These Days

I know I haven't really written anything for quite awhile. The problem is that there are so many things I COULD write about, I just don't know where to start.

I could write about my friend's dad's funeral and how amazing it was, given the circumstances. We shut down an entire four way intersection as mourners lined the streets in all four directions, and hundreds of non-believers heard the gospel and the hope that we have in Jesus. There was not a single dry eye in the house (street) after my friend got up and sang one of her dad's favorite songs - the one that brought tears to his eyes even in the last few days when he was in a coma - a song about surrender and faith. And if THAT wasn't enough, she and her brother then sang Amazing Grace in English and said personal goodbyes to their daddy. I think I got dehydrated with as many tears as I cried (and the fact that it was at least 100 degrees in the shade) that day.

I could write about how after the funeral, we went to the home of a good friend to eat an early dinner together and how she demanded that we all wash our feet, hands, and faces before we touch her infant, lest any lingering evil spirits from the corpse enter the child.

I could write about how even though I'm not a superstitious person, I washed in accordance with her cultural stipulations anyways out of respect. But after having R rated horror dreams for the following two nights, I began to think that maybe I didn't wash quite as well as I should. And then once I started sleeping with a lit candle by my bed, the dreams stopped. So maybe I'm a little stitious.

I could write about the million and one ridiculous things my students say to me. Or about how the EXTREMELY prim and proper 9th grade boy who sits across the table from me at lunch every day ate his tortilla chips with a fork today.

I could write about how I hosted my first church event at my home last weekend. My place isn't big enough to seat more than 5 or 6 people comfortably, but 33 people came. So we had a bonfire outside and played games on the lawn. Because I have one of the only lawns in the province. But after everyone left, I found pee splatter all over my bathroom. Indonesians aren't so good at using western toilets. I baked cookies for everyone, and I've already had requests for my cookies for two other upcoming events. One this week and one next. It only took me four years to figure out how to change all my recipes so that Indonesians like them.

I could write about how Yoga and Gibta's situation is looking up. I've been going to their village every week with some people from church, and someone from our church has been offered a position professionally tutoring/teaching the village children. If he says yes, that would be absolutely amazing for those kids. They could finally learn to read and write, and they wouldn't be embarrassed to go to school or be shamed by their teachers.

I feel like I could write an entire blog post about each of those things. But then I get overwhelmed thinking about it, so I just don't write anything at all. So this is to let you know that all these things are happening. And I am still alive.