garbage dump and a parking lot for shuttles and tour buses.

A block in the other direction are houses, little food carts, and a 5-star hotel.

A publisher contacts me to ask for a pre-publication review. I've been meaning to read this book anyway, written by an Indian-American comic. She is smart and funny, but brutally honest about her values and expectations, both from her past and as an immigrant mom, wife, and business person. This American Woman is a moving and hilarious retelling of her of cultural expectations, even with its raw and gritty street language.

As the child of an immigrant and an expat since my late-20s, I recognize many of #zarnagarg's feelings and her caricatures of life as a perpetual stranger. Moving away from our first communities means making constant adjustments as we learn about our host culture.

Another review is due for a book on memory. "Don't think it's abnormal to forget," says the researcher. "Your brain is constantly sorting and overwriting memories, so changes are that details you remember have been overlaid many times and the most recent version is not true."

I'm known more for what I forget than what I remember - my memory files are full. "Write a journal since you will forget most of life otherwise," she write. That's what this blog is about. I go back a few years to remember people we've met, experiences we've enjoyed, and ways we've served.

I write to several organizations, requesting permission to customize a survey to collects data for an upcoming book. Editing and sending those initial requests takes the bulk of the afternoon. Judy sends some resources my way as well.

After everyone goes home, the rain moves through the trees. Soon the wind splatters a hard downpour across my feet and forces me off the Porch. The birds crouch in their cages and flap off the raindrops as though in the shower. The lightning is too close for comfort.

Saturday

It's a gorgeous sunny start with high clouds. In the cool of the morning, we walk around piles of plastic and other refuse, washed onto the wet pavement from where it's been tossed on the roadside.

PakG comes up with a solution for the shallow basin that holds fish in the tall flowerpot. "Some fish jumped out of the basin and into the lavender. How about using a deeper bowl?" Smart idea.

We check out several options from the kitchen: a deep food-grade pail ("too heavy" if filled with water) and a salad prep bowl ("too pink!"), before he finds a black pail. Its rim is the right size. The white mollies and red swordtails gain 8" (20cm) of swimming depth. The plant's shade prevents the water from getting too warm.

The frogs on the waterlilies in the big pond chirp to each other. The canary is in full cry this morning, too. Voices drift up from the village below and the university sports fields.

The budgie bitten by a rat last week (while in his cage) succumbed yesterday. PakG found 2 birds to replace it ($12 for both). We can't put just one in an existing cage or the old budgie will fight with it. It takes a few days for everyone to settle in.

But PakG remarks that the two males are fighting. He suggests getting another one and makes two more bamboo "houses" so each bird has their own. He found a wide stalk of bamboo in his neighborhood, cuts two lengths, and attaches them to the cage. The birds find shelter at night and when it's windy or cold (below 70F or 21C).

While I make calls and work on the Porch, W enjoys writing in the shade outside his office door. We never tire of this weather.

Read more:

*Do you think you can fool God the way you fool others? Job 13:9 GNT

*Uphold me according to your promise, that I may live, and let me not be put to shame in my hope. Psalm 119:116

*Jesus said, “Anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and does not come under judgment but has passed from death to life.” John 5:24

*Jesus said to the Pharisees, “You are those who justify yourselves in the sight of others, but God knows your hearts.” Luke 16:15

Moravian Prayer: O Lord, you have given us the promise of eternal life through your son, Jesus Christ. All you ask in return is to trust in you. Hold us to this covenant relationship; guide us on the path of faith.

God of grace and God of glory, we try to fool you and we try to fool ourselves. When we lift ourselves up, feeling the need to justify our actions to others, humble us. Let all we do be done in love and service to you. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.

"What, there's another one?" (How many trees are enough?)

Wednesday, December 4, 2024

Mid week. Already. We set two little trees near the sliding doors. One starts as a mess of tangled lights in crushed branches, with few ornaments and a missing stand. Save or toss?

I think we can save it. W rigs up a stand and wedges the base into it. I strip it and start to fluff out the needles.

When the bells, ornaments, and lights are replaced, it gets a final straightening and a length of batik over the base. Looks good. Once upon a time, it was an expensive tree.

A still smaller tree on the table gets wrapped with silver tinsel garland, a few birds, and two stems of white berries. Random leftovers, in other words. This was last year's discard - maybe a tree topper? - until W drilled a hole in a block of wood and shoved the wire stem into it.

Then I putter, thinking through Sunday's talk and fielding calls. We letter Christmas ornaments for the "We Care!" giveaway.

"There's another big box in storage upstairs," says IbuS. There's more? Of what?

PakG hauls it down and the two of them set up the old-fashioned, big-needled pine inside. It's like the trees we had as kids. It has holes in a central 6' wooden pole. The branches have twisted wire ends that fit into the holes. The tree stand has 3 screws to hold the trunk in place, plus a red cup held by 3 green feet. Remember those? Over the weekend, we find missing branches here and there, including in a box in a storage basement at the hall.

I have no idea where we got this tree. The trunk is bare and ugly and I'm out of garlands. I root through the boxes we've returned to storage for a few ornaments, which we hang on the branches. Simple tree. It doesn't look too awful at the Porch entry.

I'm worried it will blow over when the wind kicks up. "Should we tie it to the porch railing?" I ask W. He says no, that won't work.

ChaCha and I meet at Ethnic for lunch. She's a follower of Jesus, a dear young friend, and a hard-working entrepreneur.

Thursday

It rained most days this week although today is dry. The hiking group decides not to risk the wet and slippery trails. W and I do a long loop (a few miles) with the dogs and I finish a few dozen more give-away ornaments.

Before lunch while the helpers bake cookies and bread, we run errands in town. W is replacing the hose on the hot water tank and getting the weedwacker repaired and replaced. (The yardman can't mow the lawn without it. He tackles the flowerbeds while he waits for our return.)

While W checks repairs, I browse ACE for something to cover up the bare wood of the 2 meter/6' Porch tree. I find 4 sparkly green garlands for the price of one: 75% off? My kind of deal.

After lunch, I wind the garlands up the trunk and around the bottom branches. I'm back inside when a gust of wind topples the tree. W finds 3 mossy bricks in the garden and puts those on the feet. Looks good and they should keep the tree upright.

For supper, we have "butter" avocados on IbuS's fresh-baked bread. The avocados from the corner fruit stand are finally ripe. W tries the new scoop/masher from the Dollar Store; woohoo, it works.

The windows rattle in the evening as the thunder rolls in. We hear the rain coming closer, hissing on the trees before it splashes onto the roof tiles. We're grateful to be inside and dry. So many are not so privileged in this city. Flash flooding is a hazard downhill as water from Bandung's mountains overflows catch basins and rivers.

Friday

Since I can't sleep, I pull out my computer and work on Sunday's talk. It's rare and frustrating when I have no clarity until the end of the week. But this is the second week of Advent so the topic is faith, which W defines as "trusting obedience." I have to trust that God will give us the message to communicate his love and care clearly. So I write in the middle of the night when that insight comes.

After about an hour's sleep, the sun's up and it's time to walk. W and I read and edit Sunday's talk together. Beside the gate, the vine clipped on a walk is blooming.

The neighborhood used to have modest 1-2 storey homes for elder scholars. The biggest shock is construction at the end of the small lane. Two houses on either side have already added rooms on top. Now this 4-storey apartment is rumored to become a rental for students from down the hill. That would change the neighborhood from residential to commercial. (With students come small food carts, loud motorcycles, and loud parties.)

Saturday

W's usual group is away today so we walk to Nara for breakfast. There's a company family Christmas party, complete with ear-splitting volume on voice and music. The kids play on the carpeted playground. In rainy season, that keeps the kids from getting splatted with mud.

See the managers in a team-building game (left)? Three people hold 3 balls. Two balls get wedged between the 3 people. One ball is held by the leader. The three run across the grass to their team members. Then the leader hand the ball he's holding to the first person in line. That person grabs the ball, drops to the back of the 3-person team with the ball on their stomach, snugging up to the middle person. They run across to do the same transfer on the other end. First group to get through every person in line wins. Too much proximity for me!

Dolly sent me an iris 2 years ago. Today it's blooming in the garden. 

The fish are happily swimming in the ponds. During sun breaks, the floating solar fountains circulate air back into the ponds. I grab handfuls of algae from the smallest pond and its pump kicks into gear.

The flowers from Monday's nursery run have been planted for a pop of color.

The green wall is regaining its plants after being accidentally stripped.

PakG brings down a patio table and chairs from the upper balcony = I have a desk overlooking the tidy garden if I am feeling extroverted. When I need focus, I sit the other way, with a laser-cut screen and plants on the wall. Both views are helpful. I rise to crush big ants carrying egg cases instead of setting an alarm to stand up. We don't need more ants!

My tasks are defining survey questions for my book; plus editing 2 more chapters of someone's dissertation toward their potential book. W heads down the hill to buy olive oil, get a long walk, and replace the light socket that burned out (perhaps during a lightning strike?) Electrical systems aren't grounded, though houses have a lightning rod on their roofs. Next week is our annual Christmas dinner-and-a-movie night so we're prepping that.

The worship team practices with me for two hours. My throat is raw and painful and I have a headache in the evening, usually the sign that I'm getting sick. I just got over the flu a few weeks ago. I pray for healing.

Sunday

It's the second Sunday of Advent.

Alice has spearheaded IES Bandung's fourth Art Sunday. People enjoy making bags and cards.

Some make ornaments. This one uses yarn I brought from my mom's stash in Chilliwack (Canada.)

After a meeting, some of the team eat lunch with us at Maxi's. My headache is worse so we rest in the afternoon.

Titik sends home this geometric arrangement - what art.

Monday

What! One more tree, found in a box. It's a crumpled mess.

Once unfolded and decorated, it's a lovely little thing that fits perfectly on the bookcases.

I take notes from the best books on Blinkest, sitting on the Porch at my new outdoor desk. W is getting his own headache, writing his book about women in ministry in another part of the house.

For supper, it's fresh bread and red pepper spread from a jar snagged last summer at Aldi in Missouri. Time to indulge. It's delicious on the hearty chia/flax seed slice.

Read more:

*Love truth and peace. Zechariah 8:19

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7

Moravian Prayer: Understanding Savior, you are able to comprehend the message of our hearts, even when words fail us. We rejoice to be seen, heard, and known by you. Amen.