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.