He's back in town - hurrah

The swing in 8' tall; the wall at least 12'

It's noisy at night. Between celebrations, prayers, and readings from the mosques and traffic, the night is seldom still. Security guards walk through the neighborhoods, banging a wooden stick on metal fenceposts to assure us they're on the watch. (As far as we know, they go back to their security post to rest between making the rounds.)

W is in Singapore for two weeks. He picks up four IKEA raincoats with reflective trim, 2 for night security and 2 for day. Recently, the rains have added their hiss on the leaves and a stead hum on the roof to the sounds of the night.

Many homes border each other: the concrete dividing wall is usually 12-20' tall. Our house shares two such walls with neighbors. The yard is edged with such a tall fence, overgrown with vines, ferns, and orchids. Some days I can hardly stand the beauty.

I remember admiring similar plants years ago in a Seattle nursery (with a $100 price tag for a medium-sized tropical fern). Here they grow. They just grow. When we first moved in, I picked up three bird's nest ferns tossed in a heap under a tree. We tucked them between the vines and staghorn ferns on the wall. They're growing like crazy, with 4-6' fronds.

Thursday, February 1, 2018
The weekly hike takes five of us through the tea plantations. The workers are bemused that we would snap pictures of their manual labor. I let the others take photos: sometimes they ask for money to pose for us.

In the early evening, we head to the study at the Bamboo Shack. We have some first-timers again tonight. Reading Exodus 35, we observe that God is pleased with a willing heart - either to give what one has or to work. Though God doesn't force us to give to him, he commands that tasks get done. When we participate, we are blessed and the community benefits.

After, instead of just dropping off our friends at their house, they invite me in to join them for Padang food. This Sumatran kind of eating, where the host/ess piles on various plates and you eat what suits you, reminds me of a buffet. (In a restaurant, you pay only for what you eat.)

Dr. Hanna's Dutch friend (since high school) is here for a short visit. She brought 2 huge boxes of food from her favorite restaurant in Jakarta, which serves genuine Padang recipes. Alice and DrH warm up 10 dishes and put them on the table at 8pm. What? We're going to eat such a huge meal at this time of night? (They haven't even put everything out: there's sooo much food.)

Oh yes, we are. It's absolutely delicious: hot and spicy, flavorful, eaten with rice to cool our tongues. Thank God for a strong stomach and DrH's good advice: "Sit up for 3 hours after eating, so that you don't get heartburn." (No problem. I read a good book until midnight since there's no one else at home.)

We chat and exchange faith stories and experiences until I walk home after 10pm. I feel safe, though the neighborhood gang tikus (little lanes) are quiet and there's no one around. I'm home in 5 minutes,  locking the gate and doors behind me.

Friday
I head downtown after 10am. A few months ago, W found two cheap Balinese paintings at a garage sale and I finally want to get them framed. A few friends make suggestions about where to get the work done. At the first shop, it costs $14 for a custom-cut wooden frame and linen matt.

Och, they are dusty! The framer says he cannot clean the paintings for me. Then he grabs an eraser and scrubs a corner. (Now we have a white spot. I guess it works!) I'll have to clean the whole picture: the art has been sitting somewhere and is marked up.

I leave the pictures at the first place, but the second shop that's been recommended is more creative. When I get home, I call the first guy, "Please do not order material. I'll send someone to pick up the paintings." Once they're clean, I'll send them to the second shop.

When I get home, I have to write. I've been asked to write two articles for an upcoming book, so I need to send in the publishing permission slips. The actual articles are due in June.

There's a party in the neighborhood. Someone is practicing bass guitar and another the flute. Keyboards, drums, and vocalists join in. Yikes, they've turned up the volume. Sound carries through the neighborhoods - it's going to be a long, loud evening. Sounds like fun. And it goes on all weekend.

Saturday
I'm meeting someone new at Starbucks down the hill. She's been referred to us by a mutual friend in another city. It's hard to leave behind community and networks, so we share our connections with those who move elsewhere.

Jen calls to ask if I can meet her later - and ends up coming to the house before noon for our 11:00 meeting. Flex time. We have tea, homemade choco lava cake, and cookies on the porch, visiting for over an hour. We hope Jen joins us a few more times before she leaves for China and university next month.

"I like coming to Westerners' houses. You always offer us something good to eat!"

Waldemar flies home from Singapore in the late afternoon. He's wrapped up two weeks of Church History with an enthusiastic group of international students. Heis tired but happy, bringing his cold with him.

Can you spot the 2.5" binatang (animal)?

Sunday
Waldemar's cold is worse and the night has been ragged. I head to church without him. We have a quiet lunch and afternoon together. It's nice to have a pause in the week.

Robin comes by for a visit, picking up a steam cleaner to lift the dirt off the tile floors in his new rental. He's a German artist and designer: we understand why he wants to walk barefoot in the house ... without blackening his foot soles.

He explains: "My helper doesn't even sweep: he just mops the floor with one bucket of water. It doesn't matter what I ask him to do." Instructions don't necessarily the routines helpers adopt around here. We understand that, too. (Our trusty old Craiglist-Seattle Roomba is set on a timer. This lifesaver automatically vacuums our tiles and rugs every day.)

Monday
We've had 3 meetings by 2:00. The driver has gone to town to pick up the pictures left at the framer and walked the yard dog. Today, lunch for the team is chicken, rice, and vegetables - again. With Monday meetings starting at 7am, I don't have time to show the helper new dishes.

W and I make a quick run to the store. We jettison our evening plans for a walk to a neighborhood cafe and stay in for a simple supper: store-made dumplings in broth. Satisfying. W is nursing his cold and is hoarse by evening. I made lava chocolate cake on Saturday when W came home, so we have two for dessert.

On the other side of the world, my extended family is meeting in British Columbia to say goodbye to my Uncle Otto, who died over a week ago. His lifelong best friend is a pastor and performs the funeral. From far away, we pray for his wife, children, and grandchildren, as well as for my mom and her remaining sibling. Life is short. A life well-lived is worth celebrating.

Tuesday
It's date day, technically our day off. First, we do an initial reading of our talk for Sunday, when we'll speak together at BIC. One of the day guards models his raincoat as we head out of the neighborhood.

Out of Africa: 1976?

Our first stop is the picture frame shop from last week. One man will replace broken frames and glass on a few paintings. The other (more creative) one will stretch and frame four pictures my mom bought in Tanzania in the 1970s. The oil paints are still fresh and look new: they've been rolled up for +45 years in her cool clean house.

There's a new mall in town. It takes a while to get there from the second frame shop. It's not too distant. Most downtown roads are winding and one-way, with limited right turns permitted. (We drive on the left here, so cross-traffic turns are to the right.) Driving is a lot farther than walking and takes at least as long.

A few old buildings remain from colonial Dutch occupation

At the food court upstairs in the mall, we each order a sandwich. (Of all the choices!) The "toasted" baguette is microwaved with meat, mushroom, and sauce inside so it's soft and ... well, not the crisp French or German taste we're craving. It fills us up and doesn't taste bad.

We walk around the Western-style construction and explore all 3 floors, but agree that we're still not - and probably never will be - "mall people" or shoppers. It's still nice to be out and about together. We share a mango drink before heading to the car.

Canned products with pork in them are rare, separated from other cans with a shelf divider.

W has seen a little grocer on his walks, so we stop to buy a few small things to support them before heading home. They have some expat goods that we might be hungry for in the future.

Foreign baby formula ("milk) and cigarettes - an unbeatable health combination behind the cashier

It's also the second day of clove-picking in our backyard for a 5-person crew of men. One is a friend of the driver. Two teens climb up 40' into the tree. The crew paid a small fee for taking the flowers/fruit. We split the money between the house and outside helpers, with the proviso that I get my own little jar of cloves for the kitchen. Done.

Cloves, fresh from the tree

They're so pretty. The helper spreads the flowers to dry upstairs in the rooftop laundry. "We need sun," she says. "The sun will dry them."

But what can you do? It's another overcast day. The guys work until 3pm and hike out of the yard with big sacks of cloves over the shoulders of the youngest.

I fall fast asleep for an afternoon nap, my first in ages. Feels so good ...

Read more:
*Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever. Cry out, “Save us, God our Savior; gather us and deliver us from the nations, that we may give thanks to your holy name, and glory in your praise.” Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting.

Then all the people said “Amen” and “Praise the Lord.” 1 Chronicles 16:34-36 NIV

*We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love be with us, Lord, even as we put our hope in you. Psalm 33:20-22 NIV

*May God continue to bless us; let all the ends of the earth revere him. Psalm 67:7 ESV

*They did not thirst when he led them through the deserts; he made water flow for them from the rock. Isaiah 48:21 ESV

*I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:18-19 ESV

*Let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift. Revelation 22:17 ESV

Moravian Prayer: Our God, you quench our eternal thirst. You love us as your most precious creation and water is our most precious resource. May we be good stewards of both the water of the well and of your living water.

Father, may we rest in the assurance of your love as shown to us in Jesus. May we strive to emulate the selfless love of Christ Jesus. Fill us with your spirit and enflame our hearts with your love. Amen.

We care because He cares

Beautiful batik fabrics: every region of Indonesia has their own patterns

Sunday, January 28, 2018

After leading the service at BIC, friends old and new hang around for an hour.

Sheila reminds us of why we trust and obey God. Her talk is about Sarah (Genesis 18), whose long wait for a son and doubting laughter turned to joyful laughter and hope. God alone knows what is coming and is powerful enough to do what pleases him. (It doesn't matter if his purpose and actions feel impossible to us.)

Sometimes you just have to put your feet up and rest

The lunch group that's invited me has long since left, so I walk home to make something to eat. Gypsy is delirious with happiness to see me walk in the gate. That's the joy of having a dog.

Monday

Starting with a call at 7, the day moves through the study at 9:30 into the team meeting at 11:30. From our office, we hear the laughter continue on the porch, and the chatter of friends connecting and doing life together. It's balm to my heart.

Simon usually videos the studies, but today the guys turn
the camera on him. 

We have lunch, a simple meal of chicken, rice, and vegetables. The cauliflower and buttered crumbs don't quite taste as expected. The first few times, meals are experimental - but they seem to settle down with a suggestion here and there.

Tuesday

We get wonderful news. I haven't said much about our 2-week-old granddaughter. After a series of tests, she's given a clean bill of health and our initial concerns are laid aside. Thanks be to God for the prayers of so many friends for baby Mac.

Today it's lawn and tree-cutting day. I tape a Sharpee marker to an old broom handle and draw lines on three thick branches of the guava tree. The gardener climbs up into the top of the tree and begins to disrupt the ant highway to our roof. 

It's an old tree and I hate to cut it. We ignored the garden when we first moved in and the branches shot 25' into the sky, even getting tangled in the retired electric wires overhead. Months ago, the last time we pruned, the tree responded with a burst of new shoots from every cut. I'm hoping for the same: maybe we, rather than the fruit bats, will be harvesting the tree if the fruit grows nearer the ground.

It's taken me a long time to decide which branches to take out and where to make the cuts. Every pruning remakes the shape. Today's decisions will show up in the history of the tree, decades from now.

Thud! Thud! Guava is a very dense wood and very heavy. It feels like mini-earthquakes as the branches fall to the ground. The dog runs to my office door and lies down near me. Pak Lili drags the branches and rakes away the leaves for the rest of the day.

A pragmatic choice - 2 little ovens in the space of one = cheaper and double the capacity. The gas canisters sit behind the ovens.

Meanwhile, the helper is baking and cooking. Today she's making bread and stewing the pumpkin from the garden. When she leaves, the kitchen will be clean and quiet.

In the afternoon, the book group meets to watch a movie remake of a book they read before I joined. Robert Redford (the women sigh that he's still handsome) and Jane Fonda (I think she's still beautiful) play elderly friends and neighbors who have lost their spouses.

It feels a bit close to home, watching the movie characters' children refuse to let their parents be together. That's happened to various people we know: the self-interest of the children results in a lonely future for the parent, especially because middle-aged children are wrapped up in their own lives and problems.

Afterward, the women sit in the living room and on the porch, sharing how we grew up and relate to our own families. And we respond to the film. By the time we get home, it's evening. I edit another paper and - ah, blessed rest.

Wednesday

I've left the keys in the door, so the helper knocks on my window to ask me to let her in. What? It's 8am already? Today, I must finish grading the week's assignments from an online course in the States. After an hour of work in my office, the alarm rings.

It's my heads up for a meeting of Yayasan Jari, a project started by local doctors dealing with the post-traumatic effects of violence against women and children. They've developed a training course for children and parents, designed to teach boundaries and ways to protect themselves from abuse and domestic violence.

By 9, Alice and I are on our way to town to the meeting. 

The strange quickly becomes normal. A 3-wheeler motorcycle "pickup truck" with someone sitting on the back, holding the furniture they're transporting. I almost didn't take a picture, until I remembered how wild that seemed when we first arrived...

The house for the Jari gathering is beautiful, a mix of old colonial style and modern architecture. The high concrete walls around the property block the noise. The courtyard is stunning, but honestly, everywhere you look, the house has touches of creativity and beauty. There are 1930s art deco stained glass windows, old teak trim, and marble floors.

Dr Hanna and her team introduce Jari to a group of about 20 - and there's a meal of course. Nothing in Indonesia happens without food! I am inspired by these locals who are changing their communities. This is such a worthy endeavor - I'm glad to be a small part of it.

I skip lunch when I get home, working in my office until evening. I've had to refuse a chamber orchestra concert tonight - but there's only so much time for life and learning in a day.

Read more:

*I will sing to the Lord, for he is highly exalted. Exodus 15:1

*I will exalt you, my God the King;     I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever. Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom. Psalm 145:1-3

*I will give them one heart, and put a new spirit within them. Ezekiel 11:10

*If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! 2 Corinthians 5:17

*See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. 1 John 3:1

Moravian Prayer: All praise to you, holy Parent! You lead and protect us as a loving father. You nurture and guide us as a devoted mother. You cherish us as your precious children. We are blessed to be your family.

Giver of life, through the death and resurrection of your Son, you have breathed redemption into the dark corners of our lives. May we, your church, carry your healing breath out into world to speak life to the hopeless. Amen.

Soul music

Saturday, January 27, 2018
Breakfast is late: I'm in the mood for lentil soup and that takes a while. I put in smoke flavor since we try to be pork-free at the house. After an hour, the lentils still aren't mushy but they taste great.

After I wash my soup bowl, I fill a mug with hot water for tea. EEEEk. The third big spider I've seen this week is sitting in the sink. That's it! I splash the boiling water on it. Gone. (I refill for tea.)

W killed the first spider last weekend. The second showed up dead on the bathroom floor last night. (I debated leaving it there but tossed it out.) And then this morning, another. There must have been a new hatch of spiders. As long as they don't bother me at night, I'm ok.

The yard dog has an ear infection. We've been putting meds into its ear for a week, but it's still sore and inflamed. The kids grow up, and suddenly you're taking care of animals. What's the matter with us?

Never mind. Gypsy's the perfect dog. He lives outside and barks when someone looks over the fence or comes to the gate. He sleeps on the porch or at the neighbor's. When the gate's open, he doesn't run away. This morning I walked to the Little Free Library to post a notice, and he came right back into our yard when I whistled. Good boy. Looks mean but likes us. He'd protect me if someone attacked.

Curled up on the sofa upstairs, the storage area glares down at me. Supplies, suitcases, and boxes are stacked in the loft above the sitting room. There's a long stretch of rail: do I have a batik or something to hang over the rail? Let's go see.

On my office shelf, I find a long piece of upholstery fabric, a gift from my friend Sumathi over a year ago. I drape it over the railing and it fits end to end with an inch to spare. Hey, I couldn't have found a better piece if I'd gone to a shop. It reminds me of her. (Win.) It hides the clutter. (Win.) And it's beautiful. (Another win.)

In the evening, 3 friends and I head via Uber to my first concert by the Philharmonic Orchestra of Bandung. Traffic is not bad as we have left the neighborhood before the supper rush. We are at the venue in plenty of time. There's no concert hall with convenient access in Bandung, so the orchestra has set up in the Hilton ballroom.

The lobby is beautiful, the circular marble staircase perfectly sculpted, and the quiet buzz of a classical concert audience is the same worldwide. Five of us sit in the courtyard with a cup of tea or coffee, waiting for the doors to open. And then we have our picture taken, with dramatic uplighting, of course.

We chat with a lot of people and make introductions all around. Dr Hanna knows everyone and I greet people I have met in other venues. What a great place to network. I introduce a journalist friend to someone and am happy for the evening: connection made.

I have a total flaw that makes me nervous about going to concerts: I get the giggles if the music is bad. Maybe the musicians think they're better than they are and try something out of their reach. Sometimes the score itself is awful, in my opinion. Or an oboe or clarinet squeaks and the violins can't synch their notes.

Do I giggle because I used to hate playing in recitals? Because I heard so many bad variations as a music teacher?  I don't know. But regardless, I can't help myself. Occasionally, I've bitten the inside of my cheeks raw, gouged holes in my palm with my fingernails, and pinched my sides. (Doesn't help.) If this performance is not good, I'll be an embarrassment to my friends. I have no idea what to expect.

"Are they supposed to be this loud?" asks my neighbor, listening to the orchestra warm up. They're practising on stage.

No. Most times, the musicians are tuning, taking a few breaths. We may hear some toots or swipes of the bow, but normally the musicians have warmed up backstage. This is a full-blown racket, including percussion, but maybe there's no backstage here. I take a deep breath. (And exhale with relief. The comment doesn't set me off.)

The bell rings in the lobby. A brass ensemble serenades from the back of the room as the last attendees are seated. When the orchestra tunes, I'm more tense than ever. Some instruments are starting really far from pitch ... and not everyone sounds on target when they're done.

The US ambassador greets the musicians on this joint project

Peer Gynt and Bald Mountain are classics everyone knows and likes. It's a bit of a shaky start with the first two pieces, but the performance gets stronger.

As the orchestra reconfigures for the third selection, many in the audience go out to the lobby. We stay put for a local premiere: Old Man Hauling Bamboo. Its lively harmonies describe an old porter carrying bamboo sticks, earning funds to support his family. Families are close-knit and work together in this society.

During intermission, someone snaps my picture with the American ambassador to Indonesia. Becoming a recent citizen, that's more of a surprise to me than to others. (I've never heard of the Canadian ambassador showing up anywhere I go.) In the break, I also get a chance to congratulate Fauzie Wiriadisastra, one of the "Bamboo" composers (already introduced to me before the concert by Dr Hanna.)

I close my eyes for the second half and am sucked into the music of another premiere, a viola concerto. Krakatoa describes an active Indonesian volcano that has had four significant eruptions in less than 200 years.

Acoustic "teeth" help balance the sound

The music describes the rumblings, hissing, and tumult. The viola pushes us and pulls us and the kettle drums and bass violins drag us into the growling earth. I'm scared, in awe, and riveted to the music. When it's done, all I can think is, "Oh, I want to hear it again." But I'm glad it's not the last piece because ... well, could I sleep tonight, living within miles of active volcanos?

Before we leave, I talk to Stacy Garrop, the "volcano" composer, the organizer ("Would you like to come to our fundraiser?" she asks. "Thank you for asking me, but sadly we have too many other projects"), and the viola soloist, Michael Hall. I come away with 3 stories and a glimpse of their passions and motivations.

My heart is pumping, my blood flowing. How could I have forgotten how much I need music? Raised in a family of musicians, it's easy to take for granted the swoop of melody and the feeling of being surrounded by harmony and rhythm. It's good to be immersed again.

We get home in rough traffic, about 11pm. The dog tries to jump on me but my knee comes up so he gives up. He brings a leaf (his sign of happiness) instead. I fall into bed and am asleep in 4 heartbeats.

Sunday
Reza asked me earlier this week if I'd lead a church service. I've been thinking about how the loose liturgy of a Protestant service can lull the participants into familiar routines. This morning, it's too late to hunt down the notes I made about changing things up a little.

Before the meeting, when the leaders pause for prayer together, I encourage the worship leaders to project joyful energy. They've chosen such marvelous music. Sure enough, the congregation becomes energized by them - and fully engaged.

Found in the yard: a 30" stem

We have only one announcement. I ask attendees to close their eyes if they're willing, to hear the scripture, and consider its meaning. This morning when I woke, I read Luke 15 = Jesus' parable of the lost sheep. After I read it aloud, we pause quietly for a few minutes to reflect on the passage.

Whew, we have a lot of guests this morning, including some from the USA, Burundi, Australia, Japan, and Indonesia. We take 5 minutes to say hello. Finally, Reza suggests a whistle; everyone settles into their seats again.

Sheila is speaking. Based on the story of God's promises to Abraham and Sarah, she encourages us to rely on God's faithfulness, his understanding of our doubts, his competence, and his miraculous intervention.

In closing, the congregation offers their takeaways. First, I hand the mike to a few of our study participants for a brief synopsis of what they heard. Others jump in. (This is the part of our weekly studies where I learn the most.) And then the congregation is blessed and dismissed in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

A good group stays to visit for nearly an hour afterward, talking, sharing life, praying for each other. I've been invited to lunch but by the time I'm done, the women are long gone. My orange shoes walk me home to a relaxing afternoon.

The lizard who lives in our bedroom is now 7" long. I eye him apprehensively as he jerks himself up the white plaster to the ceiling. How I dislike these wall-running amphibians. What if one falls on me in the night? (It's happened to many friends.) Yuck.

Yet how lucky am I? There may be no lizards in the houses in the Canadian city where I was born but it's -21C/-5F there today.  In contrast, this morning, we were shivering at church because it was windy and 22C/72F. Friends exclaim how cold it is and that we really need our jackets today. True. I'm considering putting a hot water bottle in the bed tonight.

Read more:
*Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! Psalm 27:14

*The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. Psalm 111:10

*You have heard of the endurance of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful. James 5:11

Moravian Prayer: Merciful God, in times of turmoil and distress we pray for the patience and courage that we sometimes need just to make it through the day. Provoke us to ask for help from you and from those around us. Amen.

Life and death

Memorial page in my prayer journal

My youngest uncle has flown away: Dad sends a message that Uncle Otto died in his sleep on Thursday. What a shock. Hardest is that I can't go home to hug my mom, who has lost her youngest brother. The family connects (as we always do) over the continents and miles. We pray for peace and comfort for our aunt and cousins.

Friday, January 19, 2018
I have no idea where I'm going today. A neighborhood lady has invited me and she picks up another woman and me at 10.

"Dress is casual," she says. In this culture, that doesn't mean T-shirts and jeans.

It's a joint meeting of the three women's groups on the hill. "Group II is very small," I'm told. As women move, they are not recruiting new members. The arisan may be a dying institution but I enjoy it.

The women are a lot of fun - and still beautiful as they age. They're distinguished and accomplished: I'm surrounded by a general's wife on one side and a former professor (aged 94) on the other. So honored to get to know them.

Sunday, January 21, 2018
After church and W's final theology class ("What is Heaven like?"), we head to Bumi Sangkurian and lunch. It's always a treat to be with friends on the weekend.

In the afternoon, we hand out team evaluations, meeting at a new gelato shop. Bandung is modernizing! Gelato on our hill ... wow.

I'm amazed at parents' lack of safety concerns: a two-year old walks across the high walkway to the "selfie house." (Yes, there's a little house set up for taking pictures). Her mom and dad don't worry that she could fall 5' to the ground. She walks and runs back and forth, negotiating the stairs up and down from the bridge on either end (no railings there either) ... while I hold my breath.

And then she poses under the ice-cream sign as proficiently as any teenager. "She's probably seen someone posing before," says DrH.

W and I relax at home in the evening and get ready for the week. We talk to the kids off and on: our new granddaughter is in her second week, and seems to be doing well.

Monday
After an encouraging 7am conference call with a friend, it's time to give instructions. This is the part of help I don't like: sometimes it seems like more work to have someone around than to do things myself.

But the helper has arrived. I start the kettle boiling for tea. Cookies are waiting in the fridge (you can't leave them out if they have butter in them). She sets out dishes and food so we're ready for the study. After, she'll make our team lunch of chicken, rice, vegetables, and salad.

"Someone's at the gate!" The young man saw our
Little Free Library online and tracked it down.
We have the first one in Indonesia, thanks to Dr Wuri;
he has the second.

IbuS has bought vegetables from the weekend market: broccoli, carrots, and a variety of things I don't recognize. Between everything else, she'll wash and chop fruit and vegetables. There's a constant "food drain" because we have so much company. I don't mind cooking and often make supper when we're home.

The study is on Luke 15 and our conversation is lively. The porch rings with laughter, chatter, and prayers. Jesus is such a counter-cultural person; he doesn't care too much about local rules or do what is expected by others. His focus is on what God asks of him. That puts him on the trouble radar of "important" people, who are most interested in maintaining their political or religious status. (Some things stay the same, even 2000 years later.)

We have a team meeting over lunch. We're deep into the New Year, setting up the challenges for 2018. Each of us are expecting non-profit volunteers or houseguests in the coming months. Our homes, schedules, and hopefully our hearts are filling up quickly.

When you order food, you never know what you get.
This is a mango smoothie. (Ugh, I hate breakfast cereal.)

Tuesday
It's all hands on deck. The gardener comes at 7am and is busy clipping away the abundance of grass, hedges, and weeds. It takes him all day just to get a few basics under control. During rainy season, the plants race upward.

The guava tree, which looks quite bare at eye level, has grown to the third story roofline. A wide freeway of ants goes up the trunks into the ceiling tiles. By the time I notice, it's too late in the day to fix it. Next week, the gardener will have a big job: cutting off the huge trunks that carry the branches to the roof. Meanwhile, the grass and trees will spurt to outgrow him until subdued the following week.

2' blossoms look like chandliers

I edit all morning and approve a dissertation, while IbuS cooks and bakes. She's freezing fruit and prepping food for the next movie night. Cleaning up the dirt the wind blows in is her ongoing chore. Between, lunch has to be cooked and tidied for everyone working or visiting.

Later, we go through the bedrooms upstairs and down, checking bedding and supplies. Before we know it, it's 3:00 and everyone goes home. (Often, that's when the pace picks up for W and me, doing projects or preparing teaching materials.)

This afternoon, I'm grading: the online class has submitted their assignments. Some students have put in a lot of effort. Others slide through with minimal engagement. The grades reflect their work.

Wednesday
I head for town in the afternoon just to poke around. I rarely get a shopping day to myself but I'm worn out within an hour or two. I buy some toys for hospital visits and run a few errands. It's nice to pull into the driveway, to be jumped on and greeted by the yard dog, and kick off "outside" sandals to slip into my house flip-flops.

Senta's selfie on a not-so-sturdy bamboo platform above the valleys

Thursday
HURRAH! I get to walk again. It's my first long walk since a hike in Bhutan last December. Almost a month has gone by without being in the hills. I breathe in the cool air (19o today brrr) and drink in the lush foliage.

It's not long (4.5 miles/7 km) or steep (200 meters elevation), but the first hill takes my breath away. We stop to take pictures and chat, so it goes by quickly.

We're walking up to a tourist lookout, completely deserted during the week but apparently buzzing on weekends.

The ticket booth is empty but a man hurries up to us (where did he come from?) and asks for Rp80,000 each.

"I don't think so," says Senta, who is leading today. "It said Rp5,000. Why so much?"

"A car is Rp10,000." The man assumes we parked a car (we didn't) but his math doesn't add up, regardless. Ok. So we give him 5,000 (40c) each, take the slips of paper he hands us, and walk further up to take some pictures.

I ask a little girl how old she is: she's my granddaughter's age - 6. But she speaks only the local language, not the country's bahasa Indonesia. She follows me around on her 4-wheeler. I show her a picture of our granddaughter and then snap her picture. She is fascinated to see herself.

Someone else asks her a question in Sundanese. She replies that she's not yet going to school. We are an hour from Bandung, but in this isolated village, modern conventions are not yet expected.

We're in farm country. We walk past field hands bagging harvested broccoli and cauliflower. "How much do they cost?" we ask. They tell us to see their boss in town, 2 kilometers (1.3 miles) down the road.

When we find the sorting area (a covered patio), we haggle until we have more than enough. 5 heads of cauliflower and 6 of broccoli cost me under $2. (Rp25,000. At the store, each big head will cost the same as the abundance today.) They put it all in a plastic bag, which I sling over my shoulder for the last hike to the car. The others get their own as well.

School uniforms, giggles, and screams as the dog and I walk by.

We stop on the way home for lunch at the Mandarin, a Chinese restaurant. It serves cheap and tasty food. We are stuffed for $7.50 each - and groan at our full bellies as we walk back to the car. (We just replenished every calorie we walked off!)

A few brave boys pet Gypsy: most Muslim kids are terrified of dogs.

The helper is not excited to see me come in the door with more work, an hour before she goes home. We wash the vegetables, cook a vegetable broth with the stems, and sort the florets onto trays for the freezer. The only frozen vegetables available in shops are mixed carrots, corn, peas, or edamame, or corn.

"Why would we buy frozen food?" the helper shrugs when I ask her about the limited selection. "We can find it in the market any day."

It's the traffic to and from the store that puts me off. When people drop by, I prefer to have something at hand rather than spending an hour going to the store, before cleaning and cooking.

In the early evening, DrH and I head back across the ridge between mountains to the next hill. We're meeting to study scripture and explore what it means to serve God. Eleven of us are reading Exodus 35, considering Sabbath. Imagine! a God who mandates a holiday and rest every week.

"Oh, we wish we could find a community like that," they say. "... a place where we could relax together and study God's Word together."

We point out that is what we are doing tonight. Oh right. So refreshing for the heart.

Friday, February 26, 2018
I need time to pray and think things through. It's time to head to Rumah Doa, a prayer house in the hills above the city. I love going there. Only one or two of us are on the grounds, beside the security guards.

The view from my prayer room is peaceful

I'm thinking about my Uncle Otto's life, about all he saw and experienced in his lifetime. Formed in his mother's womb, he came crying into this world. He survived toddlerhood, childhood mischief, and teenaged explorations. Then came marriage and family - I remember noticing when I was a kid how mich he was in love with my aunt.

He worked hard and loved his family consistently. He was hard-wired with a sense of fun and pranks. And now friends and family are left behind, while he gets to see what he has believed.

Heaven's welcome makes me envious, mixed with the grief that we will not see him again - and that his family will continue without him. Memories seem a poor substitute for a warm hug and his big smile and twinkling eyes. But the memories I have of him are good.

On the way back to town, I stop along the street to buy English and Spanish lavender. Lembang is lined with nurseries, but I have to go to a few plant stalls before I find lavender. The local version doesn't smell; it just looks pretty. The sellers try to give me rosemary but there's already some in our garden. The car fills with the scent, a comfort to me.

I'm home only a short time. The helper is attending a wedding out of town, so all is quiet. At 12, I pick up a neighbor and we head to lunch with the book club. I'm growing to love and appreciate these women. Today, we're in a tropical paradise, a home and yard built by Frances and her husband.

Everywhere I look, there's a treasure, a memory of travel, and nature. The guest room is astonishing: the antique Chinese bed is draped in sheer mosquito netting, a little room within a room. The huge windows let light into every space and the landscaping is dense enough that no curtains are needed.

One gem is the roofless master bath, overhung by a guava tree. "I can hear the fruit dropping into the room," says Frances.

I can hardly take it in, but the house soothes me and refreshes me with its beauty.

We are celebrating 3 January birthdays. The women enjoy being together and it's so interesting to hear what they think of the book we're reading. We talk about meaning and our purpose - why are we here? And can we ever really understand God's plan in setting us (uniquely as ourselves) in our surroundings?

Frances packs up cheese, salad, and twists a golden 5" seedpod from the chocolate tree. I'll see if we can coax a few plants from the seeds.

6" cocoa tree pod

It's almost 5pm before we're home again. The thought of my family getting together to share food, memories, and grief without me weighs heavily. I think of my auntie, learning to negotiate life without my uncle. My cousins missing their dad. My mom losing her little brother. It's a lot to take in.

And the ants are on the rampage. The kitchen is full of little soldiers, marching from ceiling to counter to floor and back. I wage war - and think I'm winning. Briefly. I hear a cat or a civit (like a mongoose) stalking across the roof. I can ignore it if I sleep with earplugs, I think.

Outside, the wind clatters the bamboo wind chimes and the metal chimes swing and sing along.

Read more:
*Listen to my words, Lord, consider my lament. Hear my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.

For you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness; with you, evil people are not welcome. The arrogant cannot stand in your presence. You hate all who do wrong; you destroy those who tell lies. The bloodthirsty and deceitful you, Lord, detest.

But I, by your great love, can come into your house; in reverence I bow down toward your holy temple. Lead me, Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies—make your way straight before me. Psalm 5:1-8 NIV

*Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it. Proverbs 3:27

*You are my servant, I have chosen you and not cast you off. Isaiah 41:9

*The gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable. Romans 11:29

*How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? 1 John 3:17

Moravian Prayer: Gracious Provider, help us to deeply see the needs of others. Gift us with your vision—a vision that looks beyond circumstances and sees into the soul of a fellow child of God. Stir our hearts and hands to help.

Bless our congregation, Lord, as we honor the unique gifts that everyone brings to worship and service. May our community of faith rest in the assurance that wherever you call us to go, your Holy Spirit goes before us. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.