The seasons come and go

Friday, March 14, 2025

We walk after breakfast. Few people are outside. In Ramadan, Muslims conserve their energy as they are fasting food and water. Nature sings loudly as usual, its bright and colorful textures overlapping. One fence is dripping with trumpet bells.

A fruit tree will have ripe guavas soon.

On the building project down the street, magnificent columns and ornaments embellish the house.

They've plumbed the roof runoff through PVC pipes imbedded in concrete columns ... with no attention paid to the bases of the 4 storey columns. We live in an area of active volcanos and earthquakes. The foundation for the cement columns are loosely-mortared bricks. The centra column rests partly on them with the other part hanging in space. Hmmm.

A lizard hasn't made it across the street but the lacy outline of flattened limbs is beautiful against the paving. I've considered collecting dried creatures for an art piece. Would be cool - except that ants would get behind the glass and mess it up.

Many of us toss our leafless poinsettias after Christmas. But see this "hardly-any-leaves" tree? It is a mature poinsettia. Apparently the plant is deciduous, shedding leaves after the red bracts are done. It restarts after a rest and becomes lush and full. Who knew? I guess we threw out those bare green twigs too soon.

Ibu Siti gives me a deep-tissue massage. What a painful release of muscles that were hiking yesterday. I put on iPods and listen to a textbook to focus my mind elsewhere - and get some work done. Meanwhile, W takes an expat friend for a checkup at the hospital.

When we walk up to Homeground for spicy chicken and green beans, we pass blooming trees and shrubs. Water apples are ripening.

The "stinky bean" tree has large orchid-like blossoms.

A hedge is covered in bright pink flowers shaped like gingerbread men.

Lunch is $4 each. Tasty and very!! spicy. It's been a hot sunny morning but clouds blow over in the early afternoon. The wind kicks up, ringing the chimes on the Porch. The birds chirp back and forth, playing before the storm hits.

An international leaders' Zoom meeting is moved to next week. We rest, get ready for Sunday, and edit. 

Oh those edits! The academic article on Korean-Japanese relations is both interesting and informative. Lucky me: I learn without doing all that research! Off it goes for a final interaction with the author and formatting for publication.

We pampered (and killed) bromeliads as house plants back in Canada/USA. Now we have to cull them so they don't climb up the entire guava tree.

Other bromeliad tips glow pink in the grey light of an impending rainstorm. I brought a plant home from Malang - only to find many such bromeliads here. No matter: the one has become dozens.

Saturday

3-4 times a year, I shift the living room decor or placement. Since we don't have climate seasons, this breaks up the year with color. It takes 10 minutes to exchange the cheering reds of Christmas and Valentines Day ...

... with soothing garden greens. It's minimal effort for a different feel.

 

I turn Kim's batik blanket over to its lighter side, too.

After our walk, W engages with an online study while I make calls and write. Then I make lunch and settle down to learn something new.

Last year, I read about early-onset dementia (which my cousin suffered) in Still Alice by #LisaGenova. We are truly wonderful creations; so complicated, and so much works ... until it doesn't.

In Left Neglected, Genova writes about a syndrome called "Left Neglect." I learn that a person with brain damage or a stroke may only feel, see, or perceive the right side of things. The left side is blanked out by the brain. The left disappears as though it has never existed, whether that's the left side of their face, their body, a book, or a space. How is that possible? We are amazing creatures.

The nook no longer matches the rest of the room, which is now green. So off goes the pink cloth, to be shaken out, folded, and hung away ... 

and onward ho with 2 green Bali sarongs.

The pink dining tablecloth can wait until Monday. I stretch out the seasonal changes as long as I can. A weekend feels like forever because in my mind's eye - whether it's a house plan or baking or decor - it's finished as soon as I imagine it. I'm surprised when it isn't already in place.

I like swapping things out. Yet the first day after a change, I dislike the new thing. Maybe the change happens too fast? It takes a day or two for my body to catch up to a creative shift, whether that's art I'm making, a new slipcover, or furniture in a new place.

It's overcast and dark by 3:00. Thunder rumbles and the wind kicks up as we walk up the hill for an early dinner with friends.

Sunday

All runs smoothly at IES Bandung and the team meeting. Then we enjoy lunch at Miss Bee. 

Today's flowers are a mountain of green and a river of color.

They're beautiful, thanks to the creativity of #titikbadudu.

A friend gifts us with batik shits.

We soak them in salt and vinegar water to set the colors.

We read, relax, and prepare for the coming week.

Read more:

*Noah found favor in the sight of the Lord. Genesis 6:8

*Joshua said to the people, “You are witnesses against yourselves that you have chosen the Lord, to serve him.” And they said, “We are witnesses.” Joshua 24:22

*You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the excellence of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. 1 Peter 2:9

*Therefore, brothers and sisters, be all the more eager to confirm your call and election, for if you do this, you will never stumble. For in this way, entry into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ will be richly provided for you. 2 Peter 1:10-11

Moravian Prayer: God of all ages, in life, death, and the life to come, you are our creator and sustainer. Whether we live or die, may our witness and service to others always point to you and the present and coming kingdom of God.

O life-affirming Creator, how often we forget that we are your beloved creation: chosen, created, and named, as you proclaimed, “It is good.” Call us out of our doubts and our fears to live with you. Amen.

Light and life

 Wednesday, January 15, 2025

It's a wild scramble to get on the movie night list on Mondays when the invitation is posted. But eventually everyone is included: usually there are 50-60 attendees. The sun goes down late at this time of year, just south of the equator. I take this picture at 6:20 PM, admiring the sunset with several young adults. By the time everyone else arrives, it is dark.

Cautiously, the newcomers venture into the group. Once people get their food, the room starts to warm up. We always have first-time visitors ("First time, a guest") along with returning attendees ("Second time, a friend.")

Our greeters are those who have come many times. They make sure others feel welcome. ("Third time, you're family.") The line stretches out the door as we load up our plates. Today, we come from 11 countries.

It's good to see people fill their plates and their hearts, chit-chatting as they make their way into the kitchen, and back out to find a seat for the first half of the movie.

Students and (mostly) young adults sit on the porch or inside. We've gradually set up the room with a chair for each person, not just a beanbag or pillow. After the first half of the movie, it's time for desert. Then we finish watching The Wild Robot with attending "ooh!" "oh no!" and "AHhhh!" as the scenes unfold.

What lively discussions afterward! The helpers have washed up and taken out the garbage before 10 PM. By 11, everyone's gone home. We shower, pray over those who came - that they experience God's care, friendship, and health ... and fall fast asleep.

Thursday

We leave for the mountain hike at 7:30 AM, after picking up Veronica and Brunhild, her friend from Germany. The route starts with a narrow chasm between cliffs. The trail is elevated over the muck below with bamboo stalks. Where the bamboo has begun to rot, boards are nailed across the span to hold the bamboo off the wet ground. We step from board to board. It's slippery but not difficult.

As the crest of a hill, the dogs watch hikers climb the trail behind us.

It's mostly downhill though 3 climbs upward lie between those descents.

As usual, the vegetation catches my eye.

PakG drops us at Ethnic for our post-hike lunch. Several retired hikers join us. We're only a few blocks from home, so W and I walk back. A hot shower is in order. I treat myself to tea and Trader Joes peanut butter cups. (Oh oh, the TJ container is half empty - we bring one home each October. Must space out my treats better.)

IbuA has baked pretzel buns, so W snags a hot roll on his stroll through the kitchen. The women have put the furniture back in place and the floors and shelves have been washed. The kitchen is tidy again. 

The women are glad that we've simplified the movie night setup. Art is still taken off the "screen" wall, and we bring chairs from upstairs down and back. But most of the room stays intact. (They used to haul rugs, the dining table, and shelves away.)

Supper with visitors from Germany is at their hotel nearby. The city sparkles from the opposite hill outside the windows. We enjoy lively a conversation about who God is and how he is at work in the world. 

W and I walk home in the warm mist. It's not worth putting up an umbrella. There are few public streetlights. Instead, every household must turn on lights near their entry to guide passersby. Most have automatic lights like ours that turn on at dusk.

On the Porch, W rehangs the lamp he put aside for movie night. The LEDs sparkle; the plastic bulbs tap against each other in the wind. Eight years ago, we found three of these chandeliers in an ACE Hardware Christmas clearance ($4). They faithfully ward off the dark.

Friday

Before 5 AM, I'm finally wrestling with ideas for Sunday.  In movie week, there's no capacity for anything but that - until we are refreshed by nature and the house is reset.

Sunday is coming ... and the topic is parenting. I've been tossing around the topic for 2 weeks. How does one raise children to love and serve God? I turn to the scriptures to see what God teaches us as our heavenly Father.

Then I walk around the block to reset my head. The Padma hotel is dressed for Chinese New Year, coming later this month.

We pick up a white birdcage and PakG takes home 2 free hamster cages for his kids, thrown into the deal. As we pass the main mosque, cars are double-parked for blocks as men gather for the week's prayers.

PakG cleans the new cage. "Oh look at this!" he exclaims. He points out a gap in the blue budgerigar's wing and a hole bitten in its body. "Probably was a rat!"

I put some tissues in the corner so the bird will have a warm "blanket" if it chooses. It hops into the opposite corner.

PakG and W doctor the wounds with iodine and put the bird and its companion into the new cage. "Usually a bird will die if it is injured like this," PakG tells us. It hops around a bit. Let's see.

This week, I've met with most team members, one on one. I'm asking, "What do you sense that God intends to do in you this coming year?" and, "What goals are you setting for your work?" The answers intrigue me and give me direction for prayers.

Saturday

The budgie is alive and moving around the cage. I cruise the yard to see what's blooming. The flowerbeds are filled with color.

The lemon tree is fruiting, big clumps of lemons hanging from its branches.

Under it, seedlings from a potted red flower have matured and are themselves creating seedlings.

I spend most of the afternoon puttering. I walk +4000 steps, back and forth between rooms, returning art to the walls, clearing office storage, and storing the final Christmas items. Finally, I put some prints (from Penang, last year) into frames and sort the papers on my desk.

The last stacks of books from my office get shelved in the little library in the main room. The space has become a tranquil corner to curl up to read or meditate. I dig my toes into the shag rug beside the armchair.

Read more:

*In you, Lord my God,

    I put my trust.

I trust in you;

    do not let me be put to shame,

    nor let my enemies triumph over me.

No one who hopes in you

    will ever be put to shame,

but shame will come on those

    who are treacherous without cause.

Show me your ways, Lord,

    teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me,

    for you are God my Savior,

    and my hope is in you all day long.

Remember, Lord, your great mercy and love,

    for they are from of old.

Do not remember the sins of my youth

    and my rebellious ways;

according to your love remember me,

    for you, Lord, are good.

Good and upright is the Lord;

    therefore he instructs sinners in his ways.

He guides the humble in what is right

    and teaches them his way.

All the ways of the Lord are loving and faithful

    toward those who keep the demands of his covenant. Psalm 25:1-10

Most of us are alive and well, 5 years and 25 years after the world almost ended

Saturday, January 4, 2025

Remember 25 years ago at the turn of the century? Many Westerners were in a panic because the world might come to an end? After January 1, 2000, when the predicted computer meltdown didn't happen, they were eating or tossing a year's worth of canned and dried goods.

Here we are 25 years later. 

And when COVID hit, business, socializing, and travel paused and many people died, yet the world kept spinning. 5 years later, most of us hoped we'd be back to normal. That's happened for very few people.

Here we are 5 years later.

Yet, "it's not over until it's over." The one who gets to decide the beginning and end of time is God. I'm happy to put family, my work, and myself in his hands this new year. I feel a bit nostalgic for our hometown of Chilliwack this morning. (Photo of the Hope Slough, near my parents' house.)

Our tropical garden is dry and needs watering. The poinsettias we dug into the garden are wilting. We tell PakG: watch those flowers. When they droop, the garden needs water. We get a sprinkle overnight but it's not enough to hydrate the ground under the hot sun.

Apparently this year the rainy season is back to when it used to be. Our older friends told us, "Months ending in -ber are when the Bandung rains come." For the past few years, rainy season has been late or early. This year it's back to -ber months.

The flowers are thriving and the yard is colorful. The tall yellow blooms grow 6-8"/15cm-ish per week. They look like cosmos but are something else. I gathered their seeds on a hike years ago. Now there are nearly always a few plants lifting their sunny heads toward the sky.

W picks up extra bins for the remaining Christmas decor. I pull in some paintings and books to warm up the main room. I unroll the Pakistani tapestry (1X2m/3X6') that we found in the Old City of Jerusalem.

The Arab traders called out, "Madam, please buy from us. This was specially handcrafted by my Palestinian mother/sister/grandmother" .... except that the tapestries were obviously cobbled together from Pakistani and Indian saris. They were hardly done by Palestinians!

 We joked with the sellers and haggled over the price. I didn't care who made it then and don't care now. I still like it, 14 years later. The sequins sparkle in the afternoon light.

John and Lisa treat us to lunch at Ethnic. The discussion is lively. What a pleasure to have friends who enjoy deep conversations and sharing life.

W and I walk home as thunder rolls across the hills. The wind kicks up. It gets darker and darker; I make myself a cup of cocoa and flip lights on in the house. The ground could use a good rain. We listen for the hiss of water on leaves. Here it comes! the volume rising and falling as clouds scud by overhead.

W and I read through tomorrow's talk one more time. How precious is the family of God - that's what we'll be discussing.

Sunday

We talk about what it means to be part of God's family - and what healthy human families look like. For lunch, I heat up leftovers, cook creamed spinach and garlic mushrooms, and use my auntie's Spätzle-maker to make homemade noodles.

Monday

Finally, I create the survey for my upcoming book about parents of expats: I may call the book "Left Behind."

Jane comes for a cup of tea before lunch. Then W and I catch a ride down the hill to a new Middle Eastern restaurant. Menu items range from $1.75-6.00. You can order trays for parties, too. "And delivery is free," says the server.

I like their biryani rice and stewed beef as well as the schwarma (Middle Eastern burrito). As we enjoy the meal, we discuss upcoming plans and personnel. W hops out for another meeting partway up the hill when we finish.

In our garden, the gardenia shrub has begun to bloom again. I clip a flower to scent the house.

More spectacular is the arrangement Titik created with her garden flowers!

The house is finding its way into the new year, just as we are.

This afternoon, we re-sort and properly store Christmas items so they can be found next year or sold if we move to a smaller place. After last week's Christmas piles are lifted off a wool rug, it gets hauled down to the reading chair. Small details (even a carpet) make a big difference in a room.

The rug was crocheted by an Oregon crafter 25 years ago, using scraps from the Pendleton wool mill. I've always disliked the mashup of dull colors. It's an ugly item I've never regretted buying; I delight in its comfort as I curl my toes into it.

I'm tied up much of the day - checking off to-dos, writing instructions, canceling or postponing events, and chatting with leaders about this and that. W asks me to edit several chapters before he sends them to his book editor.

I start but don't have the stamina for a long session. "Is this what you want?" I ask, sending W the edits partway through. Apparently, yes. Tomorrow is another day.

Tuesday

After a lousy night's sleep, I edit another of W's chapters. We eat breakfast at #NaraPark and work through several meetings. I get great feedback on improving my book survey, too. Thanks, Colleen.

The sun's out most of the morning, which is nice as we drive to get groceries. At the top of the supermarket escalator, the French doors are wide open to the warm breezes. In January. Need I say more?

The dogs are happy when I empty the fridge of leftovers and W mixes it all together. They gobble it down: it's more interesting and nutritious than dog kibble.

I sit in the reading chair to send the last few messages of the day. There's one more meeting in the late evening with a spiritual advisor before it's off to bed.

Read more:

*Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. Isaiah 60:1

*He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. Psalm 23:2-3

*You were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls. 1 Peter 2:25

Moravian Prayer: Shepherd, guide us to the abiding place you have for us, the green pastures of our soul. Guide us to places where peace and joy may be found. We are your flock and happy to be yours. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.