Borneo Wife

My Village Trip with the Kids--Part 1

2012-02-20T22:14:00.005-08:00

I pushed the clothes and diapers deep into my backpack, my nervousness pushing its way into my eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” Brad asked me as I packed for my three-day trip with the kids to a small village interior.

Brad would be flying us and the other MAF family into Lebusan, in Borneo’s mountainous, remote, rain forest. Then he’d fly his MAF Caravan back out again to finish his schedule, then return home to work on a major project for his master’s degree.

The kids and I would continue in a truck on a rocky, unpaved road through the mountains to the village of Mahak Baru. There, the other MAF wife, Marieke and I would talk to teenagers and young moms in a series of seminars throughout the three days.

The brave, adventurous soul in me wanted to do this. I knew the kids would have fun. I knew the ministry was worthwhile. I knew the people would be amazing.

But the mom in me, the one who would have a 50-50 chance of being vomited on by my kids on the airplane ride, wasn’t so sure. How well would the kids sleep with no fans in a wooden house, mosquitos buzzing in our ears? Would they get sick? Would they scream through their cold-water bucket baths?

Would they behave…and if they didn’t, what would the others think, when we’d come there to share about childcare and mothering? Would I even remember the Indonesian words for our presentations?

The story. Remember the story. That’s what I told myself as I marked things off the list, trying to fit them all into my backpack.

To find out what happened, come back in a couple of days to hear the rest of the story.

Trading in My Someday Life

2012-02-15T23:31:00.000-08:00

The black numbers press hard onto the page of my day planner. My scribbles and lists and plans swirl around the numbers that won’t be hurried.

Just one month, I tell myself as I wipe the sweat of the night’s heat in the middle of another forever-long power outage.

One month until I get to turn my passport into a smiling American customs agent. One month until I get to see my family. One month until I get a month-long break from this life I kinda chose.

Sure, I chose the exotic island on the other side of the world; the chance to make a difference; the cute faces of my kids. But I didn’t exactly choose the smells of my neighbor’s perpetual fish-drying and manure-laying; or the rolling blackouts for hours at a time; or the screaming of my kids as they fight over a balloon.

Some days, I live for the Someday Life. The trip back to the States. The out-of-diapers days that will surely happen (right)? The possibility of living in a place with clean streets and nice parks and fewer yucky smells.

Someday I will get more sleep. Someday I will get a white Christmas. Someday…

But then again… I’ve already forgotten last week’s cute things that the kids said. I watched an orphan boy snuggle with my little girl today. And I receive nearly gifts every day from special friends who have become like family.

Yes—next month with its reunions and grandparent snuggling and food-indulging and clothes-shopping will be amazing. But today’s swirling life of kids and opportunities and lessons is filled with a Now life I never want to see end.

What do you most enjoy about your Now Life?

photo credit, danielmoyle

My Valentine's Day

2012-02-12T21:27:00.001-08:00

Sharing love notes...

Snuggling with my favorite gifts...

Shaping little hearts...

Teaching more than words...

Waiting for the one who takes my breath away to come home...

Believing in a Love that never ends...

How did you spend your Day of Love?

photo credit, jcgoforth

Some Things Do Change

2012-02-11T23:24:00.000-08:00

At first, I drive right past it, missing it. The house has changed since I’d been there over a year ago, I think as I pull off the road, parking in the mud.

Dusty bricks surround what used to be the empty ground of the house on stilts. The half-finished, bare, concrete-floored home of my Indonesian friend used to look like a bombed out building to me. Like half a house. But not because of what had been blown away. No—because of what was never there to start with.

I haven’t seen my friend much since the battles raged stronger in her own life. I met her back when she was a single, divorced, Arabic-praying mom of a little girl, living with her parents and other siblings. They lived a half-family together in poverty, missing a daddy for my friend’s little girl, missing real faith in a God who wanted more for them. In that half-house, they’d serve me flat Coke and store-bought cookies for my visits, all the little kids looking up at me with round eyes while I sipped.

A lot of things changed in a couple of years for her and her family. My friend got a job, found friends who cared for her, changed her beliefs to the ones that gave her hope, the ones that told her God loved her in all the messiness, the ones that made her nominally religious dad forbid her from her new life.

Then sadly, she got pregnant, no husband, another mouth to feed, another reason for her dad to hate her. And she ran away to another city, then back home where her parents grudgingly let her live. Then her dad got sick, couldn’t work. And she went from fallen, infidel daughter to bread winner cook at a faraway jungle logging camp, her income feeding seven mouths in that half-house.

And not much had really changed. More poverty. More missing fathers. More empty Arabic words uttered only on holy days.

But today, more has changed than just the bricks. I try to get my bearings in this new downstairs that used to be a dirt yard. The son that was born with no father calls his grandmother “Mama.” My friend brings flat Coke in small glasses for my kids and me. The picture of my friend’s father sits prominently in the nearly empty new room—sunglasses covering his eyes.

He’s gone. A month ago, he died from his long-time battle with diabetes.

I sip the flat Coke and listen to his widow surprise with me with all the other changes. Stories of how her husband worked hard at the end of his life to finish building the house for his family. Stories of how he allowed the pastor and others from nearby churches to visit him in his dying days, pray with him, care for the family, give him hope he’d never had. His face shone, peaceful, like he was a young man again on the day he died. Or so his widow said.

This was the man who made his grown daughter choose between new faith and family, who shouted hate in her face, who welcomed her back so she could wake up before dawn and fall asleep after midnight, cooking and cleaning for lumber workers to feed her whole family, while her mother raised her children.

Did he choose hope's change in the end? In all their lives, in all that non-change through the years, in all that was missing in their half-house—did he finally find something whole?

I don’t know.

“All religions are the same, have the same goal,” the widow, who wears a head covering, tells me, and I nod at its empty half-truth.

But I’m done with the half-living, with the watching people try hard in religion, with the false efforts of people who look like they’ve been in a battle when really, they are just missing the rest of the picture.

And so I bow my head down at the concrete floor and pray…for more change.

photo credit, Esparta

More Lies You Shouldn't Believe if You Work Overseas

2012-02-09T22:23:00.000-08:00

Today, we’ll continue to look at the lies you shouldn’t believe when living overseas.

Our first Christmas morning in Indonesia, we were recovering from a nasty stomach bug. Our Christmas phone call with family kept cutting out. And the package from my parents hadn’t made it in time. It certainly didn’t feel like Christmas, but then life had stopped feeling like anything familiar when we’d moved here six months previous.

And then the knock on our door. It was our Muslim Indonesian neighbors coming to celebrate Christmas the Indonesian way—by visiting us. I hadn’t even taken a shower yet. We learned later that the local custom involves receiving guests all day long and feeding them a nice meal. Our friends were gracious—they never mentioned the meal that they may have been expecting.

But in the next few years, we’ve learned how to celebrate both our own American traditions and the local Indonesian ones. It’s busy, can be a little crazy, and we don’t have this balance of culture figured out yet.

But we’ve learned to see the lies as we grow.

Lie #5: You have to give up your own culture.

To assume this is even possible is to not fully understand the depth of culture. It’s not something you can just remove like a jacket. Culture is woven into our ways of doing, thinking, feeling, observing, judging, valuing, spending, planning, sleeping, eating, loving.

To expect to completely go native may leave you feeling inadequate, discouraged, lonely. You don’t have to become them to love them. You don’t have to give up who you are to have something to offer.

Lie #6: You DON’T have to give up your own culture.

On the flip side, you rob yourself of being effective if you assume that your ways are always the best, assume that you can’t change and so you just won’t, and to assume that your culture is never offensive to others.

Let yourself change. Try different ways of thinking like you might try the local cuisine. It may seem a bit strange at first. But after some time, it’s not so bad after all. You may even discover that some of the local culture fits your own personal culture better than your original culture did.

Lie #7: You’re NOT making a difference, so you might as well just go home.

Maybe you expected to be feeding the poor, saving lives, healing the sick—or at least that’s what everyone back home thinks you’re doing. But now you’re just changing diapers, shopping at five different stores for your groceries and chatting with your neighbor about her sick baby, and maybe you don’t even really understand what she’s saying. And it feels so Less Than. Less Than you’d hoped to do. Less Than is needed. Less Than you can possibly do.

Don’t let the lie convince you that you are what you do. Still not convinced? Take some time to watch "It’s a Wonderful Life" to remember how we each become a valuable part of the world around us.

Lie # 8: It’s not wrong, it’s just different.

This lie comes with a half-truth. Many things that seem weird in the local culture are really just different. But some things—like poor treatment of women and children or the poor—really are wrong. You may see it at first—when you’re fresh and notice everything around you. Don’t let yourself simply accept the ills as you adjust to the culture. If it makes you mad, try to do something—anything—to change it.

photo credit, karindalziel

Lies You Shouldn't Believe as You Work Overseas

2012-02-07T22:08:00.000-08:00

Thanks for joining me as we examine the Thorny Issues of Living Overseas. We’ve looked at practical tips for making the move. Check those out here and here and here. We’ve talked about some of the realities of serving in a cross cultural setting.

Today we’ll unpack the lies that hinder us as we live and work overseas.

When I prepared to move to Indonesia over seven years ago, I did my homework. I talked to people who had lived overseas. I’d read books about other religions. I asked for packing lists from people who were there, in that distant land where I hoped to live.

But still, those lies creep into the truth and spread their poison in the culture stress. Today and next time, I’ll reveal the lies and give my advice on how to keep them from controlling your experience.

Lie #1: Everyone else is doing better than you.

In the midst of cultural stress, sickness, confusion, it’s easy to think that the other expats around you have got it figured out. You may work with people with varying backgrounds, some having been there for years, others new like you. Though the more experienced people may not be dealing with the culture shock of a newbie, it doesn’t mean they aren’t still struggling, or didn’t use to struggle with those things. Don’t let yourself become isolated by an impression that just isn’t true. Everyone struggles in the beginning and throughout. It’s not just you.

Lie #2: You can’t become close friends with the locals because they are just too different.

Certainly, cultural differences can divide, and some countries and cultures seem more divisive than others. But don’t assume that it’s not possible to find a friend. Give it time. Ask the questions. Peel off the masks—both theirs and yours. The treasure of a cross cultural relationship is well worth the effort.

On the flip side, don’t feel discouraged if you haven’t connected, on a deep level, with someone yet. Be patient. Keep trying. In the meantime, look for ways to connect with old friends or new expats so that you don’t feel lonely. And continue to seek locals who may be open for friendships, even if they don’t express it in a way that is familiar in your culture.

Lie #3: You are missing out on the real world…the one back home.

Maybe you’ve given up a certain career, a nice house, time with extended family, and a sense of belonging when you left your home country. And it can feel like you’re missing out on real life as you live a pseudo-life of strange cultural interactions.

To combat this lie, learn all you can about your new country. Read its history. Examine its art. Listen to its music. Explore its islands or cities or mountains or forests. And give it time for this lie to dissipate as you realize that your old world didn’t have it all after all.

Lie #4: We always do it this way, and it's the only right way.

If you’ve moved overseas with an organization, you have two cultures to jump into: the local country culture, and the local organization’s culture. That second one sneaks up on you. It’s caused by the expats in the organization trying to figure out how to join their own values and goals with the real and perceived limitations of living in the new country. You, as the newbie, just don’t understand the ways things are and the ways things have to be. Or so the mantra goes.

Sure, allow yourself to figure out this second culture and respect the experience and understanding that others have. But in the areas where you have the freedom to make your own lifestyle decisions, take the time to figure things out for yourself—even if they don’t look exactly like the local expat way of doing things.

Next time, I’ll unpack four more lies you shouldn’t believe.

photo credit, grisei

Secondhand Treasures~A Guest Post

2012-02-06T21:39:00.001-08:00

I button up the brown and pink flowered shirt on my daughter. I work fast before she squirms away to do busy toddler things. Wow. She looks just like Katie—my friend’s daughter, who wore this shirt a couple years ago, back when she was my daughter’s age.

My son, now 3, spent his first couple of years as a sort of third twin to another MAF friend’s twin boys, walking around in their hand-me-down clothes.

But what may look like second-hand things to others represent treasures in my life.

Even after years of training and preparing and months of packing, when I moved to Indonesia six years ago, I came without a lot of things...

Find out more at MAF's blog, where I'm guest posting today.

Part 3: Practical Tips for Moving Overseas

2012-02-02T17:16:00.000-08:00

Thanks for joining me for this series on the Realities of Living Overseas. Today, we’ll finish up my 10 Tips for Moving Overseas. For the first seven tips, check out Monday’s post and Wednesday’s post.

Nervous, I walked clumsily into the ocean from the white sandy beach, trying not to fall on my face. I was decked out in the SCUBA gear I’d rented—back heavy from the oxygen tank. Once I’d strapped on my flippers, I put my face into the water, unsure what exactly I’d see.

The sunken World War II ship off the coast of Bali nearly skimmed the surface, then extended deep into the dark waters. Colorful schools of fish weaved in and out of the algae and coral-covered metal pieces.

I was a brand-new diver who had gotten certified on the muddy bottom of an East Texas lake. Six weeks before, we’d moved to Indonesia, started language school and dived face first into a rocky year of transition. Already exhausted, we took a much-needed vacation to Bali.

That wreck dive was amazing—full of surprises, sprinkled with danger, ribbons of color swimming all around my trembling body.

And that’s about how I’d describe our first year overseas.

Today, we pick up on our last tips for moving overseas. (Go here for tips 1 through 3, and for tips 4 through 6).

7. Celebrate the victories.

As you pass a unit of language school, or finish learning how to drive on the other side of the road, or finally feel healthy again after a bout of stomach illness, make sure you celebrate. That first year can be full of what feels like failures. But remember to celebrate what you’ve accomplished, what you’ve learned, how far you’ve come.

8. Understand that you won’t understand…yet.

This new world you’ve entered may feel like Opposite World, as my friend, Rebecca Cannon puts it. You’ll be confused for a little while. But understanding can and will come with time and with openness to learning.

9. Let the hard stuff grow you.

I used to be the girl who ordered the same thing on the menu, thought onions were too spicy, and had never ever ridden on a motorcycle. But all of that changed within the first month. The other stuff—the deeper stuff in my soul—has changed gradually through the years of living in a world not my own.

It’s easier (at first anyway) to let the hard stuff embitter you. But if you’ll step into the water and look around, you’ll find treasures in the culture and within yourself.

10. Hang in there.

No matter how long you’ve lived in a place, some hard stuff won’t go away. BUT some of the hard stuff is hard because you’re in a transition. Everything’s different. You don’t understand. You’re tired. And you just left everyone who cares about you. Take it from me, who has made 15 major moves in my life. Any move to anywhere is stressful. Give yourself some time to adjust. Hang in there, and don’t forget tip number 5!

Next week, we’ll unpack some of the lies tbat sneak themselves into the suitcases when we move overseas.

photo credit, jeffwilcox

Part 2: Practical Tips for Moving Overseas

2012-01-31T17:01:00.001-08:00

This post continues my 10 Tips for Moving Overseas as part of my week-long series on the Thorny Issues of Living Overseas.

I can still remember the week we had no money. And no home. And no food. To make matters worse, it was our very first week in Indonesia. So, we knew no words either.

We were having problems with our ATM card and had to make middle-of-the-night calls to our bank to get things resolved, while we borrowed cash from friends. Our house wasn’t ready, so we lived in a small hotel where we’d eat the free breakfast buffet until we were overstuffed, because we didn’t have food (or money for food). Thankfully, most nights, another expat family would invite us over for dinner.

But after that hard first week, things got better. Our ATM card started working. We moved into the house MAF had rented for us. And we learned a few critical words in Indonesia.

From these hard things (and more that came later), there were lessons learned, growth that made us stronger, and humility that breeds compassion for others going through hard transitions. So, if that’s you, or someone close to you, here are my next three practical tips for Moving Overseas.

4. Be careful who you believe.

Find other friends, both expats and locals. But understand that the other expats may not truly know all the right answers. The person who has been there for three months longer than you may seem like the expert—they certainly know how to order a pizza on the phone and have figured out the money system. But that doesn’t mean they should become your cultural expert. Better to ask your local neighbor for those kinds of things.

5. Learn the language—for that day.

Believe me, I know how hard it is to learn a language. But remember that you don’t have to (and can’t possibly) learn it all in one day. So, focus on learning something that day. Try it out on the locals. Pat yourself on the back when you seem to have communicated something useful. Smile when you have no idea what they’re saying back to you. And laugh when you’ve called yourself a mosquito, like I did.

6. Take a vacation or a furlough.

It’s normal for life to be harder than it used to be for a while, though each day you’ll learn useful things that will make the next day smoother. But when you feel like you’re ready to give up after a particularly stressful spell, then go take a vacation. Go somewhere nice and beautiful with ice cream and hamburgers, if you can possibly manage it. Enjoy the best that the country has to offers—the beaches of Bali or the cool mountains of Java, or the nice malls of Jakarta. (Discover your own list of spots wherever you live.)

Or maybe you’re a couple of years into your term and you’re barely hanging on and you think there is no way you’re coming back to this place. Before you make a long-term decision when life is dark, consider taking a furlough to your home country. Rest. Spend time with family. Eat your favorite foods. Then take time to figure out if you want to return, or to move onto something else.

Missed tips yesterday's tips? Check them out here.

Practical Tips for Moving Overseas (or making any big change in life)

2012-01-28T21:51:00.000-08:00

This week, we'll continue to look at the realities of moving and living overseas.

Almost seven years ago, Brad and I sat in one of our favorite restaurants for our last meal. I knew I’d eat again, but I figured it would be years before I ate pizza or hamburgers or spaghetti. We were scheduled to leave for Indonesia the next day.

Those last few months were full of other “lasts.” Last turkey dinner. Last snowball fight. Last Christmas. Last time with family.

I knew what I was leaving behind. But I didn’t really, truly know what I was getting into. (Or that I’d be eating pizza just a week into my move to Indonesia.)

Though that transition was years ago, the memories are vivid, the lessons sank deep, and the tastes—both the last ones and the first ones—still water my mouth.

So, maybe you are getting ready to move overseas, or have family who are making the transition, or who hope to someday, or maybe you’re making some other big transition in your life and could use a roadmap for surviving changes.

Whatever your situation, I hope you’ll find these next three posts listing my 10 Tips for Surviving a Move Overseas helpful.

1. Expect things to be hard.

If you pack only rose-colored glasses when you move overseas, you may struggle when you face the new realities. The traffic that terrifies you, the fact your husband is deathly ill with a tropical disease, or the rats that move into your oven on Christmas. So, expect things to be different and frustrating and hard and scary.

Picture of our neighborhood in Bandung, where we went to language school. Our house is tucked in among the others.

2. Look for the good things.

When you’re bracing yourself for a hard ride, don’t forget to watch for the “better things.” Those things that are better than you thought they’d be, better than they are in your home country. Like eating sweet pineapple picked from a neighbor's tree. Or staying in a gorgeous resort for really cheap. Or making a special friend. Or getting your hair cut or colored for a fraction of the cost in your home country. Or experiencing the richness of living in another culture.

Believe it or not, I have been known to be a teensy bit frustrated when visiting my home country because of the things I’ve learned to enjoy in Indonesia (that aren’t common in the States).

Some really cute girls in our neighborhood in Bandung.

3. Make friends. Both expat and local.

Other foreigners—whether from your own country or other countries—will understand your life like few others will. They’ll know the places to buy cheese for pizza. They’ll be able to recommend a restaurant that won’t make you sick. And they are lonely too—far from family, friends and familiarity. Enjoy these relationships.

If you’re the only foreigner in your location, then search out blogs of other expats living overseas (like BorneoWife) or Web communities or Skype other friends from your organization who are in other countries.

But don’t be tempted to spend all your time with the other foreigners. Seek out relationships with the local people. You won’t always understand them, and they will certainly misunderstand you. But enjoy what they do well (here in Indonesia, its friendliness, hospitality, having time for you). And share with them what you can. Learn from them, lean on them, ask them questions, visit them and welcome them into your home.

Next time I’ll share my next three tips for surviving—and maybe even enjoying—the move overseas.

For those of you who already (or used to) live overseas, what’s your advice?

Another shot of our neighborhood.

Thorny Issues: Part 2: Disappointing People

2012-01-26T16:18:00.000-08:00

This week, I’m posting about some of the real issues involved with living and working overseas. Today, I share what I’ve always really wanted to tell the people I serve.

You see me towering over the crowd, sweat dripping down my white cheeks, holding onto my small kids. You pinch the cheeks—theirs, not mine. You snap our pictures with your phones, tell my little girl she looks like a doll, and give my son candy. You compliment me, make me feel beautiful, despite all my messiness.

You may have many thoughts about me. That I’m rich because I’m white. That I’m loose because I’m an American. That I understand you because I live in your country.

But what you may not think right away is, I am going to disappoint you.

You’ve given me so many things through the years. Gifts for my kids. Cakes for my birthdays. Spicy foods for my dinner table.

I try to give, too. And you are gracious, smiling, even though I cook differently, celebrate holidays privately, speak your language strangely, and raise my kids with different methods.

I want you to know, I’m trying to get it right. Studying your culture. Listening to your advice. Choosing to change my core ideas about how to do life.

But you may see my mistakes more than my efforts. My wrongs more than my intentions. My hiding more than my opening.

And though I usually try to go all the way, I still fall short. And sometimes I was up all night with my child, and so I don’t even try. I see your disappointment in the faltering smile. And I feel my own disappointment in myself. And then I just want to hide. Behind closed doors and painted-on smiles.

But then I remember I didn’t come here to make you like me. I don’t serve here to impress you with my generosity. I didn’t move here to become someone else.

I came here, hoping you’d overlook my failures to experience His love. To look through my white skin to notice His heart. To see past my sweat to see His blood. Shed for you.

Thorny Issues: Getting Real about Living Overseas

2012-01-23T21:13:00.000-08:00

I search through the patchwork of fruits at the roadside stand, motorcycles whizzing behind me. I examine the apples, discarding the mushy ones, setting my picks in the dust-coated metal scale dish. Half a kilo. Five apples. Just enough for Brad’s lunches for his flight days this week.

I pay the child who is manning the stand in front of his family’s house. He lies back down on the bamboo mat in front of the television.

And then the smell. Ahh, yes, durian. To the side, the pile of thorny fruit sits, emanating its odor that either churns stomachs or waters mouths. For me, it’s been some of both.

And for me, that “some of both” could apply to a lot of things. My experience in Indonesia. My adjustment to overseas living. Myself as I struggle and grow and backtrack and move forward. My adjustment to life as a mom.

Sometimes things just stink. And sometimes, my mouth waters from the enjoyment of being here.

When I first moved to Indonesia, I arrived in time for durian season, which usually happens only for a few months every couple of years. The grocery stores, markets and streets radiated the odor that made me nauseous. Finally, one day, Brad and I bought some, determined to do our best to accept this southeast Asian fruit.

We forced the slimy fruit down our throats, and gagged. It was horrible. This fruit is expensive, rare, and well-loved by many Indonesians. I didn’t get it.

For three years, I refused to eat it. Finally, Brad brought some home as a thank you gift from a villager he had flown. We tediously chopped into the unfriendly exterior, pulled out the slimy fruit and ate.

It wasn’t good. But…it didn’t repulse me.

The next time I tried it, I decided it might be possible to like it. Now, almost seven years into this life in Indonesia, I love the fruit. And my mouth waters when I smell it.

I guess you could say it’s a happy ending, one about adjustment and perseverance and growth and overcoming culture shock. But let me be honest. I haven’t grown to love or even like everything about this life. Some things still just stink.

For the next few days, I’m going to be writing about some of the realities of living and working overseas. The odors and the perfumes. The hard things and the lessons learned. The regrets and the second chances. Or in the case of durian, the third and fourth and fifth chances.

I'll even offer some practical tips on surviving the initial culture shock.

Even if you don’t live and work overseas, you may have a family member or friend who does. Or maybe your suburban American life has its own mixture of interesting scents and your own life may be full of hard-to-accept changes.

Whatever your situation, I’d love for you to join in the discussion as we get real about what it’s really like to live a life unexpected, thorns and all.

photo credit, YIM Hafiz

My Top Tips for Saving Money and Calories in the Kitchen

2012-01-22T00:41:00.000-08:00

When I moved overseas, I learned more than a foreign language, how to drive on the other side of the road, and how to avoid using my left hand. I learned how to cook. From scratch. With limited ingredients. On a tight budget. I still can't believe how far I've come.

But don't worry. You don't have to move halfway around the world to figure this out for yourself. Today I'm revealing my 10 best tips for saving money and calories in the kitchen. (Drum roll please.)

1. Save your vegetable scraps in the freezer. When you need some chicken broth to make soup or some other meal, boil up all your scraps, add some seasoning, and you have a version cheaper and healthier than the canned chicken broth from the store.

2. Use healthier, usually cheaper meats like chicken and fish, and season them with spices that make it taste rich. My favorite seasoning is Penzey’s Italian Sausage seasoning, which I use often with chicken in pastas, pizzas, soups, etc. Sklp the fattier meats without missing the taste.

3. Use lots of fruit, and lots of local fruit in your diet. The local, in-season fruits will always be cheaper and fresher.

4. Two tricks to cream up soup without adding unhealthy and expensive creams? Take a portion of your soup and put it in the blender, then add it back in. Or add ground-up oatmeal to add a creamier flavor.

5. Use everything. I buy my chicken at a local market, still on the bone. I cut off the meat, then boil the bones. I can then easily pull off the remaining meat and use it on salads, in soups, in wraps, etc. I save the broth to use in soups. Then I feed the bones to my cats.

6. When making cookies, bake only the number of cookies you plan to eat at that sitting. Freeze the rest of the dough. This keeps you from snacking on the dessert all day, and makes for an already made, freshly warm treat for another day.

7. Make your own sauces. Sauces aren’t all that difficult to make if you have a recipe (and really easy to find online). The canned sauces can be expensive and full of preservatives and sodium. I routinely make my own tomato sauce from fresh tomatoes my white sauce from skimmed milk, oatmeal flour and butter, and honey-mustard sauces for fish.

8. Stop buying drinks. Juices, sodas, bottled teas and coffees are expensive and full of calories. Learn to enjoy a slightly sweetened cup of tea or coffee in the morning, and rely on water for most of the other meals.

9. Use meats sparingly and supplement your dishes with beans, lentils and barley. They are healthy, cheap and do well at taking on the flavor of your dish, and stretching your other more expensive ingredients to feed a family.

10. Is your fruit going bad? Freeze fruits like blackened bananas, mushy apples and sour mangoes to use in bread, or even in cookies.

photo credit, slightly everything

Save Money, Give Money

2012-01-18T21:09:00.000-08:00

Flop…Flop…. I walk out of the store to Renea’s side of the car to buckle her into her car seat. Flop… Flop… Now over to Evan’s side.

Great, I think. My flip flops are missing the flip. The sole is falling apart—the fourth pair of shoes to do that in the last month, and I still have two more stores to go to finish my grocery shopping.

I’ll have to return to the shoe repair guy who sits in front of a store on a small stool. Broken shoes pile up in front of him as he sews them back to life one by one.

My January budget is trying to recover from December’s spending, with no room to buy shoes. But it costs the equivalent of just 50 cents to get a shoe fixed.

Nearly three years into this term (and that long since I’ve bought decent shoes), he has become my hero.

This ability to repair or refill broken or empty things is one of my favorites about Indonesia. I buy bagged refills of lots of things—body soap, dish soap, laundry soap. They are cheaper, use less packaging and in this area of my life, at least, I get to conserve.

I can also get clothes altered for real cheap to grow or shrink around my life. Throwing up all the time from early pregnancy? No problem, just resize those pants to fit with the emaciated look. Hubby now fully recovered from last term’s constant sickness? Take his pilot pants to the tailor to increase a size, and grow my smile.

Yes, I love to save a rupiah.

But I also am learning how to hold loosely to what I’ve worked hard to save. In today’s economy, it’s easy to get stingy with money. To hold tight to what we aren’t sure we’ll even have tomorrow. But when I save hard and give easily, I get the duel thrill of conserving something to watch it grow into someone else’s life.

What are your ideas for conserving and saving money? How do you like to turn your savings into generosity?

Check back in next week to see how I like to save money, time and calories in the kitchen.

Losing My Nerve

2012-01-14T21:45:00.000-08:00

“Are you ready for the new year?” Brad asked me on our walk. He carried Renea in a back carrier. I pushed Evan in a stroller.

Motorbikes and cement trucks zoomed past us as I tried to plow the small stroller wheels through sand-filled potholes.

“I guess,” I answered. A truck rumbled by, catching my words, and leaving behind the fears.

The new year? This one? The one where we’ll take a month-long trip back to the States with our little kids on that horribly long airplane ride? The one where Brad has three more masters’ courses on top of his already busy schedule? The one where he learns to fly a new airplane, and then goes to Africa for three weeks while I stay with the kids in Indonesia?

The one where we continue to hope for health for our little kids in a place of poisonous snakes and tropical diseases? The one where challenges I don’t even know about will surely push themselves into our lives?

The truth is, I’m losing my nerve.

It all started back when I had my first baby. Our family no longer consisted of my strong former Army soldier husband and my own invincible dreams. Our little baby boy was tiny—just six pounds—and vulnerable. And it was my job as mommy to make sure he would make it.

Then I had a little girl, who, though bigger than Evan at birth, just seems more fragile, even as she plows bravely into the world around her.

But now it’s been 18 months since she was born, and almost seven years since I moved to Indonesia. We’ve been through hard things and survived. My kids get bigger and stronger each year. So, where has all my courage gone? Why don’t I feel strong anymore? How could I move forward in this crazy year when I felt like I was slipping backward. How can I live here if I can’t buck up?

And then the truth tickled my weak heart. I need to learn something. I need to stop trying to be so strong.

I need to: Lean on His strength. Pray for His protection. Live in His courage.

Lose your nerve and find His courage. Give up your control and trust His power. Die to the fears and live in the miracles.

And I remember one of my favorite quotes:

“God is looking for people through whom He can do the impossible. What a pity when we only plan things we can do by ourselves.” –A. W. Tozer

Will you join me as we let Him turn our weakness into His strength?

photo credit, notsogoodphotography

Serving from the Mess

2012-01-14T15:22:00.000-08:00

My little girl crawled behind me as I ran into the kitchen to grab a piece of bread to give her for an improvised breakfast. I wanted to keep running—from my own stench. But I supposed I should return to my surprise guests who caught me finishing up an early morning workout.

My 3-year-old son saw the bread and wanted one, too. So, I excused myself again to get one for him, looking longingly at the bathroom—its promise of cleanliness calling out to me.

I returned, and smiled, though the sweat rings were still wet on my t-shirt, and my hair was plastered all greasy and sweaty on my head. I racked my brain for the polite thing to do in this culture. Excuse myself for 10 minutes so I could shower and just hope the kids don’t cry and pound on the bathroom door like they often do?

To find out what happened, visit For Missionary Moms where I'm guest blogging today.

photo credit, Pink Sherbet Photography

Substitute, Don't Starve

2012-01-08T03:11:00.000-08:00

This is the third in a series on Healthy Living, focusing on healthy eating.

My best piece of advice for people trying to eat healthier: never stop eating. If a diet focuses only on NOT eating certain foods, then that diet will last only as long as my tummy is full from the last pre-diet meal.

So, a key tool to a healthy lifestyle for this busy mom is to substitute, not starve.

Snacking:

It’s been a couple of hours since you ate breakfast (if you eat breakfast) and that donut or cookie or candy bar looks really good right now. Instead of merely ignoring my growling stomach, I keep a supply of healthy, but yummy, snacks, in which I happily indulge.

My list includes apples with peanut butter, a granola bar with dried fruit, hard-boiled egg and some carrot sticks, a handful of peanuts and dates. I usually use fruit to satisfy my sweet tooth. And protein tends to fill my stomach and stave off further cravings.

Meal Time:

If your goal is merely to eat healthy, you may focus too much on a bland serving of spinach. If you focus too much on food tasting good, you may reach for the cheese and push away the broccoli. But a focus on both makes for a more successful eating style that will last longer—hopefully for life.

So, make starches the whole wheat variety. Whole wheat spaghetti noodles topped with a yummy tomato-based sauce with a good helping of Italian seasoning is a good, healthy comfort food. Whole wheat tortillas for wraps filled with chicken, avocados and veggies taste good, fill the tummy and provide energy throughout the day. Combine brown or red rice with vegetables for a healthy stir fry.

Substitute in recipes. Use skim milk instead of heavy creams. Beans are a healthier than red meat in soups, and can taste just as good with the right seasoning. Whole wheat flour or oatmeal can be used instead of white flour to thicken sauces and soups. Fresh vegetables instead of canned ones are your best bet in making casseroles. Olive or canola oil should be used instead of butter.

Pick one healthy main dish. Then my next secret is to pick one or two sides that don’t require cooking. Salads with lots of yummy toppings such as fruit, veggies and a homemade honey mustard dressing (just combine equal parts mustard and honey) are easy to make and healthy to eat. Fruit makes a delicious side dish with little prep time and no added preservatives, sugar, or oil. The less cooked your food is, the healthier it is, and the easier it is to prepare.

Desserts:

I know I should padlock the refrigerator after dark. But on those nights when I just need a little something to enjoy with my favorite pre-bedtime show, I pull from my list of healthy, but yummy desserts.

Here are a few favorites: hot, decaf tea sweetened with just a teaspoon of sugar; toast with cinnamon; plain yogurt with a sprinkling of granola and a cut-up banana; frozen grapes; dried fruit.

If you’re like me, you try to simply eat nothing, hoping the craving will go away. Then unhealthy options will scream your name and you’ll end up tearing toward the kitchen. You throw all sorts of sweets down your mouth before you even realize what happened.

Take it from me. Eat. Enjoy.Just choose healthy and yummy food.

photo credit, em>Pink Sherbet Photography

The Exhausted Woman's Guide to Staying Fit

2012-01-08T02:56:00.000-08:00

This is the second in a series on Healthy Living. Today we'll talk about making exercise and healthy eating possible, even when we're tired.

Who knew that snacking, sleeping and short workouts would be the key to keeping exercise in my life three years after becoming a mom?

Though I’ve always been a pretty dedicated exerciser, throw two kids into my life and the urge to stay in bed in the morning is strong; and later, the urge to eat chocolate is overwhelming. Almost daily, I fight the three excuses I hear often from other women:

I am tired. (My kids are ages 3 and 1. Enough said.)
I don’t have a lot of time. (Refer to kids’ ages above.)
I have a sweet tooth. Especially for chocolate. Especially when I’m tired or stressed or bored or happy or sad.

But I really like being healthy and feeling good. So, I’ve developed six steps to staying fit.

1. Make a daily exercise plan:

The night before, plan a workout time for the next day. If it’s first thing in the morning, put your exercise clothes and shoes beside your bed. Then get up at the first sound of the alarm and immediately put on your exercise clothes, including your shoes. This turns you from a sleeping beauty to a strong athlete.

If your exercise plan is to work out after work on the way home from work, change into your clothes at the office. Again, you’re now an Olympian instead of a tired office drone. Drive directly to the gym, even if you’re really tired.

2. Choose your favorite exercise first:

If you’re feeling weak and tired and are about to just go back to bed, or go home after work or take a nap, pick the easiest, most enjoyable exercise first. For me, it’s walking. I figure, I can certainly put one foot in front of the other no matter how tired I am. Once you get started, the endorphins kick in and you remember what a stud you are when you’re exercising.

3. Stock your frig and pantry with healthy, yummy snacks.

Really, they must taste good so that you’re not tempted to just grab a cookie after eating the healthy food. So, splurge on the healthiest, yummiest granola bars you can find (or make your own!). Pick the yogurt with the fruit on the bottom. (Or try my easy recipe.) Buy your favorite fruit. Put some peanut butter on that celery stick.

4. Break up your exercise.

Sometimes my kids wake up earlier than I’d hoped and I’m halfway through my ab workout. Instead of just quitting, I finish it up at the next possible moment—while they’re playing quietly, during naptime, or even after they go to bed.

5. When you’re tired, move.

When we’re tired, we tend to reach for something sugary to give us the boost we need. Instead, drop and give me 20—of anything—crunches, push-ups, jumping jacks. Work a 15-minute mini-workout into your work day—either during lunch or during a break, or right after work. It curbs the appetite and gives you a healthier source of energy.

6. Be disciplined about your sleep.

Turn off the TV and go to bed (early) at the same time every night. If you’re continuously choosing to stay up late, then have to get up early for kids or work, your body will get run down and it will be harder to keep up a workout schedule. So, as much as it depends on you, get some sleep.

photo credit, lululemon athletica

Healthy Living, Healthy Soul

2012-01-08T02:46:00.000-08:00

This week, I plan to post some ideas on healthy living—tips on cooking and eating healthy, ideas for fitting exercise into a busy life. The goal won’t be calorie counting or losing weight or punishing bodies that enjoyed too many Christmas cookies. Instead join me on this search for beauty already in us and fewer distorted self-images, more energy and fewer discouragements, more life and less failure.

But first, on day 1, we look within…

Throwing Out the Distortion

I pull out the mixing bowl and dump the pizza dough onto the pan. Evan stands beside me, elevated on a kitchen chair, hands clean and ready to press.

I laugh. My reflection in the curved metal of the bowl gives me arms long, reaching far. My pink shirt extends wide. My frizzy hair, is well, still my frizzy hair.

I look funny. Stupid. And wide. But I feel beautiful in that moment when I’m a mom with my excited son, creating pizza for our weekend family pizza party. Rain drips outside, family tucked cozy inside a home that smells like a pizza parlor.

I choose the moment’s truth—the beauty instead of the distortion in the mirror.

Kindness Showing Beauty

The next day, I watch Evan pluck a purple flower from my garden and place it behind Renea’s ear. Ahh. I see how my little girl is loved. Her beauty amplified with her brother’s kindness.

Like so, you are loved, your beauty appreciated, your kindness adding to the world around you.

Beauty Reaches Out

My orchids hang along the gray wall, their roots straggly, their leaves forgettable. I water for days turned months. At last delicate purple petals stretch out from the pot. Color reaches out from the gray.

I want more of this in my life—surprises of color grown out of the hard things.

Join me?

Will you join me this week as we look for true beauty, energy, life and color through our cooking, our eating, our exercising, our thinking?

photo credit, maarjaara

Telling Someone How I Really Feel

2012-01-05T14:26:00.000-08:00

One of the hardest things about living overseas is living far from my grandparents and other loved ones. Recently, I wrote my grandparents a tribute and mailed it to them. Is there someone you need to write to, to tell them how much they mean, before it's too late?

When you loved each other, showed respect for each other, gave each other affection, served each other, this little girl was watching.

When you opened your home to your sometimes homeless military kids and grandkids, offering a rest between moves, a haven after painful goodbyes and an ongoing relationship and love in the midst of constant change, this little girl was watching.

When you loved others, seeing people’s needs, caring about them, always doing the right, selfless thing, this little girl was watching.

When you loved your kids, giving them a safe, loving home, teaching them kindness and respect for each other, you passed on a legacy of family love that someday turned into a love from my own mother, in my own family that this little girl would be watching.

When you loved your children, neighbors and friends and siblings unconditionally, never with rejection, never closing the door, this little girl was watching.

When you loved through your cooking of delicious meals, planting beautiful flowers, fixing broken things, joking, playing, laughing, this little girl was watching.

When you overcame difficult circumstances, sicknesses, poverty, loss of parents, and overcame these with a spirit that never gives up, that never stops dreaming and hoping, that works hard and loves harder, this little girl was watching.

When you loved God by praying, by reflecting His love and kindness, by trusting Him in hardships, by never giving up on Him, this little girl was watching.

When you love each other still, in pain, in loss, in illness; never stopping; perfecting love in the midst of imperfection; representing a true love that surpasses anything counterfeit that this world could give, this young woman is watching.

Thank you for creating a legacy of love, faithfulness and hope that will continue to live past your own life. I hope and pray I am able to continue your legacy in the lives of my own children and grandchildren. I owe you for loving with a love that has touched my life and so many others, for many years and generations to come.

photo credit, Sarah G

Searching for our Fathers in the Sky

2012-01-02T22:23:00.000-08:00

The gate outside clangs and my little girl wobbles her run toward the door. She thinks it’s Daddy on his motorcycle, coming home from work.

Really, it’s the guy who brings the gas bottle for my stove balanced on his moped. Her “Daddy” call disappears unanswered into the hot afternoon

Renea also runs to the door anytime she hears an airplane, waving high at the sky with pudgy fingers, “Daddy” on her lips. She returns to her play, waiting for the next chance to look for her father.

I love watching her day, a dance between absorbed playing or eating or napping and being interrupted by her ever-constant waiting for Daddy.

She shows me how live out this Father-Daughter relationship with the Eternal. Living out my day, busy with life. But still, waiting, hoping, expecting to see Him right outside the door, or up in the sky or pulling me into His arms. His name resting on my lips.

My kids do this all the time—teaching me life’s most complicated lessons from a three-foot-high perspective. Showing me how to hope for God’s touch even as I live in the dirt of this world.

Finally, the clang of the gate and the roar of the motorcycle actually is Renea’s Daddy. She presses her face against the screen door and he pulls it open, bends down and welcomes her into his arms.

I watch from behind as they snuggle and she giggles and pokes him in the nose with her finger, her daddy’s head thrown back with laughter.

Vision for the New Year

2012-01-01T02:43:00.000-08:00

May I notice the good things in life even when the hard things are all I can see.

May I watch for chances to grow in the fertilized parts of my soul.

May I open my eyes to needs, search for solutions and find courage to give all I can.

May I see the times I’ve hurt others and search for their forgiveness.

May I look past the times that people hurt me to see how they are hurting.

May I seek His grace when I fail, His purpose when plans go awry, His love when life hurts.

May I experience many nights of good sleep, or at least live the sleep-deprived days rested.

May I see beauty in others, in this world, in His plan and in the mirror.

May I notice the little hearts walking around my house, be patient with them, take the time to play airplanes and dolls with them, and make the effort to treat them as the treasures they are every day.

May I appreciate the stress in my husband’s life, the burdens he carries, the needs he has, and look for ways to shoulder his life with him.

May I believe and trust and love and give and receive and open and share and tell and enjoy as I live the year He gives.

photo credit, Creativity103

Almost Losing Our Son, and a Favor Returned

2011-12-26T23:15:00.000-08:00

The amber syrup slid down my throat, reviving me after a hike through a quaint Borneo village two year ago. Life felt sweet and it was hard to believe any different at that moment.

The villagers of Data Dian harvest honey—the best I’ve ever tasted—and we were eating it slathered on pieces of bread in the village pastor’s house.

But life was different…and hard…and unfair. As we ate, Pastor Hendri and his wife told us about the little girl who had just drowned. That week, this village hosted a celebration of the Indonesian independence day, holding soccer tournaments, dance competitions and feasts for the holiday.

The day before our family arrived in an MAF airplane to enjoy the festivities, a girl from a neighboring village had been swimming in the river when she disappeared. The village men—including Pastor Hendri—searched for hours, dredging the river with strips of bamboo covered in thorns, until they found her lifeless body.

Our visit turned from one of enjoyment to one where we hoped to provide comfort for our friend and his wife. But then, it turned into something even worse…this time with our own son as the victim.

Evan was just over 1 year old at the time. Within an hour of finishing the late afternoon hike, he began to experience diarrhea. It came fast and often and quick, filling diaper after diaper every five minutes. Then as the jungle night swallowed the orange sun, Evan also began vomiting…just as often…for hours. And our hopes sank into darkness.

For about five hours, we cleaned up diarrhea and vomit, almost constantly, while Evan grew weaker, refusing any drink. He was losing fluids quickly in a place with no hospital, with no way out that night since Brad couldn’t fly the airplane off the dirt strip after dark.

Pastor Hendri and his wife sat beside us, cleaning with us, with the water dragged in buckets from the river. They brought the village doctor—a young Indonesian man who Brad had brought into the village the previous month. The doctor and the pastor’s family stayed up all night with us, praying for us, watching over Evan, cleaning, comforting.

(Above Picture--Pastor Hendri standing over Evan when we first arrived in Data Dian)

Finally, sometime in the middle of the night, the sickness eased and Evan, finally, drank. And I finally, breathed past the fear that I would lose my son.

We left at first light, flying out of the village that was still dealing with its own hurts, and now, with our big mess left behind in that pastor’s tiny house. Brad sees this pastor more often than I do since he flies in the region. But the couple of times I’ve seen him, the memory of his kindness toward us on that very dark night overwhelms me.

Yesterday, we saw him again. This time, Pastor Hendri was the victim. On Christmas Eve, he experienced a stroke while serving in his distant Borneo village. Another MAF pilot flew him on a medevac flight on Christmas morning into Tarakan. The flight cost pilot Tripp Flythe his Christmas morning with his family, one more cost in a season of hardships. But it probably saved Pastor Hendri’s life.

We visited him and his wife in the hospital. Disoriented, he could hardly talk or move. Brad stood over him and prayed and comforted, hoping for a happy ending.

What a privilege to serve and be served, to spend a life that costs so much but is invested in things that matter. To be part of a family of individuals and cultures that gives life to each other.

Christmas in Indonesia (in pictures)

2011-12-24T19:02:00.000-08:00

A look at our Christmas this year in pictures...

Rice formed into a Christmas tree--served to us at a local fish restaurant where Brad and I went on a lunch date right before Christmas.

Lots and lots of flights and passengers and Christmas cookies flown by Brad during our busiest flight season of the year.

Story time each night with Daddy and the Advent Book.

A Christmas party at our house for all our Indonesian friends.

More visitors for our Christmas party.

Making cookies with neighborhood kids.

Our favorite Christmas-time fruit--Rambutan (translated hairy fruit), which is usually in season around Christmas.

The Night Before Christmas..and the Life Lived After

2011-12-21T21:06:00.000-08:00

I hold the dolls that my daughters’ grandparents sent in packages for her for Christmas, trying to figure out how to wrap them. Wrapping paper? Gift bags? It’s about time my little girl had something to play with besides her brothers’ airplanes.

The dolls remind me of Sue Sue. She’s the doll my aunt made for me, and that is stored far away in my parents’ basement, her cloth face smudged with dirty kisses from my childhood.

She was a Christmas present from the aunt whose laughter rang throughout my grandparents’ house on that long ago cold Missouri Christmas Eve. I don’t remember how old I was, or where I lived at the time. Kansas maybe? Kentucky? Or was it Virginia? My older sister, Jen, and I tried to sleep on the pull out couch in a room on the other side of the grownup late night party.

But I didn’t want to sleep, enjoying that blissful anticipation, cozy with the sounds of happiness and loved ones behind magical closed doors lined with golden light. The excitement of that night before Christmas marked my memory forever.

Sue Sue became my almost life-size friend the next day. My sister got the doll house made by our uncle. And we swam in a sea of colored wrapping paper after receiving gifts now long forgotten.

That was the Christmas before my aunt and uncle got divorced. Before a lot of things, really. Before I understood about abuse and death and suicide and war. That was back when my Army soldier dad could defeat all my enemies. Back when Mom’s hugs covered all my hurts. Back when Grandma could still cook her amazing chocolate pudding. Before she forgot where I lived or that I have kids.

Today I talked with an Indonesian friend of mine from back in Bandung, my neighbor during language school on the island of Java. Her husband beat her back then, then divorced her after I moved here, and still threatens her, hits her, steals from her.

I’ve known her for seven years, our relationship marking the length of time I’ve been in this country that both fills and breaks my heart. I’ve tried different things to help her—some small, others I thought were big enough to solve the problem. Nothing seems to help. Before she hung up, she simply wished me, “Merry Christmas” through tears that I can’t wipe from this distant island, far from hers.

Sometimes I long, no—ache—for the Befores—before I knew her and saw her unsolvable bruises. Before I wished for no power outages for Christmas. Before I decided to live in a culture so different from my own, making mistakes covered in tropical sweat, trying so hard and still, sometimes, unable to make a difference.

But I believe with the pieces of my heart broken over and over through the years in the power of God’s hope in the After. The forgiveness given after sin hurts. The grace poured out after life fails. The hope promised after death steals.

So, this Christmas, even as I enjoy my kids’ magical Christmas sent in boxes and wrapped in flat papered snowmen and snowflakes, I embrace the bigger magic of His Saving After. Will you join me in this hope?

photo credit, chefranden