A Path Through Tall Grass

Oh, be careful, little eyes, what you see!

2011-06-14T12:12:00.001-07:00

My name is Saralynn, and I used to be an avid watcher of The Office.

Used to be.

And before I go on, please let me emphatically state that this post is about me and my convictions, not about you. I don’t mean to seem egotistical or anything, but I want to make it clear that I’m just describing my own experience and my own reflections, and I am in no way commenting on your experience. All clear? Ok.

That being said, if you identify with this post, feel free to comment.

So I used to watch The Office on Netflix. I never saw it on TV, but I could sit down and watch it for a couple hours at a time when I had nothing better to do. It’s been about a year now since I watched it, and this is why:

I don’t think I could have invited my Savior to come watch it with me.

I could hardly call myself spiritually mature, but I was so convicted over this that I just had to stop watching it. I’d started watching it because it had been recommended by a co-worker back when I worked in an office in 2005. And when I first started watching it in 2009, I thought it was hilarious. I identified with some of the characters and fell right into the storylines. (Dwight reminded me of someone I knew in college. Scary, I know.) But the more I watched, the more uncomfortable I became during episodes. I thought I’d be embarrassed if my husband were to watch it with me, let alone my parents. There was an excess of sexual humor, and most of the non-sexual humor was put-me-downs. Funny? Yes! But that just shows how twisted my sense of humor has become.

Finally, one day when I sat down to watch it, I had to turn it off. I just felt guilty watching it, especially when there are so many better things to watch – more wholesome. True, there are better things to do than watch TV, but even if I’m going to watch TV, I could be watching much cleaner things.

I hadn’t really thought about it again for many months. Then a few weeks ago, a few friends were talking about having seen a new movie in the theater, and they agreed it wasn’t the type of movie they’d take their moms to see, that the moms would be embarrassed.

And I thought, Why would I want to see a movie that I couldn’t share with my mom? Yes, I’ve seen those sorts of movies before (and sometimes realized too late that I shouldn’t have shared them with my mom!), but when I sit down and think about it, why? Why would I waste my time with a movie that is not clean enough that I would not be embarrassed to watch it with my mom? I’d like to think if Jesus were alive today, he’d occasionally be OK with kicking back with a bowl of popcorn and a flick. What would he want to watch? Would I have to stand in front of the TV so as not to embarrass him or myself with scantily clad women/men? Would I have to mute the sound so as not to offend him with the language? Then what’s the point?

So I’ve decided to challenge myself to really think about that every time I pick a TV show or movie to watch. If I’m going to watch something, I might as well make it something wholesome and worthwhile… Scoot over and make room for Jesus on the couch!

Spring photos

2011-05-14T12:22:00.001-07:00

Timothy and Anna on Anna’s quilt, courtesy of Grandma Kathy

My goofball

At my aunt’s church for the Easter Egg Hunt

Timothy, Anna, and me in front of the blossoming cross on Easter morning – April 24, 2011

Timothy and me with my birthday lilies

My cousin Alyssa’s birthday gift was a framed photo she took at Thanksgiving of Timothy and me when I was pregnant with Anna.

Anna the cutie! She looks so much like Timothy when he was this age!

We got to visit a small animal farm with my aunt – bunnies, chickens, goats, and ducks!

Where does the Easter bunny fit in?

2011-04-10T12:10:00.000-07:00

This year I am realizing that I need to figure out how to address some cross-cultural complications like the Easter bunny and Santa Claus. When I say cross-cultural, I'm not talking about the difference between my American culture and my husband's Nigerian culture. Rather, I'm talking about the difference between my American culture and my Christian counter-culture.

When I was a kid, we did absolutely nothing with the Easter bunny and next to nothing with Santa Claus. They weren't forbidden or anything, but I don't remember a time when they figured into our celebrations. As far back as I can remember, we knew that our Christmas presents were from our parents and other relations. And I don't have a single memory of the Easter bunny at all.

Don't get me wrong. we still celebrated American aspects of Christmas and Easter. Every Easter when I was little, we decorated Easter eggs, and we had egg hunts. Mom would put little treats in the eggs, but usually fun or healthy things like sugar-free gum and whistles.

But we were at the mall yesterday, and Timothy saw that there was a display set up for having your photo taken with the Easter bunny. And I'm just not sure if I should go there.

So I guess I am wondering what some of you, my friends, do to balance the American celebration of Easter and the Christian celebration of the resurrection. Do you celebrate them as two separate entities? Do you nix "Easter" altogether and just celebrate the resurrection? Do you do both and just explain how they fit together? Or do you figure Easter is just a fun little holiday for kids and let them enjoy chocolate and bunnies? I am super curious how you all do it. Please comment!

Arkansas

2011-02-28T11:52:00.001-08:00

The only reason I have ever gone to Arkansas intentionally is to visit my friend Micah. I was fifteen the first time I set foot in Arkansas. I was home-schooling that year (by my own choice), and my parents took me on a month-long tour of the southwestern U.S. to visit family friends. It was wonderful! Our furthest stop East was going to be in Bartlesville, Oklahoma, but I encouraged my parents to visit fellow missionary friends in Arkansas, so we drove a few extra hours into Arkansas to see our friends. They’d left Nigeria almost five years previously, so it ended up being a nice reunion.

The thing I remember most about Arkansas, though, is the way I felt driving through the mountains. It was a late wintry afternoon, with the sun barely above the horizon, and the Ozarks were hazy, as though covered in a blanket of mist. I’m a sucker for mountains, and these took my breath away. They were that gorgeous. Although this is not my own photo (http://arkansastravelnursingjobs.com/regions.html), it is exactly the way I remember the Ozarks.

So thank you, Micah, for living in Arkansas – for a couple of great visits and for introducing me to the beauty of your home state.

Lots of babies – a plea

2011-02-14T17:06:00.001-08:00

First, let me say that I am so grateful for MOPS in all three locations I’ve attended – for wonderful people like Christine, Marcie, and Paige. They are all wonderful women of God, and I am so blessed by their leadership. It was through MOPS (and library story time)in Visalia that I met my dear friend Heather. And here in Hinesville it’s been a lifesaver with play dates and all.

I am really grateful for MOPS!

So when I found out that a young lady at my table here is having quadruplets this spring, I really wanted to help somehow. I’ve let her know I want to help in all the conventional ways – babysitting her toddler, bringing meals, buying groceries, etc. But I wish I could think of unconventional ways to help. I am open to suggestions.

Needless to say, I can’t even imagine how stressful it must be to have quadruplets, nor the pain and inconvenience related to the pregnancy. It just isn’t within my realm of comprehension. I’m having enough trouble with my two kids; what would it be like to have five kids ages two and under?

I know I have a lot of friends out there with babies, so you can relate to my feeling of being at a loss.

I know we’re all hurting for cash these days (well, most of us), so can you imagine having to buy diapers for four babies at once? We’re talking about forty diapers a day, at least at first. Uh huh. Forty.

So I am sending out a plea for coupons. I know many of us can use diaper coupons ourselves, but imagine how much this friend needs them. Would you be willing to donate one or two coupons if you receive them?

And I’m starting to collect other things, too – clothes, bibs, white onesies (all sizes), preemie clothes, etc. – so if you feel burdened for this friend of mine, please let me know. Let’s rally around my friend and make this time less stressful for her, even though you don’t know her!

Oh, and by the way, all four babies are BOYS!

Arizona

2011-02-10T10:01:00.001-08:00

I have lots of memories of Arizona, mostly because it is right next to California, so I’ve driven through it many times, both as a child and as an adult, although more as a child, I suppose. I’ve had great experiences and awful experiences in that state. My highlights include ice-skating when I was 15, eating at Chretin’s Mexican Food (YUM!), seeing a full rainbow over Tucson, tubing down a creek, and watching a game during Padres’ spring training when I was 11. On the other end of the spectrum are my memories of getting stuck for a week when my car broke down, getting my first and only ever traffic ticket, getting dehydrated while on a forced hike to build “teamwork” during orientation for a mission trip, and being sick at my mom’s cousin’s house. Oh yes, lots of wonderful memories.

But I think my favorite memories are those when we were camping at the Grand Canyon.

I’ve never hiked the Grand Canyon, as my sister has, but I have enjoyed it from the top.

Wow.

God certainly has an artistic flair.

When I was 18, my aunt and uncle took me camping on the North Rim, and I remember hiking along the edge one afternoon by myself, listening to a tape (yes, a cassette tape) of Christian contemporary music. It was one of those afternoons you never forget, between the scenery and the meditations…and calling my pseudo “boyfriend” in Nigeria only to have him “break up” with me on the phone.

I am laughing about it now. Oh dear. What a sorry little sap I was as a teenager. I am so thankful for God’s grace – and His sense of humor!

So yes, I have fond memories of Arizona.

(The photos were taken in January 1998 on the South Rim. The stuffed lion, TJ, went with me everywhere. Can you see I’m wearing a Wheaton sweatshirt?)

Alabama

2011-02-05T09:08:00.001-08:00

What a difficult state with which to begin! Although I’ve been to Alabama several times, I don’t have any memories that are really worthy of a short memoir, unless you count going to the playground after dark when it was in the 40s F, without winter clothes on. That was definitely exciting.

But no, after this past Thanksgiving, when I think of Alabama, I think of my first full football game.

Granted, I did see bits and pieces of a football game when I spent Christmas with my friends the SIngers in Delaware my first year of college. But at the time, I was trying to avoid the game, concentrating much more on the people I was with.

This time, I actually tried to pay attention to the latter half of the game. Alabama was playing Auburn, and my uncle and cousins were watching the game on DVR, after our having been out all day doing Black Friday shopping.

I know zero about American football except that it’s brutal to the body and takes FOREVER. Most of the game is time between plays, which drives me bonkers. I’m of the opinion, as with real football, that games should be continuous. There should always be something to watch. But anyway, there I was, watching my first football game. I even asked a few questions as I tried to figure out what was what and how the game worked. Not that I really care, but I had nothing better to do, since Timothy was in bed already.

So I’m afraid that is my Alabama memory. In years to come, I can say I saw my first American football game, featuring Alabama, on Black Friday 2010.

And no, I will not be watching the Super Bowl!

Flexing my wings

2011-01-20T11:02:00.001-08:00

I am sorely out of practice in writing creatively. When I was younger, most of my work was fictional, but I began to realize at first in high school and then throughout college that my best writing is actually creative nonfiction. So it made sense to try a blog. I had some great material when I first started it while I was in Nigeria, but here, I’m subject so some censorship when I write about my own life and family, so for a few weeks, I’m going to get some practice writing here with a series of posts to keep me disciplined. I have a few ideas up my sleeve, but a simple one to begin with is writing a brief piece somehow related to each of the states to which I’ve been. Since I don’t have the energy to think of any particularly interesting order in which to arrange them, I’ll just go with alphabetical. So let’s begin with Alabama.

Another day in the life of a MOP

2011-01-18T12:54:00.001-08:00

Today is my first day of “real life,” that is, being home alone with my two kids. After spending four weeks visiting and helping me out, my mom has traveled back to Nigeria, and after paternity leave and several long weekends in a row, my husband is back to a regular schedule at work.

So how has it gone so far?

Good question.

I was supposed to be up around 0745 to run an errand but couldn’t drag myself out of bed until 0945. Our nights with Anna have been weird anyway, but especially the last few days. We’re dealing with some sort of virus in our family, and Anna’s symptoms are eating less and spitting up more. Lots of fun, let me tell you. So I was still tired when I forced myself to get up at 0945. By then, Timothy – who had probably been awake for at least an hour but who is trained to stay in bed until I tell him to get up – had gone pee-pee in his “big-boy pants” (training pants/Pull-Ups). Not a big deal, but definitely not a step in the right direction. For whatever reason, no matter how many times I tell him, he doesn’t understand that he can get up out of bed to go potty without asking or telling me. *sigh* So wet jammies into the hamper, a clean big-boy pant, and clean clothes for Timothy. Anna, meanwhile, was being a little angel and just sleeping peacefully.

We all packed into the car… Hang on. This seems like a good time to gripe about the car for a minute. Our wonderful little Forester has been great to us. It’s gotten us where we’ve needed to go and has never broken down in the middle of a drive. We’ve tried to maintain it well and spent a bundle on new tires and a new timing belt. It’s seen its share of scrapes, but it’s been a trusty little trooper.

But it has its drawbacks. We didn’t really realize these when we bought it, but now we know what will be different about the next car we buy. There are two main concerns: First, the backseat is too close to the front seat; and second, the middle belt in the rear is not retractable. These seem like tiny gripes, but they have presented a whole lot of problems to us. The most immediate of these problems is that we cannot put Anna’s carseat in the center of the back seat, where it is safest. She has to sit on either the driver’s or passenger’s side in the rear. The trouble is that because of not enough space between the rear and front seats, her carseat doesn’t actually fit on either side. It is uncomfortable for me to drive when she is behind me; I have to push my seat all the way forward, and my legs are all cramped and tight. And I’m only 5’6”. You can imagine what it’s like for David, who is 6’2”. But if I put her on the passenger’s side, when I drive and my husband is a passenger (which is often the case, since I’m a control freak when it comes to driving), it’s the passenger seat that has to go all the way forward, and my husband gets cramped. So it’s a real problem. I never would have guessed when we bought the car that there would not be enough space for a rear-facing carseat, but I guess we learn something new every day.

So there we were, somehow fitting into our car. We ran our errand and then came back home to eat breakfast. No problems there. Timothy and I were both happy, and Anna ate afterwards, so we were just peachy. Timothy sat down to watch a movie, and I – still battling this virus – also sat down at the computer to watch something while I burped Anna, knowing she would spit up in a fountain if I didn’t thoroughly burp her. I knew we needed to go to Walmart, but I also knew that we had an errand to run at noon, so I figured we’d kill two birds with one stone and go in one trip. We’d had breakfast so late I figured we could just eat a snack while we were out and then have something more substantial when we got back home mid-afternoon, before Timothy’s nap.

So around noon, we completed our errand with the car and then headed to Walmart for a mid-week shopping trip. I have started to make shopping lists, but somehow, I still end up going to Walmart pretty much every other day. But today it was serious. We are out of milk and almost out of fruit. I can hardly believe it, since I bought a whole lot of fruit just this past Friday. There must be a wormhole in our kitchen specifically for fruit…and pens. We keep losing pens.

By this time, Timothy was getting hungry, so I went through a Wendy’s drive-thru to get us a snack. Very healthy, I know, but please don’t judge me. I have a newborn and a three-year-old. After we placed our order, while we were waiting to pay, Anna woke up in her carseat and started screaming. So instead of heading straight into Walmart, I parked in an out-of-the-way space and took her out of the carseat to feed her if she was hungry. First, though, she needed a diaper change, for she was leaking. But it was drizzly outside, so I got Timothy to sit in the front seat so I’d have room in the backseat to change Anna.

And that’s when Timothy decided to be naughty. Nothing serious, but enough to drive me crazy. Now, mind you, the last two times I’ve been to Walmart with Timothy, he’s been a menace. While my mom was here, I tended to leave him at home with her during his nap and do a Walmart run on my own. But I can’t do that anymore, so I figured I’d have to try taking him. But when he started misbehaving before we even set foot into Walmart, I knew I was doomed. So I told him if he touched the emergency brake one more time, we were going home. Don’t you know it, he touched the brake, just to see what I’d do. Well, I am true to my word when it comes to threats. I got him back into his booster seat, put Anna back in her carseat (after she’d finished her meal), and I took away Timothy’s milkshake. We were going home. Timothy immediately unbuckled himself and lunged for the milkshake in the front seat. So I told him that when we got home, I was going to have to put his carseat back in and take out the booster until he learned that he can’t unbuckle himself without permission.

The whole way home, Timothy whined that he wanted his milkshake and the book he’d dropped on the floor of the car. I told him he could have his milkshake after his nap only if he behaved. So then he said he was thirsty, so I said I’d get him a drink of water when we got home. But he said he wanted milk.

As I mentioned earlier, we have no milk.

But he didn’t believe me and started crying snd screaming that he wanted milk.

We got home, got his shoes off, and gave him a cup of water. But he refused to go potty before his nap. So he was punished and finally agreed to go potty. When I started this post at 1417, he was finally in his bed, and I heard him whining that he wanted his milkshake…

I’d forgotten another errand I had to run at 1420, so I had to get Timothy up from his bed (in which he was anything but napping) and back in the car. Ten minutes later, we were home again, and he was sent back upstairs to nap. Now, at 1510, he is singing Christmas carols, after having been in his bed over 40 minutes.

And Anna, meanwhile, has been a perfect little angel – sleeping peacefully or quietly looking around, watching everything. And she’s the one who’s sick!

Whoever said the threes are worse than the twos was definitely right. Lord, help us all.

Anna’s grand entrance

2010-12-20T19:42:00.001-08:00

I stayed up too late on Saturday night. I’d been making a few freezer meals for after the delivery, and then I wanted to watch some of “North and South” with my husband. We’d finished the first two books and were down to the last. So I put the food away and relaxed for awhile on the couch. I’d been having false labor contractions for weeks, but that night they were more regular, about a half hour apart. Still, I was not counting on any action anytime soon when I finally got to bed around midnight.

But about 0300, I realized the contractions were regular and only ten minutes apart, and by that time they were strong enough to have woken me from sleep. So I started timing them, and I woke David to say I thought our baby would be born that day. I got up and started getting stuff ready to go to the hospital, just a few last-minute details (like posting on Facebook!). Sometime after 0400, we arrived – with Timothy in tow - in Labor and Delivery at the hospital. I was in pain but calm (which should have been a sign to me that I was not ready to be admitted yet). The nurse checked me and said I wasn’t ready to be admitted yet, that I wasn’t in active labor at that point. She kept me on observation for over an hour in any case, but nothing changed on examination, so she gave me Benadryl and Tylenol and sent me home “to rest.”

Rest.

Right.

By the time we got home from the hospital, I was in complete agony and screaming through each contraction. I literally worried about the neighbors calling the police because of my screaming. I tried to lie down and rest, but the contractions were so close together that the pain never actually went away between them, just grew and lessened in intensity. I stuffed a blanket in my mouth to deaden the sound. Somehow – due to the Benadryl, I suppose – I managed to close my eyes between each contraction for an hour or so. I had no idea when to go back to the hospital, since they’d sent me home. How was I supposed to know when I was in active labor? The contractions from the moment we arrived home already felt like they were only two or three minutes apart, but I was in so much pain I couldn’t even time them.

Finally, sometime after 0730, I told David we had to go back to the hospital. So we woke up Timothy for a second time and headed back to Labor and Delivery. This time, I had three contractions in the ten minutes between our house and the hospital, and when we arrived, I was moaning and putting all my effort into not screaming. The nice guy at the lobby desk asked me if wanted a wheelchair, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to say yes or no, so i just grimaced, walked past him to the elevators, and went up without the wheelchair. When I arrived in Labor and Delivery, it was the middle of a contraction, and somehow we got me into a bed in the triage room. I was still in my nightie and socks, wearing my glasses and everything (not like when Timothy was born, when they basically stripped me naked toward the end). The nurse examined me, announced that I was complete, and got some extra hands to rush me – in the bed - across the hall to the delivery room in the middle of a contraction. They got me into the delivery bed, the doctor rushed in, and after I screamed through another contraction, he told me the next contraction to push instead of screaming.

So I did. In the middle of the second contraction of pushing, at 0805, Anna emerged and started squawking right away. I had to ask to make sure it was a girl, since I’d been so paranoid that my baby would be a boy. Not that a boy would have been bad, but I was expecting a girl from the ultrasound, and I was just nervous that I’d gotten all these baby girl clothes for naught! :) From the time we entered the Labor and Delivery unit to the time Anna was born cannot have been more than fifteen minutes, active labor maybe an hour-and-a-half, and the grand total of painful early and active labor about five hours. Not bad.

So Anna was born at 0805 on Sunday, December 12, 2010, weighing 7 lbs 8.3 oz and measuring 20 inches long. Poor Timothy was there the whole time. He was out of the way enough to not see everything, but he experienced it nonetheless, hearing it if nothing else. He was a real trooper and has been great these past eight days!

But Anna was seen by a pediatrician right away and was sent for lab tests because of petechiae (little blood spots under her skin). That afternoon they told me her platelet level was dangerously low, and that she would have to be sent to a better hospital in Savannah.

I was terrified. When they spoke to me, I was alone. They’d put Anna in the nursery, and I hadn’t seen her in five hours. My husband had gone home to rest. I just wanted to cry. I got to hold Anna later for a half hour before they took her away in a portable incubator on a stretcher, with all her monitors and wires.

Anna has something called neonatal alloimmune thrombocytopenia, or NAIT, which basically means that her platelets have a factor from her daddy that mine don’t have, so my antibodies were attacking her platelets. If the platelets get too low, especially with the trauma of birth, she could have internal bleeding. What they really worry about first is bleeding in the brain, but her head ultrasound on Monday was clear, so her prognosis was good. And this week it has just been a matter of waiting to see if her platelet count would rise once my antibodies started to disappear from her blood. Although they went up initially and slowly, this past Friday they went down so low that the doctors had to give her IV immunoglobulin, which basically destroyed my antibodies to help boost her platelet count.

The treatment worked, and her numbers have been climbing again, today out of the extreme danger zone. Yes! If they keep rising consistently over the next few days, she will be able to come home, so that is what we are praying for. If they remain level or go down again, she may need more treatment. We just pray we are through the worst and that Anna can join us for Christmas. :)

A new place to live

2010-10-28T21:02:00.001-07:00

Don’t get me wrong. This has been a wonderful place for us to live, a real blessing. I knew as soon as I got the email about it in June that God had prepared this place just for our specific need these past 16 weeks. I am truly grateful for the house and for our host couple next-door. That is absolute.

Having said that, and avoiding complaining in any way, I am definitely looking forward to certain features that our next home will hopefully have in contrast…or not have in some cases.

I’m looking forward to

a home that is not already infested with 2-inch cockroaches.
windows that open.
being able to use curtains or blinds in my living room so that I’m not living in a fishbowl and can actually wear pajamas at night in the living room and kitchen.
plumbing that does not leak excessively.
air conditioning that cools down the whole house, not just the bedrooms.
having empty closets, drawers, cupboards, and shelves so I can actually use that space myself.
taking baths again instead of just showers!! (Timothy is also looking forward to this, to be sure.)
a stove at countertop height instead of low-down for wheelchair accessibility.
grounded outlets.
having a carpet that does not show every single crumb that falls.
paying my own bills and not feeling beholden to anyone.
having doors that seal and thus keep out geckos and crickets.
not constantly having to worry about Timothy’s damaging something that is not ours.
getting regular Internet!

and 15. being able to decorate with my very poor taste and minimal skills, not to mention nonexistent budget! :)

Moving on again

2010-10-28T20:46:00.001-07:00

I wish it were really true that rolling stones gather no moss. Somehow, no matter how short a stay we have in any given place, we always seem to accumulate more stuff! I think I really need to figure out a filing system and actually use it at our next house for all these miscellaneous papers… Too bad I can’t use a filing system on all this other stuff. Fortunately I have enough sense never to end up like one of the people in those Hoarders shows. I worked for a lady one day a week after college for several months, and she definitely could have been on one of those shows. I honestly think she needed a psychiatrist. She hired me in about September to help her pack for her move to Florida. Well, not only did she not have actual plans to move to Florida, but she also would not let me pack anything. Oh my goodness. It was a nightmare, every time, for perhaps six months that she had me come. There was barely enough room in her house to move around, between bookcases, portable closets, and heaps of papers and books. The kitchen was a mass of clean tins to be recycled, piled three high all over the counters. I will say this: She was not dirty, which is actually rather significant. But she would not throw anything away that could possibly be useful again to anyone. Oy! Lord, please keep me sane and remind me that I can’t take anything with me when I leave!

Well, Timothy’s birthday cake is out of the oven and smells great! Several months ago he requested a Mickey Mouse cake for his birthday, and someone had suggested I go to Dairy Queen or Baskin Robbins to order one, but in my usual procrastination, I realized yesterday I still had not done so, and his party is tomorrow. Boy, am I grateful that there are other idiots out there like me. There must be, for there in the party section at Walmart – where I was gathering balloons and favors all at the last minute – was a disposable Mickey Mouse cake pan set with a plastic overlay of Mickey’s face. Perfect! Timothy preferred that to the idea of cupcakes, so we grabbed it. I only got Timothy one birthday gift this year, so I figured we could pay a little extra for a cake he really wanted to take to a party that will be very brief anyway.

(He also asked for a pinata, but having seen how little ones handle a pinata at my cousin-once-removed Madeline’s birthday party last year, I thought maybe we’d wait a couple years for that.)

So we are having a very low-key 3rd birthday party tomorrow, a week early. Why? Yes, it’s because we’re moving again next week. And I figured Timothy would rather have a tiny party here with the few friends he has made (mostly adults, sadly enough) than celebrate on his birthday in a motel somewhere. With whom? Daddy is not a real birthday person. And with what? I couldn’t have made a cake in a motel. So we’re going to the park tomorrow to meet a handful of friends for an hour. I can’t say whether the other kids will have a good time, but I’m pretty sure Timothy will. All he needs is some cake and a playground to keep him happy. Oh, and the “Happy Birthday” song, of course. We’ll see what happens anyway.

We’re moving to a town about an hour away from Savannah, Georgia, where we can hopefully stay for at least a year (unless God has bigger and better plans for us, which is our constant prayer!). We leave Wednesday and will get to visit my grandma on the way, arriving Friday evening – on Timothy’s birthday. I should be packing and concentrating on how we’re going to fit everything into our car (and throwing out everything else), but I’m trying to get through tomorrow first with a lot going on besides Timothy’s party. One thing at a time, right? It’s not as though I’m packing up my whole house, since we’ve been living in a furnished place.

…And actually, I’m going to write another post about this furnished place – or rather, the things I’m looking forward to about being somewhere else. :)

Class reunion 2010

2010-09-16T10:54:00.001-07:00

For the Labor Day weekend, I took Timothy on a road trip to Las Vegas for my 10-year high school class reunion. As soon as we got home, we both came down with colds, so we’re still recovering – ten days later!

I’d originally planned our trip to take three 7-hour days each way so Timothy and I wouldn’t go crazy in the car, but at the last minute, I was invited to an event Wednesday evening, the day I’d planned on leaving. So we left Thursday morning at 5:20 AM and drove 15 hours to Gallup, New Mexico through West Texas. I hadn’t gotten as much sleep as I’d wanted – leaving much of the packing to the last minute – so it was a long day. Timothy was amazingly good, just entertaining himself and watching a couple movies in the backseat. He is such a great traveler; I am so blessed by that! We also had plenty of snacks, so we didn’t stop for lunch or dinner, just to fill up on gas. We paid $3.09 at a Shell station just east of Moriarty (one of several reasons I don’t usually buy from Shell), and I felt completely ripped off. (Little did I know that I’d have to pay $3.29 on our way home in somewhere, Arizona.)

We finally made it to our motel right when the sun was going down. I’d “cleaned” our windscreen at the Shell but discovered once we got off the freeway in Gallup that I’d only made it worse. The sun was shining directly into my eyes – too low for the sunshade – and glaring on the yuckies of my windscreen. For a few minutes I considered pulling over and waiting a half hour for the sun to actually set; that’s how bad it was. Then the road turned, and I literally thanked God! We checked into our motel and were both so exhausted we just ate some fruit for dinner and crashed. The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast downstairs in the motel before heading out.

And between Holbrook and Flagstaff, Arizona, I got my first traffic ticket. It was just an overall bad experience, so I won’t go into it, but needless to say, it ruined most of the rest of the day for me! After that I was pretty ticked off when we had to go on a long road-work detour that added almost an hour to the trip. The cool part was that we got to see Hoover Dam!

We pulled into the hotel parking lot in Las Vegas around 4:30 PM but had to wait for almost a half hour to check in because the line was so long. Poor Timothy was so glad to be out of the car that he was running all around the tiny check-in area, driving Mommy crazy! After finally getting checked in, I had just enough time to take a bath in the huge bathtub before we left for the airport to pick up my BFF from high school, Laura (above).

After I got Laura, we met up with our friend Linda, who drove us to join our classmates at the MGM Grand (left). Because of Laura’s flight, though, we’d missed dinner with the group, so the three of us (and Timothy) never did get dinner. I ate someone’s leftover pizza before the plate was taken by a waiter, and I did end up buying Timothy a pretzel dog downstairs, which he hardly touched. The rest of that night is a blur of exhaustion and hunger. I think the others got drinks, and then we went over to the Golden Nugget for more drinks. I don’t drink anyway, and of course I had a two-year-old in tow (fortunately in the stroller that I’d foreseen would be my salvation), so I never did get to sit down and visit with everyone…the whole weekend, actually. That night Timothy and I sat and watched the shark tank for an hour or so and chatted with two of my classmates, Becky & Meaghan. We were both so tired, but we had to wait for our ride back to the hotel. Finally, I couldn’t sit down any more without falling asleep, so I pushed Timothy round and round the shark tank pool in his stroller. We finally left around 12:30 (2:30 Texas time!). By that time I just wanted to cry!

Saturday we slept! Timothy didn’t sleep long enough, but Laura was awake in our suite, so she took Timothy into her room and let him watch cartoons while I slept another hour. (Bless you, Saint Laura!) Once we were all up, we grabbed Linda (left) and went to the nearest pool for a little swim before noon. At lunchtime, a bunch of our classmates decided to go to the food court at a mall. This was a great idea so we could all choose our own food, and it was ideal for Timothy especially. We had a nice lunch there, but Laura and I had the hardest time finding my car when we were leaving and so were told to go to the Venetian and wait for the others, who would be coming there to shop.

We took Timothy to the Venetian and loved the shops inside with the canal and all. Such a fun atmosphere! I’d promised Timothy we could get him ice cream, so we found a Haagen Dazs and got him a cone. He took about four bites and then was finished. I hadn’t brought the stroller, just his harness, so I spent the next 20 minutes (while Laura and I ate our ice-creams as well as Timothy’s) holding onto the harness for dear life and dealing with an obstinate child. At first he just played on the chairs, but then he tried to crawl away and ended up lying facedown on the floor and crying. Oh yes, I got lots of fun looks from people. I would have felt bad if it had been a quiet place otherwise, but it was so noisy that Timothy’s crying couldn’t have been much of a bother to anyone. I think they were just shocked that I let him lie there and cry. He hadn’t had a nap and by this time it was late afternoon, so I completely understand his losing it!

Our friends never did show, so we finally went back to the motel to lie down for a bit before meeting the rest for dinner at 7 at a Korean place. I made sure I drove this time so that I’d be able to leave whenever I wanted. Dinner was yummy! We cooked our own food at our tables (after being shown how), and even Timothy enjoyed it. It was a little awkward that while I was the second person to sit down at a table, I was only joined by Laura and the guy I liked in high school, while the other tables were overcrowded – two tables for four seating at least six. Is it me, or is it Timothy that makes people not want to talk to me? It’s probably me. I was never popular in high school and was always one of the smart, prudish “good girls,” so I guess that hasn’t changed at all. At least the food was good!

After dinner we all headed out to do karaoke. I was kind of excited about

that, never having been to karaoke before in my life, but it ended up being a bust for me. I’d already decided I wanted to leave wherever we were by 10:30 (for my sake as well as Timothy’s), and even though we got to the pub by about 9:45, they had just started the first song when I left at 10:30. So I had to miss that. But there are lots of photos of it on Facebook.

Laura left early Sunday morning, so Timothy and I were on our own. We went out to a buffet lunch with the others, but I didn’t feel great, and Timothy was restless. Even with help from Linda, I still went crazy with Timothy. Everyone got to sit and eat and chat, and I ended up leaving and fighting with Timothy for a half hour because he wanted to play arcade games, and I had to go to the bathroom! Finally I couldn’t take it anymore, so we went back to the hotel and stayed there the rest of the day. In fact, we didn’t leave again until we checked out the next morning. I was just so fed up! I cried and cried and had a good chat with my husband to cheer me up. And Timothy really wasn’t being bad. It was just frustrating for me to have to handle him by myself in an unfamiliar place where I had hoped to get a chance to actually talk to people.

Now I know why my friends with kids stayed home or left the kids at home. There is no way I could have left Timothy at home, so maybe I should have not gone. I don’t know. Part of me feels like it was a waste of time since I was still an outsider and didn’t get to talk to many people. But another part of me is glad I went, since I did get to spend time with Laura and Linda. I don’t know. I guess it was an ambiguous trip!

We did take three days to drive home, and it was so much better that way! We missed a huge tropical storm we’d have had to drive through if we’d done the drive in two days, and I’ve never been a fan of driving in the rain or on flooded roads! Better yet, because we took our time, the power was back on when we got home, after having been off for 30 hours. So we could forget about the dead cockroach in our motel room in Lubbock – almost.

Even though this is not really home, it was still nice to get back to our house here (except for the weather) and take David to dinner. Timothy has free rein in our home, which just makes life so much simpler!

You know you’re the mom of a toddler when…

2010-08-21T14:34:00.001-07:00

…you fall asleep with Disney Silly Songs running through your head.

…you take a bite of ice cream, find a gummy bear in it, spit it out, and give it to your kid.

…you carry baby wipes in your purse, even if your child is potty-trained. (They are so useful!)

…you can sing the songs from Dora the Explorer and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse but don’t recognize a single song on American Idol.

…you plan to meet your friends for a play date instead of coffee.

…you can recite Good Night Moon, among other books.

…you speak of yourself in the third person (as “Mommy”)constantly – sometimes even when you’re with adults.

…the last movie you saw in the theatre was rated G.

…you have a potty in your bathroom (perhaps even a singing one).

…most of your dishes are plastic.

…your pantry is stocked with graham crackers, fruit snacks, granola bars, and goldfish.

…you’ve got sing-a-long CDs in your car.

…you can name all the characters in Toy Story.

…you plan your day in terms of naptimes and bedtimes.

…your bathtub has more toys in it than loofahs and shampoo bottles.

…you feel like your life is completely out of control but love your kids to pieces!

The end of our grand adventure

2010-07-17T14:47:00.001-07:00

Okay, technically, we’re not “settled” yet. Although we are finally in San Antonio (well, Converse), we will only be in this home for about two weeks before moving to our more long-term house in the city. So even though we’re not on the road anymore, we’re still living out of suitcases for awhile and have the car mostly packed. I’m hoping that even though we aren’t moving into our house until August, we can at least unload our stuff this week, since no one is living there right now. It’d be nice to have our car be less of an eyesore (and a temptation for twisted people who want to steal strollers, potty chairs, toys, and clothes).

So we are here in Converse, Texas, and we have done some exploring this morning already, thanks to our [albeit silent] GPS. We’ve been to Office Depot and the grocery store already. Sadly, our printer is giving me an error message I don’t know how to deal with - “Remove and check cartridge” – aside from doing what it says, which hasn’t helped, and since I have no idea who can help here, we might be looking at buying a new printer. *cringe* These things happen. And now that we’re in one place, I might send in my GPS and see if I can get a new one or get this one fixed.

We are so thankful for all your prayers as we’ve been on the road these past three weeks! It’s such a relief to be in one place for a little while, maybe get to know people at church and all. We definitely still need prayer as we make this our home for now and get to know the city a bit. I’ll have to find a doctor for prenatal care, which doesn’t sound like fun to me. Maybe I’ll be able to write more about Timothy’s & my adventures as we explore!

Our grand adventure – Days 17-18

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Day 17: Wednesday, July 14, 2010

We took our time getting off on Wednesday, since I was not in any particular hurry to leave my aunt’s house. But leave we did, after I checked the oil and added a good deal of coolant to the car. (It seems to me I may need this checked when I get to Texas. Should my car be needing coolant refills every week? Maybe so!) The girls all pitched in to help get the car loaded and Timothy ready. The car’s seats were a bit wet, but Timothy’s carseat was dry, since it had been in the garage during the night’s thunderstorm. So we set out anyway. Somehow we made room for another box of diapers (unpacked into its two packages) and some more food (including some of my aunt’s fresh banana-blueberry muffins with the blueberries we’d picked ourselves Monday). We didn’t get off until almost noon and had an uneventful drive to our motel in Greenville, Alabama. I have an alarm on my phone set for 2:30 PM every day to remind me to pray for a friend, and yesterday it went off twice – once in Eastern time and then again in Central time. :)

We got to see some cool lightning just south of Montgomery, although Timothy saw much more than I did, since it was off to our left. He immediately connected it to Lightning McQueen. (My cousin Alyssa had bought him his own toy McQueen at Walmart the previous day.) Smart kid! The motel in Greenville was decent, but the Internet was wretched. It was on just long enough for me to chat with my sister on Facebook before it quit entirely. It’s a good thing it’s free because otherwise I’d have demanded a refund. Good grief. I stayed up late hoping it would work, but finally gave up sometime after 11, after Timothy had been in bed an hour or so.

Day 18: Thursday, July 15, 2010

Today we planned to drive to Sulphur, Louisiana, a 7+ hour drive, so we got up around 8 AM and ate the motel’s free breakfast before heading out. (Okay, Timothy actually woke up at 7 AM, which doesn’t make any sense since he was up so late! But I told him it wasn’t time to get up, so he lay in bed, kicking his legs and singing to himself for an hour. Thank goodness!) We headed southwest toward the Gulf and then turned west to follow the I-10, which will take us the rest of the way. We stopped at a rest area on the border of Mississippi and Louisiana around lunchtime and discovered it was also a NASA visitor’s center. I was tempted to visit the NASA area, which was separate from the rest area, but with Timothy, I thought it might be just too much. It’s a really nice rest area, though, if you’re ever heading either way on the I-10 at that border. It was hot today – 96 or so – but in cooler weather I’m sure it would be delightful. There are lots of shaded picnic tables under trees, and I think it’d be a great place for a picnic lunch. Plus there’s free coffee if you go inside! We stopped shortly afterward for lunch at Subway. (I only recently discovered you can get tuna sandwiches at Subway – yeah!) Timothy had fun running around and playing peek-a-boo with a young man at a nearby booth. :)

One thing I noted as we drove today was that we drove extensively over water – more than I’ve ever done before. I guess in this part of the country, when the signs says “Mobile River” (or whatever), it actually means “Mobile Delta.” I kept wishing we could pull over and look at the trees growing out of the water. Such a cool phenomenon!

And I realized that perhaps my greatest pet peeve of driving is tailgaters, especially when they are semis. Yes, I am a slow driver. I go the speed limit. But I have to pass vehicles, too! Usually I try to do so when it doesn’t inconvenience anyone else, in other words when I don’t see speeders coming up quickly behind me in the left lane. And sometimes I do speed up to pass other cars. But seriously, I pray God has mercy on these drivers who follow five feet behind other vehicles going 70mph. Don’t they have any idea how dangerous it is – both for them and for the vehicle in front? Obviously not. It’s just idiocy in my opinion.

Anyway, we made it here to the La Quinta Inn in Sulphur, Louisiana (thanks, Priceline!), where there is air conditioning and high-speed Internet, as well as free breakfast tomorrow. Yeehaw! Timothy and I had leftovers and fruit for supper and have gotten to relax this evening. I am so wiped out after almost three weeks of traveling. But when we get to San Antonio, we’ll only be in one place for two weeks then will move to our more permanent residence. So it’s not “home” yet! Oy! I guess I’m really learning flexibility as well as the fact that we really are strangers in this world!

So tomorrow: San Antonio! We’re aiming to be there by around 3 PM, so we’ll try to leave between 8 and 9 AM. (Ha ha.) Here we go!

Our grand adventure – Days 12-16

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Day 12: Friday, July 9, 2010

Last Friday Timothy and I slept until 8 AM, which felt like sleeping in after being up much earlier the previous two days to get to activities on time! I started our laundry going, and we lazed around while it got washed. I had to wait an extra half hour to put it in the dryer because someone was using both dryers for his stuff. Grr. While it was drying, we dashed out to Walmart for some lunch food and an extra suitcase so our laundry (clean or dirty) didn’t have to be in a plastic shopping bag. We got back, got laundry sorted, packed everything in the car, and barely made it to noon check-out with literally a minute or so to spare. Yikes!

We got on the road right away and drove the 2-1/2 hours to my friend Laura’s house in Duluth. With no sound from my GPS, I did get a little turned around, but thank goodness it “recalculates” quickly. :) It was great to see Laura again! Timothy ran around the backyard for awhile until we all got eaten alive by mosquitoes and decided to go in and start supper. Good timing, as it started to rain shortly afterward! We had a nice taco supper with Laura and Laura’s grandmother, cousin, and aunt, then Timothy had a bath and went to bed so Laura and I could visit. We stayed up pretty late, but I knew there was nothing pressing in the morning, so it was fun! It was so nice to just sit back and chat! Thanks, Laura!

Days 13-16: Saturday to Tuesday, July 10-13, 2010

On Saturday morning, Timothy woke me up, and we lounged around until breakfast with Laura and her grandma. Afterward we packed our things and hit the road again, this time heading to Appling to visit my mom’s sister Brenda and her family. It was another short drive (a real relief!), and we arrived with plenty of the afternoon left to visit and for Timothy to play. Aunt Brenda has lots of toys! We enjoyed a home-made dinner with the family and visited into the night.

Sunday we spent most of the morning and some of the evening at church. (My uncle is a pastor.) What a delight to meet so many friendly people who love Jesus! Okay, and it was admittedly also a delight to put Timothy in nursery for several hours! :) Actually, that was one of the nicest things about being with my aunt’s family: having two cousins to play with Timothy! I dearly love my son, but sometimes it is nice to get a break. That night after Timothy was in bed, my cousins, uncle, and I played Taboo together – the first time I’ve played in probably a couple years. And my uncle and I won! :)

On Monday, we got to go blueberry picking! We all piled into my aunt’s van – my aunt, my two cousins, two little ones my cousin was babysitting, Timothy, and I (me?) – and drove to the farm. The bushes were full of ripe berries, and many of them were within easy reach of the two little boys. Although it was overcast in the morning, the sun came out while we were picking, and I quickly got too hot to pick any more. Timothy had long since stopped picking, preferring to run around with the boy my cousin was babysitting. But we all had fun! Between all of us, we picked 14-1/2 lbs of blueberries, which ended up being 10 quarts. By the time we left, we were hot, sweaty, and ready for naps! My poor aunt spent much of the afternoon washing the berries and packaging them while the children slept. I got to read for several hours, which was a real treat! Timothy was upset when the little boy went home after nap, not least because the little boy took his toy Lightning McQueen with him. :) But he got over it quickly. Timothy’s bath that night was nightmarish. David called while Timothy was bathing, to talk about something that required me to leave the bathroom briefly. While I was out, looking for some documents, Timothy got out of the tub, picked up his bear from his bed, and brought his bear with him into the bathtub. Oh no! The bath lasted much longer than usual because I was talking to David and just let Timothy continue to play. So it was already late, but then I had to take the bear downstairs and run him in the dryer before I could put Timothy to bed. *groan* What a night! My sweet cousin Alyssa played with Timothy and read to him to keep him occupied while his bear was in the dryer. Thank you, Alyssa!

On Tuesday morning my cousins, aunt, and I took Timothy to see a free showing of The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything at a theatre in Augusta. Although there was some technical difficulty, we had a good time, and Timothy loved the movie. Afterwards, we had lunch at Chick-Fil-A, and Timothy got to play in the play area for awhile, even though he wouldn’t ever climb up the structure so never did get to come down the slide. We ran some errands at Target and Walmart and got home in time for a late nap for Timothy. After supper, when Timothy was finally in bed, my cousins and I decided to play Monopoly. I hadn’t played that in ages, either, and I was awful!! I would have been a real embarrassment to my brother. :( But by midnight – after several interruptions – we finally called it quits when I went bankrupt on Boardwalk with three houses (or maybe it was Park Place). Ha. I got totally creamed. But it was fun! It rained while we played, and we all discovered the person who had come to fix the roof on Saturday hadn’t succeeded. My poor uncle’s closet had a constant drip from the ceiling. It made me feel right at home – just like in Nigeria! :)

All in all, we have a relaxing visit in that part of Georgia and were glad to see such encouraging friends and family.

Our grand adventure – Days 9-11

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Here we are in Columbus, Georgia!

Day 9 was pretty uneventful, actually. It was an hour shorter than I’d calculated because I’d forgotten to figure in the time difference. Cool! I let Timothy sleep in, and then Timothy and I had a nice “continental breakfast” (what does that mean, anyway?) at the hotel before we started on our way. We drove through more rain, though not very hard, and the GPS took us on smaller roads through the Alabama countryside rather unexpectedly. Even though we had to go 40 mph for about 20 miles thanks to road work (we did not actually see a single sign of active road work), we still made good time, only stopping once for gas in Selma, Alabama. It was good to get off the freeway as far as gas prices, but it was a little unnerving, too, not knowing when the next town would be – bathroom, gas station, food, etc. Timothy and I snacked in the car for lunch so were starving when we got to Columbus.

When we arrived, we unloaded our stuff and only afterwards realized the air conditioner in our room wasn’t working right. So we had to ask for a new room and then move all our stuff to a room without a microwave and fridge. Oh well. A/C is much more important! (Yesterday’s high was 97F.) The downside was that I couldn’t buy us milk and fresh fruit, which we have both been craving. We went to Walmart to get me a swimsuit and find Timothy some swim diapers, since I have no clue what I did with the ones we had, but they didn’t carry swim diapers – at least not that I could find. Good grief – and in July!! I thought there’d be a McDonald’s at Walmart (like in California ones), but there wasn’t, so we were really hungry when we finally got to Pizza Hut on our way “home.” But I wasn’t feeling good, so we split a personal pizza and still had leftovers. Very bizarre. I will be glad when I have a regular appetite again. The nice server lady gave Timothy some kids’ activity placements and a chalk marker since she didn’t have any crayons left. We had fun. It was about 8:30 when we got back to the motel, but I let Timothy watch a Wallace & Gromit before bed.

And Days 10 and 11 have been days with David! If you know why I’m here, then you know where we’ve been and what we’re doing. If not, this is part of our not-making-our-lives-public thing. Needless to say, it has been good to see David again and for Timothy to get reacquainted (and get a haircut). :) Tomorrow David goes off again, and Timothy and I will head up to the greater Atlanta area to visit my best friend from high school, Laura. Saturday we’ll drive up to Augusta and spend a few days with my aunt and uncle & cousins there before heading back westward to San Antonio.

So our trip is not over by any means! In fact, we are only a little over halfway in the grand scheme of things. And for whatever reason, my GPS has stopped talking to me, so I’m rather anxious about the rest of the trip without a navigator. I guess maps will just have to suffice until I can get the thing fixed. Maybe you can all pray that it will miraculously start working again!! I can still use it; I just have to look at it a bit more often than I’d like to need to when I’m driving.

Thank you for all your support! We’ve enjoyed our trip so far and have really loved being in Columbus these two days! But we’re looking forward to getting to San Antonio and having a home again, even if it’s only temporary. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m tired of eating out!

Our grand adventure – Days 7 and 8

2010-07-05T20:09:00.001-07:00

Day 7: Sunday, July 4, 2010

I’m able to write this from Pearl, Mississippi, where Timothy and I are bivouacked for the night.

The past two days have been nice and easy. Yesterday we attended church at Scofield Memorial in Dallas, Texas, with our dear friends Uncle Dick and Aunt Meg. Timothy enjoyed the toddler room so I could finally be a grown-up for awhile! In church we prayed for the parents of my college roommate and dear friend Heather. I’d forgotten they are supported by Scofield!

After church we had a yummy Sunday dinner courtesy of Aunt Meg, and everyone spent the rest of the afternoon resting. (For me that meant chatting on Skype to my dad and sister, and booking this hotel room. For everyone else it meant napping. For some reason, I’ve found that if I nap, I always am nauseated when I get up, so I try not to let myself sleep during the day.)

After naps, we went swimming! It was deliciously warm and humid outside, so the warm pool felt perfect. Timothy loved getting wet and even learned to kick his feet a bit while in the blow-up ring. Someday I’ll try teaching him to swim, but for now it’s just getting his face wet that we’ll work on!

We played with toy cars all evening and then went on a wild goose chase with Uncle Dick and Aunt Meg for fireworks. We got to see a few but missed the big shows. Oh well! It’s more than we saw last year. :) Timothy and I finally got to bed sometime after 10:30PM.

Day 8: Monday, July 5, 2010

I took the car to an open Pep Boys this morning at 8 AM for an oil change and just to ask about the water leak. The guy I talked to assured me that a somewhat large puddle is normal if you’ve been running the air conditioning a long time in humid weather. Well, now I know! I guess I’d lived in California drought too long!

Once the oil was changed, I drove back to get Timothy (whom I’d left asleep at “home”) and our luggage. We packed up, I wolfed down some cereal, and we got underway. I figured we’d refuel and eat lunch somewhere near Shreveport, Louisiana, and it was a quiet drive there. I noticed two guys on motorcycles without helmets (my friend Ruth would cynically refer to them as “organ donors”) and realized the Southern states must have relatively lax helmet laws. Timothy is of course fascinated by motorcycles at his age. I just hope I can train him that they are evil and dangerous!

We had a nice lunch at Exit 33 on the eastbound I-20 in Louisiana. I recommend the stop if you happen to be going that way. The Pilot gas station is nice and has great prices (today a full 20 cents a gallon cheaper than the Love’s just a few miles down the freeway). Their mini mart has friendly cashiers and lots of food, including fruit. The bathrooms are clean, and there is even a diaper changing station! Plus there is an Arby’s. When I was pregnant with Timothy I craved Arby’s curly fries but couldn’t get any, so I enjoyed them today. :) I hope Baby AJ liked them, too. Timothy wouldn’t even try them. He had a hot dog instead. He sure does love hot dogs. The cashier at Arby’s took a fancy to Timothy and I think told all her other cashier friends to come see this white chick with the biracial baby. Timothy didn’t pay any attention to the ladies trying to love on him, though. He was busy watching the lights of one of those electric-claw-toy game things like in Toy Story.

Once we crossed the Mississippi River, I knew for sure it would rain soon. And boy did it ever. All of a sudden, without any showers of warning, the heavens dumped buckets on us. I slowed down from 70 mph to 60 but kept having to slow down; it was that heavy. I finally was down to about 40 mph and following another car in the right lane at a very safe following distance – just close enough so that I could see its taillights. I turned on my emergency blinkers, and the car in front of me turned on its emergency blinkers. There we were, quite a pair, for the next 5 or 10 miles (who knows in that rain how far we went?), crawling along and blinking. I felt oddly fond of this car that was being so careful in contrast to the [in my opinion foolish] drivers who flew past us with such low visibility. I may not be the world’s greatest driver (to which my sweet husband can attest), but I consider myself definitely on the safe and conservative end. I don’t speed (except in the city, and then only to keep up with traffic, never in the fast lanes). I like driving with my lights on. I look over my shoulders probably more than actually necessary. And I’ve never been in an accident or had a traffic ticket in eight years of driving. How many people can say that? (Okay, I did go off the road once in Zeeland, Michigan, when I hit black ice on a bridge overpass, and it is only by God’s grace that there were no other cars around for me to hit as I spun several times before going down into the median and getting stuck in snowdrifts. But there was no damage done, a good Samaritan helped push me out, and I will always, always be careful on that particular bridge in the winter from now on!)

Anyway, we did weather the worst of the downpour (praying the whole time, while Timothy slept blissfully in the backseat, reminding me of “Jesus, Take the Wheel”). and it was only another half hour of light rain before we arrived at our hotel around 5 PM. Again, if you happen to be traveling this route, I’ll recommend the Jameson Inn in Pearl, Mississippi (just east of Jackson on the I-20). It’s not cheap, but we got our room on Priceline for better than we’d have paid at the nearby Motel 6, plus we get free Internet and breakfast, and it’s a much nicer place in general. We’re happy here! We had a nice dinner at Waffle House (my first time at the chain), and I welcomed myself to the South with a sweet tea. Mmmm! No offense, but Yankees just don’t know how to make iced tea!

And now it’s time for bed. Tomorrow will be a slow day, since we only have another six hours to Columbus, Georgia, if all goes well. We can sleep in and take our time. I accidentally left my swimsuit in Dallas, but actually, it was a size 16 and quite a bit too big for me anyway, so I’ll probably bite the bullet and get another one when we reach Columbus. The question is, should I buy my first ever two-piece (albeit a very, very modest one) so that I can fit into it when more pregnant, assuming I do get bigger – since I didn’t get big at all with Timothy – OR get a regular swimsuit and risk not fitting into it in a couple months? I wouldn’t care at all normally, but there is a chance we will live in a house with a swimming pool in the backyard in San Antonio, in which case I know I would spend much more time in the water than if we were in an apartment with a more public pool… Ah, such a quandary! And just think: there are people starving to death all over the world, yet here I am blogging about buying a swimsuit. For shame!

I’m obviously tired and need to join Timothy in the king-size bed. There were so many pillows I put two on Timothy’s side edge so he wouldn’t roll off (which he did in Arizona), and another one between us so he doesn’t crowd me off the bed (which he kept almost doing in Texas), and we still each have a pillow to sleep on. Perfect! And we have our own thermostat, so I’ve set it at a comfortable 78 (instead of the freezing 65 it was at when we arrived). The portable DVD player is charging, and Mommy is sleepy. Good night, world!

Our grand adventure – Day 6

2010-07-03T21:22:00.001-07:00

I’d set the alarm to ring this morning at 6:30 again, but at 6:28 when I woke (it’s funny how that works, but I’m glad it usually does because I don’t always want Timothy to wake up when I do), I thought, Why do I need to wake up now? There’s no rush to get to Dallas. So I rolled over and kept sleeping intermittently until Timothy woke up at 7:45. Much better! We packed up the car and left as soon as possible. Did I mention that our non-smoking motel room reeked of cigarette smoke? It’s such that when I got ready for bed tonight, I could smell the smoke on my pajamas. Avoid the Motel 6 in Tucumcari, NM! (They also only had a shower, not a bathtub, so I couldn’t give Timothy a bath.)

We ended up not eating a sit-down breakfast, but I kept thinking we could stop around lunchtime and get breakfast then. Well, that didn’t happen either. It was raining at lunch time, so we kept driving – not owning an umbrella – but finally got desperate for some real food so stopped at a Dairy Queen in somewhere, Texas. :) Not great but decent. I realized we were in the South immediately by our server’s accent (duh). And also, when we were standing in line, a little biracial boy about ten came up and started playing with Timothy. He asked me how long I’d had Timothy. I said, “He’s mine. He’s 2-1/2.” The boy asked again, “Yes, but how long have you had him” I would have assumed this was just because we were in the South, but I actually got asked the same question in central CA once by a woman who assumed I’d adopted Timothy. Are healthy biracial families so rare?

The bathroom at DQ was yucky enough that I didn’t want to change Timothy on the floor (and of course there was no changing station). So I hauled him back to the car after lunch for a diaper change. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize it was raining quite so hard, so we both got rather wet while I was changing his diaper in the driver’s seat of the car (the only available spot in the whole vehicle). Ugh. So we had half the trip left in wet clothes. Oh well! It was still better than having to haul out his potty in the pouring rain every hour or two! Diapers are a go!

Just outside Wichita Falls, we stopped for gas, and I noticed that something was leaking from under the car. Great. So I parked the car and popped the hood. I had just checked the coolant level and discovered it was almost completely empty when a man came up to us and asked what the problem was. I pointed out the leak, but he didn’t seem to think it was a problem. I then told him about the coolant, so he went inside the minimart and bought me coolant, then helped put it in. We then checked the oil, which was only a little low but was dirty, so he recommended I get it changed in Dallas if possible. When he went back to his car for wet wipes for our hands, he noticed the puddle under the car was quite a bit bigger, and he agreed that it might be a problem. But it just looked like water to him, and that seemed odd. He said he thought we’d make it to Dallas but recommended we get it looked at.

Great. Unfortunately, we’re leaving Dallas on Monday, which is of course a holiday, so I’m praying really hard and hoping God will get us safely to our stop in Mississippi and then help us find a reliable mechanic there who can at least give it a once-over on Tuesday. I’m very thankful to God for kind strangers who help pregnant moms with toddlers traveling alone when they need help!

We continued on our journey and hit a great deal more rain, but I was listening to The Lord of the Rings so didn’t bother much, just drove more slowly and carefully. (And no, I did not use cruise control.) We arrived in greater Dallas around 7 PM or so and enjoyed a breathtaking full rainbow as we drove into the city (before hitting harder rain). So nice! We finally got to our friends’ house in Garland around 8 PM and have enjoyed visiting and a much-needed bath for Timothy. :) Tomorrow we will rest here and enjoy the Fourth of July with these dear friends who might as well be our family! On Monday we’ll head out toward Georgia and stop somewhere roughly halfway, probably in the middle of Mississippi. No plans, no reservations. We’ll just see what happens. THANK YOU for your prayers!

Our grand adventure – Day 5

2010-07-03T20:44:00.001-07:00

(Friday, July 2, 2010)

I woke up at 6:30 again this morning (if you know me very well, you’ll understand that this is a major chore, even more so in the midst of pregnancy) and struggled through my usual morning nausea to get the car packed. Mom’s cousin was kind enough to feed Timothy while I loaded the car, since I couldn’t stand the thought of food. *shudder* We were on our way by 8, heading northeast on a simple highway. It was beautiful country, especially at first, through pine trees and mountains (with lots of “watch for deer” and “watch for elk” signs again). I have to admit one of the few things I dislike about driving is that I can’t enjoy the scenery quite as much as if I were a passenger. But generally, I love driving long-distance. It’s just…liberating somehow.

Anyway, we got to the I-40 in Winslow, Arizona, and made it safely through Holbrook without incident. (I was once stuck there for a week with car trouble and ended up spending well over $1000 between car repairs and motel room costs. So I am not a fan of the town, although the people were very friendly.)

We loved the 75mph speed limit most of the day, and we just breezed along. In Gallup we stopped at McDonald’s for lunch, and Timothy played with some other kids who were there. We got approached twice by panhandlers outside the place – the first time by two kids who wanted a quarter (to buy something inside, as it turned out) and the second by an adult who wanted spare change. Hm.

We left behind mostly Spanish-sounding names and started seeing mostly Navajo names on the signs along the freeway.

Oh, and I’m also developing my multitasking skills in having to pick up Timothy’s toys, bowl, pacifier, etc., that get dropped onto the car floor – all while driving. I know it sounds really safe, but I’m always careful to see that no cars or trucks are nearby, and I never take my eyes off the road. You can do a lot by feeling.

I also started listening to a dramatized version of The Lord of the Rings today (thanks, Kathy & Ron, for the loan!), which definitely helped keep me awake.

We arrived in Tucumcari, New Mexico, at about 6:45 PM and checked into our motel, which incidentally does not have Internet as I’d thought. *sigh* So now Timothy’s watching Ice Age on our DVD player since there’s nothing age-appropriate on TV, and I’m avoiding the thought of having to find something for Timothy to eat for dinner. Maybe we’ll be okay with granola bars, cherries, and grape tomatoes. :) Perhaps tomorrow we can eat a real breakfast at Denny’s before we hit the road if I’m not feeling too sick. Poor kid needs some substantial food after staying two nights with a very strict Vegan. I do, too, for that matter. I know it’s healthy food, but considering most of it is stuff Timothy and I don’t like, we didn’t eat that much…besides granola bars and cherries!

So when I do get Internet (hopefully tomorrow in Dallas), I’ll be able to tell you how many miles we’ve traveled so far.

Total time on the road so far (including stops) = 27 hours

Our grand adventure – Days 1-4

2010-07-01T20:01:00.001-07:00

Timothy and I have begun our long journey from southern California to Georgia and then to Texas!

Days 1-2

Timothy and I started our trip on Monday in San Diego, where we’d been staying with friends for several weeks. I was in no real hurry to get off. Timothy was playing with our friends’ grandchildren, so I could load the car in peace. We finally got off around 11:30 or so but had to turn around within 15 minutes, as I realized we’d left Timothy’s Pippin Bear behind. Now that would have been a disaster. On our way back to “Grandma Kathy and Grandpa Ron’s” house, we were in a near collision with a young man in a nice VW something-or-other. I won’t go into details, but it was not in any way our fault, and no one got hurt, so we left our phone number (although I knew he would never get insurance to cover any damages since he’d run into the curb himself and we were not at fault) and kept on. After retrieving Pippin Bear, we finally got on the freeway at 12:02. Whew!

It was an uneventful drive up to Visalia, only stopping for gas. And once we got to the Valley, we were sure glad our air conditioning had gotten checked! We arrived at our friend Heather’s house at 6 that evening, just in time for Timothy to play a bit with the kids before bed. Yay!

The next day, Timothy and I met friends at the park. After playing in the playground for awhile, we were glad when the fountains turned on at 11 so we could get wet! Timothy had a blast getting soaking wet, and I even drenched myself a few times (drying out each time much too quickly) to cool off. It was nice to see friends for one last time before our real trip began. After a picnic lunch we went back to Heather’s house. Timothy played there with the kids while I went to our storage unit to repack the car. It reached 102F that day, but the storage unit was – thank God – pretty cool. That evening, we picked up a double stroller at our friend Marcie’s house, Timothy played with her son Evan for awhile, and then we finally went home to rest for our trip.

Days 3-4

I woke at 6:30 yesterday and started getting ready for the day. Timothy kept sleeping while I ran the double stroller to our storage unit (it wouldn’t fit in the car with everything else), and when I arrived back at 7:30 or so, he was awake and rearin’ to go! We said goodbye to Heather et al and got underway (by way of Costco for gas and McDonald’s for breakfast) around 8:30.

It was challenging learning a few new driving techniques, such as how to control the car with its luggage carrier on top in the midst of high winds. I’m also having to learn how to use my side mirrors efficiently, not being able to see out my rearview. I’ve hardly ever used my side mirrors, since I don’t have great peripheral vision with these glasses. But I’m learning! We stopped in Needles (among other places) to get gas and experienced the 113F heat. Again, so glad to have air conditioning! We went next-door to McDonald’s so Timothy could get down and play a bit in the air conditioning (and if we also got a milk shake, so what?). It was getting dark when we reached Flagstaff, and I was paranoid about all the “watch for elk” signs we were seeing. I figured by the time I saw an elk, it would already be destined to end up destroying my car and itself. Sorry, but at 75 mph in the dark in a downhill grade, there is no way I’m going to be able to stop for an elk! I prayed with Timothy as we drove so God would keep us safe from hitting an elk. He must’ve heard!

The other interesting thing we saw was a sign that had the mileage to the two nearest towns in kilometers as well as miles. How odd! I would have loved to have stopped to see the London Bridge, but I didn’t know how far it was from the freeway, and we were already behind schedule, so we passed on that particular tourist spot.

We finally got to Camp Verde, Arizona, at about 9 PM, and I chased around a devil child before we finally settled down for sleep. We had a restful if warm day here today in Arizona with my mom’s cousin and are preparing to travel tomorrow to Tucumcari, New Mexico, where we’ve booked a motel room. Yeah! We’re definitely on our way, and we’ve only lost one pacifier so far! I have no clue what I did with Timothy’s swim diapers, though, so a trip to Walmart is in order. :)

Thank you for your prayers! Wish us well!

A new path

2010-04-27T11:09:00.001-07:00

When I started this blog four years ago, I was volunteering in an AIDS treatment program in Nigeria. Now, here I am in the States, forging a completely different path through completely different terrain. Is it time to close this blog and begin another? Or reshape it to fit the times?

Part of the issue is respecting our family’s need for privacy. So many of you, though, have asked that I keep you updated with specifics as often as possible. How do I balance these two? I’m not sure yet. I may start a new blog that is password-protected, or make this one password-protected – only for invited readers. Or I may send out a regular email. In any case, if you’re interested in hearing more about our adventures in a less-public arena, let me know with your email address, and I will figure something out.

And if you are entirely clueless, I do apologize, but as I said before, I am trying to be respectful of privacy and so can’t divulge our latest plans in such a public place. Email me! :)

Until then, happy trails!

Snow day in Sequoia

2010-03-27T15:39:00.001-07:00

Last Friday, my parents took all three of us up to the snow in Sequoia National Park. It was about a two-hour drive from our apartment to the snow area, but on the way we stopped to see the famous General Sherman, a Giant Sequoia tree. Timothy loved walking in the snow and throwing snowballs with his bare hands. The trail to see the tree is at an incline, so we stomped and slid along, as the trail was a little icy in places.

General Sherman is as huge as ever! Although it’s not the tallest nor the widest tree in existence, it is the largest in volume. It’s easy to believe when you circle it and look up into its branches. Some folks were lying down on the cleared off bench, taking photos upwards of the tree, and they just kept saying, “Wow… wow.” Its circumference at the base is about 31 meters, so you can imagine a tree around which it takes more than 30 grown men to circle. Because it was snowy, we could get much closer to it than we would have been able to in summer, with its being roped off and all. I joked with David that it would be a nice place to build a several-story summer home – in the trunk, that is. The walk back to the car was slippery, and Timothy raced ahead of the rest of us, plowing into strangers who thankfully thought he was cute and didn’t mind. One part of the trail goes through a fallen tree trunk, and that was pretty cool. There were even icicles hanging from the tunnel’s edge.

We piled back into the car (after Timothy ran into the street and scared me half to death – how am I going to get him to stop doing that???) and drove further on to the snow area. Having never been to Sequoia in the winter, Dad & I half-expected it to be a tourist attraction like Yosemite. Alas, no. Although there was a sledding hill, there were no shops open (only in the summer), so we were glad we’d brought our own lunch! Mom had made us a picnic, so we enjoyed eating in the car before we traipsed out into the snowy field.

Some of the snow was pretty deep. David and I on separate occasions both went down almost up to our hips in snow. At one point I thought I would have to ask Dad or David to help pull me out! Timothy had a blast jumping in the snow, throwing it, and especially kicking it. We none of us had on snow clothes, but I’d brought a dry set of clothes for Timothy, so I let him go ahead and get soaked. I put on his mittens and my gloves, and that made everything much nicer. He had fun with Grampa, sliding down into a small gully on his bottom and then climbing out again. We started to make a tiny snowman, but Timothy kicked it, and snow flew everywhere. I climbed halfway up the snowy roof of the summer snack shop before I realized if I went further I’d have to slide down on my bottom. So I climbed down again, leaving that for some day when I’ve got on snow pants. :) David, Timothy, and I set off to the sledding hill and got some great exercise walking in the snow before it was time to go. We even passed a little creek into which Timothy wanted to jump, right after I’d heard read to me that there are so many drowning deaths in the mountains! No way were we getting near that creek, even though it was literally barely deep enough to cover my shoes if I’d had to go through it. It looked freezing and very slippery. Brr!

All in all, we were only in the snow for a couple of hours, but we all had a great time – Mom in the car listening to an audiobook and the rest of us in the snow. By the time we were done, around 2pm, Timothy was soaked, and I was glad I’d brought dry clothes! But it was a warm, sunny day – I wore short sleeves and felt fine – and we enjoyed the snow! I hope there will be pictures soon to follow.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for a great snow day 2010!

0600

2010-03-02T10:32:00.001-08:00

Something woke me up at 0600 yesterday. I’m guessing it was Timothy’s whining from his bed. Maybe he was thirsty; maybe he was cold. Who knows? I pulled his covers over him more closely and patted him, and the little guy went right back to sleep. David was in the living room on his computer, wide awake, enjoying the quiet morning. He had been awake since 0400 and would go back to sleep around 0700.

I got a drink and went back to bed.

I realize that many people are up by 0600 on a regular basis. In fact, I know someone who gets up at 0500 every day and walks her dog.

Not me.

No way.

I’ve never been a morning person. In college, I avoided taking 0800 classes after my freshman year because I knew I was more likely to fall asleep in them. And when you’re sitting front and center, falling asleep is a particular problem. I remember one evening as a freshman, going over my notes from my 0800 Intro to Anthropology class and trying to read miniscule writing that drifted off the page. It was during that semester that I did my experiment with drinking four cups of coffee at breakfast before class.

Never again.

But at least I stayed awake!

I had to get up at 0630 when I worked in San Diego, since I had a 45-minute commute and had to be at work at 0800. Sometimes we would get there at 0730 so we could leave by 1630 instead of 1700. So yes, I do know what it’s like to get up early regularly. I can do it if I need to.

But it’s not for me.

In high school we were always encouraged to get up early for quiet itime before the day really began. Honestly, I did try. But every time after the first couple of days, I would drift off back to sleep as I was trying to pray. Call it spiritual warfare if you wish.

I don’t think so.

No, I’m definitely not a morning person. And at this time of my life, I can afford to sleep late. In fact, I need to sleep late. Since I work from home, my best work is done at night, when Timothy is asleep. And I’m obsessive about getting my work done early. If I have 40 papers turned in between 0700 on Monday and 0700 on Tuesday, by Tuesday morning I will have already done at least 15, even though I have until Thursday night to finish the lot. I’m usually done all the grading by Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. I just like to work that way and not feel last-minute pressure. And it’s so nice and quiet when Timothy’s asleep. So I stay up until 0100 or 0200 to get my work done. It’s no wonder I don’t wake up at 0600!

No sir, not me!

The other great thing is that Timothy is not really a morning person. Some days he wakes up between 0700 and 0730, but even when he does, he plays quietly until 0830 or so. I’m spoiled; what can I say?

I love sleep.

But I know that at some point in my life – perhaps sooner, perhaps later – I will have to regularly get up “early.” Whether I’ll have to work or wake up with Timothy, I know the day will come when 0600 becomes the set alarm on my phone (unless of course by then I have a real alarm clock).

Boo.

So for now I will enjoy sleeping in while I can, having a routine that allows me to get up at 0900 five days a week and pad around in my bathrobe for awhile. Call me lazy if you wish. I don’t care. It’s just the way I am.

And sometimes I like being me.

Revisiting high school

2010-02-14T14:45:00.001-08:00

My ten-year high school reunion is coming up this summer, and I’m starting to think about seeing some of my old friends again. We were a small graduating class – 27 of us – and by the time we graduated, I think it’s safe to say we’d all become friends. Sure, there were our spats and rivalries, typical teenage stuff, but I’d like to think we all got along pretty well.

In the past ten years, I’ve seen many of my classmates in different venues – weddings, funerals, spring break road trips, etc., – but there are several I haven’t seen since graduation. Just this weekend, in fact, David, Timothy, and I went to Las Vegas to visit a high school classmate who just had her first baby. I hadn’t seen her since we’d parted ways that eventful evening in June 2000. It was wonderful to meet her husband and son and to catch up a bit. I doubt either of us could have ever imagined that we’d be where we are today.

And I realised that she is the first of my classmates that I’ve seen when she is a mom. In fact, I’ve hardly seen any of my classmates since they’ve been married; the ones I have most often seen are the singles. I guess that’s typical, considering travel costs are double for a couple, let alone a whole family (some of my classmates have three kids). Admittedly, I would love to do more traveling than I am able to now, both because of finances and because of the stress of going anywhere with a toddler.

So it has been a long time since I’ve seen most of my class friends. I have tried to keep up, and Facebook has been a real boon there, but it’s impossible to keep intimately involved with every single person as time goes by. So who are these people in my class?

We are moms, dads, marrieds, singles, teachers, lawyers, doctors, speech pathologists, business partners, students, unemployed, nurses, administrative assistants, store managers, IT wizards, graphic designers, and more!

And although I know we won’t all 27 be at the reunion, I also know that several people who did not graduate with us (who had left before 2000) will be there. It might be an awkward weekend, but it might just as well be an amazing one. So here’s to the Hillcrest Class of 2000: see you soon!

Dead ends

2010-01-13T16:23:00.001-08:00

Once again, as I’m writing, I’m crying. why would anyone want to read my posts when they are so depressed and discouraged?

We had been somewhat excited about a possible opportunity for David, which would help with career advancement and education, but we realized today it was just wishful thinking. Nothing is ever as simple as it first appears.

And so we are literally back to square one. Neither of us in the past year has gotten any useful education, and neither of us is particularly employable. And once again we are living off my part-time salary.

I’ve been given an ultimatum that I must either get a full-time job or take classes so that at some point I will be able to support us financially. After all, if I’d done this a year ago, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. I am obviously selfish and don’t care about my family.

Call me what you will, when I think of dropping Timothy off at day care every single weekday, my heart breaks. The thought is just devastating. I was really lucky to have a stay-at-home mom who was always there.

But you know what, I’d be willing to sacrifice and get a job if I could find a job. I’m willing to move anywhere in the country if I can just get a worthwhile job. I’ve applied for so many jobs and have only had one interview in the whole past year.

And I’d be glad to take classes, but for what?? It would need to be something with a good job market. The only thing I can think of is a health-related field, but I’d have to start from scratch, having only taken biology and chemistry in college – and not even a full year of biology at that. My English degree is only useful for teaching and publishing. If I were to be forced into a teaching career in K-12 (for which I’d have to get my MA in Teaching), I would lose all faith in a loving God, since that career would be for me a living hell. And the job market for English teachers in institutions of higher education is dim at best. So that leaves publishing. Well, unfortunately, the publishing industry is also headed into oblivion.

Everyone says there are jobs out there great for English majors because we have better communication skills than most. But where are those jobs?

People keep telling me they are praying for us, and that God has a purpose for our lives. Yeah, well, He’s not being very helpful in leading us to anything right now. It’s just been one closed door after another – Bam! Bam! Bam! Am I doomed to bag groceries for the next three or four years, just so we can pay our bills? if I could even get a job doing that?? What was the point of my $100,000 education? What is the point of education at all if you can’t get a job??

Okay, enough ranting. Tears alone will have to do for now.

Looking forward to people

2010-01-07T23:24:00.001-08:00

Anyone who knows me would tell you that I’m not a very social person. In most places I’ve lived, I’ve had a small group of close friends but have a hard time making new ones. I’m not big on parties or functions with lots of people. I once had a panic attack in a crowded auditorium foyer. I’m terrible at conversations and can never think of the right things to say, especially on the phone.

But even an introvert like me needs to be around people. My parents were here for three weeks over the holidays and have now been gone for five days. It’s been a really rough week so far. I got so used to having them around all the time to talk to, laugh with, sing silly songs for Timothy with. Now the house is empty and quiet, and I’m shocked to discover how much I want to see other people! Our routine social activities from the fall haven’t picked up again yet. No Bible study, no MOPS, no small group. I was so glad that my friend Heather and her kids were free for us to spend some time with on Tuesday and Wednesday. I still never know what to say, but the only way I’m going to learn is by trying, right? It was fabulous to get out of the house and be around people I like! Thanks, Heather!

And next week, finally, our activities will start up again, so Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays Timothy and I can look forward to being around people. Our little apartment gets lonesome pretty quickly with just the two of us – even worse in some ways now that David is home with us! The other thing about next week is that it is supposed to be sunny – or at least sunnier – so we’ll be able to go for a walk or to the park without my worrying about Timothy’s freezing! Yay! I live and enjoy a sedentary lifestyle for the most part, but even I need to get out and walk sometimes! Maybe we can even kill two birds with one stone – invite someone to walk or play outside with us!

After all, I’ve begun to realize that without something to look forward to, I will just melt away into a depressed oblivion. So bring on the activities! Let me immerse myself in doing so I don’t have to think about the worries of my future!

Avatar

2009-12-29T23:08:00.001-08:00

I’m not sure even where to begin.

David and I watched Avatar on Saturday afternoon – our first date in over a year – and I just feel that I need to sit down and think about it. It’s been three days, and I haven’t taken the time to absorb it. With most movies, I can talk about them for a few minutes and then put them away in my mind as a “good show” or “fun two hours.” Not that Avatar wasn’t a good show – quite the contrary. But after seeing it and not having anyone to talk to about it (David’s not being the type to discuss films), I guess I need to write. It’s been gnawing at me, but I’m not sure why yet. So let me explore a little.

Without revealing too much, the basic plot of the movie is that a medically discharged Marine (paralyzed from the waist down) is asked to serve on a tour to the planet Pandora. On the corporate side, there is a metal found on Pandora that is worth billions. On the scientific side, there is a race of humanoid aliens that needs to be studied…and perhaps politely asked to move their village because of the large metal deposit beneath their home. On the military side, life on Pandora needs to be subdued if not completely crushed – including the aliens – to keep the mission and its personnel safe. And – guess what – this discharged Marine, Jake Sully, is caught in the middle.

But it’s so much more than that. The movie is chock full of colonialism, cultural diversity, newfound life and vitality, faith, values, might and right, self-discovery, betrayal … The list goes on. It’s a little overwhelming, actually, which is why I suppose I’m having trouble absorbing it. Maybe this is a good time to say that I loved the film. Although it’s not perhaps my favorite movie of all time, it’s definitely one I’ll want to watch over and over again, even though it is close to three hours long.

On a more review-type note, the movie is a violent one (in a Sci-Fi way), and I would definitely not take young kids to see it. There’s also a good deal of inappropriate language you don’t want to teach your kids. As for sexual content, it’s there but very limited and not at all explicit. The plot is complex with a few twists that catch you off guard. Great work on the music (another high-five for Horner) and fantastic special effects. Although there was not enough character development for any of the minor characters, Jake Sully definitely got his fair share of depth. The movie has adventure, romance, war, and science fiction, all rolled into one and fairly balanced.

All in all, I’d give it 4.5 stars out of 5. Maybe if you see it, you’ll know what I mean about needing to absorb it. And if you do watch it, let me know so I can have someone with whom to discuss it! As for me, I’m hoping to see it in 3-D. :)

Losing hope

2009-12-05T01:25:00.001-08:00

After all that God had done for us to get us to this point in the process we’re going through with jobs, I was so sure that He would see us through the final round to success. But was I wrong to hope as I did? It’s all out of our hands now. We’ve played all our cards. But there has been nothing yet to suggest we have any hope of succeeding, and the time is almost up for this particular process. The little optimist hiding inside me says that it’s not over quite yet, but each day I wake up thinking maybe this will be the day, and each night I go to sleep weary and confused. Maybe I was wrong, and God is trying to teach us a very difficult lesson: to give up our dreams and trust Him to lead us to something different. But if that’s true, why does my heart wrench each time I think of what could be, and why does all our research into other possibilities end up fruitless? Don’t they say that if God closes a door, He opens a window somewhere else? So if He has closed the door to this future we had hoped and planned on, why hasn’t He opened a window for us? I just don’t understand. I am confused, discouraged, weary, and heart-broken. And I feel very much alone.

From despair to delight

2009-11-05T23:17:00.001-08:00

Forty-eight hours ago, my heart was heavy. The past several weeks (months, really) have been hard for us as a family as we’ve been looking at our future, and everything seemed to be going wrong. Nothing was working out the way we had hoped, and I was near despair. My mind was full of questions. Where would we go from here? How could be manage financially? Would we end up in a place where David and I had to both work full-time jobs in which we’d never see each other because of overlapping shifts? What was God trying to teach us?

And then yesterday, everything turned around, with extra emphasis added this morning. It was funny to me because in my Bible study, we’ve been studying the Patriarchs, and yesterday I read about Joseph’s being taken up out of prison to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams and being set as ruler over all of Egypt during the seven years of plenty and seven years of famine. It was just a perfect parallel to me. I’ve never been in prison, but these past few months, I have felt imprisoned by fear, doubt, hopelessness, confusion, and even grief.

Yet in these past two days, God has lifted my head! I wish I could say it didn’t take His miraculous work for me to be reminded of His faithfulness. I should have been just as aware of HIs presence when everything seemed hopeless, but I doubted. I guess I didn’t doubt Him as much as the plan I was so sure He had set for us. And now I am reminded of His goodness and faithfulness to His children. I don’t want to wax eloquent on trusting God; needless to say, I am still learning how to lean on my LORD. But the relief I feel in these two acts of God – which I really do believe were miraculous – has brought me to tears over and over again since yesterday. God’s ways are higher than mine, and that sure is something to thank Him for!!

Foreigner in a strange land

2009-10-20T21:46:00.001-07:00

I’ve known since my first day of American sixth grade in January of 1994 that I would always be different. Maybe it started before that, when I got teased in 2nd grade for wearing a pair of red “bell-bottoms” (which I don’t actually remember being bell-bottoms, but that is the phrase the kids used) from a thrift store. Didn’t I know those were so out of style? So maybe that was a clue. But in sixth grade, I really felt it hard. Really, really hard.

Since then, I’ve learned to adapt a bit. I’m not a great adaptor, even as a TCK (Third Culture Kid); I like to be comfortable, and I’m not at all good at meeting people. Plus I stink at languages and get embarrassed about that easily, so okay, I’m not as flexible as they say TCKs should be. So sue me. But I’ve moved an awful lot, and I’m really trying to feel at home where I am – enough so that I can make friends but not so much that I will be crushed when I leave.

And I’d felt reasonably at home at the church we’re attending here in Visalia. Sure, I’m constantly aware of the economic chasm between us and most of the church-goers, but it’s something I’ve put toward the back of my mind and don’t usually choose to think about. And I was beginning to feel as though I fit, sort of. This morning at MOPS, I even opened up a little to share some of our family prayer requests. It felt very awkward but relieving to talk about my life instead of just keeping it to myself all the time. And everyone seemed so sweet and interested. It was such a heart-warming experience.

But during discussion time, after hearing our speaker, something just switched off in my brain. We talked about relating to kids and husbands, and the ladies were all talking about dates with their husbands and short trips alone without the kids. All of a sudden, I felt like a complete and utter alien. Dates? Trips? to luxurious places in particular? Are you kidding me? The last time David and I went out with friends without Timothy was in June, but the last time we went out just the two of us without Timothy was a year ago November – to the senior play at Hillcrest, in fact (just after our anniversary). Yep, that was our last “date.” And a trip without Timothy? To anywhere? You’ve got to be kidding me! Not happening. Timothy and I go on trips without David. That’s how it works. A real vacation – to go rest somewhere, just we three? Not a chance. It hasn’t happened in the two years since Timothy was born, and it’s not likely to happen anytime soon. So yeah, I felt completely alienated.

And then, to top it off, we were reminded about the fundraiser MOPS is doing at Macy’s. I mentioned earlier about sixth grade, right? The one time I have ever been to Macy’s was in sixth grade. A dear lady from church, Irene, took me and another impoverished young lady to Westwood and gave us some spending money. I went to Macy’s because all the girls at school talked about it, and I thought maybe if I had something “in",” they’d accept me. (It didn’t work, by the way.) I got a nice, casual button-down long-sleeved plaid shirt that I maybe wore twice or three times ever. And I’ve never been to Macy’s since. It’s just not something that’s ever crossed my mind. I shop at Walmart. I don’t have trendy girl clothes, make-up, jewelry, or shoes. I wear nice jeans and a nice hand-me-down or thrift store shirt with my Nigerian slippers. Sure, sometimes I’d like to dress up and be a little more feminine and fashionable, but I just don’t have the money. Good grief. In an economy like this, when we are scraping to get by every month, to find enough to pay the bills and the rent, how can I possibly consider spending a day at Macy’s??

I want to clarify here that I’m not criticizing my fellow moms, or American culture, or whatever. I admit sometimes I want to be like that, to be able to throw my money away on luxuries. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m materialistic – just like you. And I already feel like I’m not a wise spender. And it’s not that I don’t want to have wealthy friends. That’s silly. But I do wish I didn’t feel like such a foreigner. I wish someone could understand where I’m coming from and identify with me in my current situation. For once in my life, I wish I could belong. Ah well, as I’m learning in my Beth Moore study of the Patriarchs, it’s my spiritual heritage to be a foreigner – teaches me to always keep my focus on the great things to come. And there are great things to come when I cross over!

The line between faith and foolishness

2009-10-17T16:20:00.001-07:00

This is something I’ve often thought about since my college roommate first told me about her now-husband who believed in voluntary poverty and chose to work for room and board rather than a salary. Please don’t in any way think that I think he is or was foolish. Although I don’t know him very well, through his wife’s eyes, I understand him to be smart, wise, and caring, and I’m glad she’s happy with him!

But the question came up then in particular, and now I’m facing it in my own life. What do I mean? Let me give you an illustration from a friend’s personal experience, tweaked a little for his privacy. I have a friend who had a medical condition that was chronic. He spent a few weeks in a spiritual revival a few years ago, and he was 100% convinced that God had healed him of his medical condition because of his faith and prayer. He proceeded to dispose of his medication – just threw it away. He truly believed that God had healed him. The next day when the medical condition persisted, he felt a little foolish. He had to purchase new medication and make sure he took it faithfully from then on. God hadn’t healed him. Was it because he didn’t have enough faith? Or was it because it wasn’t part of God’s purpose? I don’t pretend to know the mind of God, but I think it wasn’t because of my friend’s lack of faith.

So at what point does my faith in God’s power and plan become foolishness? How do I know if I am believing the right things? God helps those who help themselves, right? I believe there can be miracles, and I believe God has absolute power to bring about any situation He sees fit. I also am convinced He has something specific for my future, and that He will bring that about. But is that foolish? What assurance do I have that this specific plan is His actual plan? What if I’m wrong? What if I’ve misunderstood all the supposed signs I’ve witnessed, misinterpreted the events around me? I know it happens. How do I know my faith is based on truth rather than delusion? I desperately want to trust and give Him my complete faith.

I’ve never been one for theology in its formal sense, but I figure there have to be answers to my question – answers that are practical and helpful rather than theological. It’s at times like this when I wish I were back at Wheaton, surrounded by spiritual leaders and mentors, people I could have called upon with such questions, or fellow students with whom to discuss the issues. Alas! I am alone and must wait on God.

Catching up with Timothy

2009-09-27T00:10:00.001-07:00

I know I’ve been absolutely horrible about working on Timothy’s blog. And trust me, it’s not because he’s not funny or interesting! Considering how lax I’ve been on my own blog, I guess it’s hardly surprising I haven’t done much work on Timothy’s. But I’m here to say that’s going to change! So if I have any readers who were reading Timothy’s blog and gave up, the good news is I’m getting back to it! That’s a promise. If I make that promise publicly on my blog, I’ve got to keep it, right? ;)

So let me direct you to the latest post with a teaser photo.

Deepening the pain

2009-09-16T22:58:00.001-07:00

A little while ago, I wrote about the pain of knowing that a friend is dying, and that it’s a slow death.

Well, this week I’m grading argumentative papers for my class, and a common topic has been physician-assisted suicide (PAS). And guess what – in these papers, a common example for justifying PAS is people who are suffering from the illness with which my friend is afflicted.

How do I deal with this? I blog about it.

Over and over again, I see this example and (sorry to be graphic) just want to throw up. I have to wonder if in a few years, my friend will be looking for PAS. If I had a debilitating illness that made me lose control of my body at some point, and if I knew I were going to die, would I be interested in PAS? Probably. How can I really say? But I’m pretty sure the thought would cross my mind, and often.

I don’t believe in PAS, or euthanasia, or whatever you want to call it. I know of people (though don’t know them personally) who have taken what others would consider “a sad death” and transformed it into something beautiful. But I haven’t been there. Is it fair of me to say that people like my friend should never consider PAS? I’ve never been really sick in my life, nor injured. How can I possibly understand what people in that situation might feel?

And it frightens me to think that this person I respect and admire might someday opt for PAS. Right now I’m sure he would say it will never be an option, but what about when things start to go downhill fast? When he can no longer walk, kiss his children good night, even speak? I could never blame him for wanting out, even though I see it as wrong.

How can I reconcile these thoughts? And how can I bear to think of my friend’s being in such misery that he just wants it all to end?

Oh, God, I ask that You would shower him with your mercy and me with your peace.

My pain runs deep

2009-09-03T23:33:00.001-07:00

When I was maybe in 8th or 9th grade, my brother had a tape that included a song with sound clips from Star Trek V: The Final Frontier: “I can’t stand the pain…Your pain runs deep.” (The song is called “Painkiller” by Mortal.) I don’t remember the song at all (nor the movie, for that matter), but I do remember the way the sound clips were arranged, and I can replay them in my mind.

… Part of the reason I started blogging again was for this post. I’ve been mulling it over for two months, but I don’t really know how to write about something so painful to me. Even thinking about it is like sticking burning needles all over myself.

Someone I love is dying.

I’ve never really been able to say that before. I have been so blessed with loved ones who have great health. Sure, I’ve lost older family members, but either they went quickly, or I didn’t know them well enough to really and truly say I loved them. Maybe I’m heartless, but it’s true. My great-grandmother had just turned 96 when she died, and I loved her. But at that age somehow it’s different.

But this person is much younger, younger than my parents (who are not by any means old). He has little kids still.

Maybe you know him. I won’t give his name because I don’t know if he’s made it public yet. Let’s just call him Kevin.

Kevin has been a mentor and a friend, even though in recent years things have changed as I’ve moved away and started my own family. When I was younger, he challenged me to leave my comfort zone in ways I found terrifying yet exhilarating. He’s encouraged me and built me up, especially in times when I needed it most. He’s shown me what it means to have an older brother in Christ. I guess in some ways he pushed me out of the nest and taught me how to fly.

Of course Kevin isn’t perfect. He’s got his faults just like the rest of us. But his death will be a tragic blow to countless individuals literally around the world. And I carry that pain around inside me.

No, he’s not likely to die overnight. He still has a little while to live out his dreams and see his kids grow a few more inches, to be a mentor and friend to many more people. I know he has so much he wants to accomplish and see. Kevin doesn’t give up easily and will fight as long as he can.

But in the end, we all die, and Kevin is likely to go sooner than most of my loved ones. And his last few months are likely to be painful and debilitating. I wish I knew how to handle that fact, handle the grief. If only I could hang out with Kevin face-to-face and cherish the remaining moments of his life! But for now, this post will have to be my coping mechanism, until I figure out how to deal with this in a more constructive way.

Thanks for bearing my pain with me.

Staying focused on the positive

2009-08-29T22:33:00.001-07:00

We moved today, from a town of about 10,000 to a town of about 120,000. Quite a change, let me tell you. And it was a very long day, exhausting. Yet here we are in our new apartment, all of our things and furniture sitting in the living room waiting to be dealt with tomorrow. And that’s a blessing.

Lots of things could have been different and better today, but I’ve been trying to look on the bright side instead of the dark side.

It was 109 today when we were packing up the U-Haul, and I was finishing up packing the kitchen and cleaning up the house in Coalinga. It was hot in the house; I was too busy to think about turning on the swamp cooler until mid-afternoon. It was hotter outside – poor David. But on the bright side, it wasn’t raining! I can’t even imagine how hard and miserable it would have been to move if it had been raining, since there would have been no covered place to load the truck.

We had to drive all the way to Avenal to pick up the truck. It was twenty miles out of our way, either way, and it meant more time on the road, which of course meant more gas for our little Forester (who still needs a name, by the way; I’m open to suggestions). On the bright side, we got an extra 36 hours or so for the truck, so we didn’t have to take it to the U-Haul tonight at 9 pm, after we’d finished unloading. We can go to bed, and David can return it tomorrow. Plus, now we know how to get to Avenal.

We had wanted to get everything done quickly, but it took much longer to pack the truck than either of us expected because we really did have to maximize all our space, especially the vertical space. It was grueling work and took a long time. On the bright side, we were in Coalinga long enough to have a delightful lunch out with my Auntie Mary. We’ll sure miss seeing her several times a week.

Uncle Martin wasn’t available to help us drive the truck and unload this afternoon. On the bright side, he helped us load the truck in Coalinga, return borrowed furniture, clean the house, and rescue me from spiders in the laundry room. And when we got to Visalia (click on the link to see where we are), friendly neighbors helped David carry the big furniture upstairs to our apartment while I was putting Timothy to bed and unpacking the cooler (borrowed from Uncle Martin). A neighbour who is moving out even offered to sell us some of their furniture for a bargain.

I couldn’t fit our two frozen pizzas in the cooler. On the bright side, Uncle Martin bought them off of me, and we used the money to buy dinner tonight. And thank God for sweet tea at McDonald’s.

Packing the truck and cleaning the house took all day instead of just a couple of hours. It was hot and exhausting work, and we didn’t even leave Coalinga until almost six o’clock in the evening. On the bright side, it was a much cooler drive for Timothy and me in our non-air-conditioned Forester than it would have been earlier in the day!

I couldn’t get the wireless to work on David’s computer, so we’re going to have to call our provider on Monday and figure out how to make it work (unless my dad can troubleshoot remotely tomorrow after church). On the bright side, my computer is working just fine with the wireless router, so we do have an Internet connection!

Our apartment doesn’t seem to have hot water. The two showers I’ve taken here have been lukewarm when I’ve wanted a hot shower, the kind that soaks into your shoulders and massages away the knots. On the bright side, we have running water! And my shower was far from cold, which was another blessing!

In any case, as I said, several things about today could have been better. But I’m choosing to be positive and look at the ways in which God blessed us.

Moving on

2009-08-23T22:03:00.001-07:00

The day after the Perseids, I started a post about memories of meteor showers past, but I never finished it, and I wish I had the time to do so. It’s the kind of blog post that needs extra time and energy because it’s actually creative. I miss doing creative writing…

Anyway, we’re moving again this week, to a new town. It’s all happened so quickly that I can barely keep up. But it must be a God-thing because everything just fell into place without any hitches. And as sad as I am to be leaving a church of people I’d sort of gotten to know, a library hour for toddlers, art-time for toddlers twice a week at the Imaginarium, and my fantastic aunt and uncle, it feels right that we’re moving on. Sometimes you can just tell. Peace. That’s what it must be.

Visalia is about ten times the size of the town we’re in right now, and I’ve already found the Walmart nearest our apartment. Yeah! You know you’re moving up in the world when you go from having to drive an hour to the nearest Walmart, to its only being five minutes away! :) We’ll also have our pick of many, many churches for worship and fellowship, so that’ll be interesting and hopefully good. I’d really love to find a playgroup for Timothy, or a MOPs group I can join.

So somehow we’re going to pack up the house, get it cleaned up, and get everything truckloaded over to Visalia this week. I’m swamped with papers to grade Monday and Tuesday, so it won’t be until Thursday or Friday, but I think it will happen. We’ve already found an apartment we like (it even has a pool!) within walking distance of work, so we’re excited about what God has in store for us. It’s a new adventure, and I’m absolutely determined to be positive about it!!

Returning at long last

2009-08-09T23:11:00.001-07:00

I can’t give all the reasons for my having taken a vacation from blogging this summer, but I think I need to return, to some extent. I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s not a passion or a job; it’s like breathing. I don’t think about it. It’s an instinct, and these past two+ months have been a hellish withdrawal. Although many of my reasons for taking a break are still valid, I’ve realised that for my sanity and the wellbeing of my relationships with those around me, I need to write. Whether anyone reads it or not, I have to express certain things or I will spontaneously combust!

So here’s to blogging and to all you faithful readers who’ve stuck with me these past three years. Thanks for making the effort. I hope it’s been worthwhile.

Hiatus

2009-05-29T16:43:00.002-07:00

For various reasons, none of which I really want to talk about, I think I'm going to stop blogging for a little. I'll try to keep up Timothy's blog when I think of it, but this one is just going to hibernate for a little while, along with my Facebook account. Don't ask me why because I won't talk about it! So thanks to all you faithful readers. I hope to be back sometime in the next year...hope being the operative word. Sai wata rana.

Cute tidbits

2009-05-28T07:50:00.001-07:00

I thought the other day, as I watched Timothy play during a break from my work, I’m going to miss so much of his development because I’m sitting at a desk in another room. I envy the moms who are active in their toddlers’ development, the ones who plan activities, art projects, trips to see museums, etc. I sometimes try to do those things, but at this point in our lives, if I don’t work, we don’t eat. Not that any mom sits and watches her little ones 24 hours a day! But maybe if I weren’t working, I’d see more things like this:

The other day, I was cooking dinner, and Timothy came into the kitchen to play. (He really likes to be in the same room I’m in if I let him.) He climbed up onto a chair at the kitchen table, put his plastic peahen on the table facing him, and proceeded to “talk” to it. He used a high-pitched voice and jabbered away at the little peahen. He stuck his face right up into the peahen’s face (it’s about 1-1/2” high) and talked to it! I had to turn around from the stove and just watch for the duration, which was several minutes. It was priceless!
One day last week, I was really tired and went to lie down after dinner. (This is the first time I’ve ever done that.) Timothy came to me and brought me toys and books as I lay there. He climbed up and sat with me. When he brought a book, he lay down on my chest and let me read it to him lying down. When he left the room, he came to bring me his precious Pippin-Bear. Then he gave me a kiss and went out the bedroom door. Within seconds, he was back with his Pascal-Bear. He gave me a kiss again and headed out. But before he got to the door, he turned around and came to give me another kiss! This was so reminiscent of our nighttime routine that I just had to laugh.
Yesterday, I turned around from working at the computer to look into the living room, where Timothy was playing quietly. (Quiet is always worrisome when you have a toddler!) My little boy was sitting across the living room, facing away from me, reading a book, and he had his little hat on! I can never get him to wear the hat, but he was sitting there inside, wearing it, happy as a clam!

These are just some examples of my cutie. I hope I get lots more of these glimpses, even though I’m working. At least I get to work from home!

Dreams

2009-05-22T22:37:00.001-07:00

My name is Saralynn, and I’m a dreamer.

Every night, I dream. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember, and I’ve never really thought about it a whole lot.

But some nights, I do think about it. I’m no psychoanalyst, but every now and then I wonder if my dreams have any meaning. They’re never profound. Sometimes they’re funny. Now that I’m married—to someone who never remembers his dreams—I realize that maybe I’m a little strange. I can remember dreams from as far back as ten years ago as if I’d dreamt them yesterday. Is that unusual?

I come from a family of dreamers, too. My dad has told me that he dreams sometimes about being at school, ready to take an exam, and suddenly realizing he’s never attended class. I haven’t had that one yet, but then I only spent four years in college.

We do have two dreams in common, though. A few years ago, I dreamt more than once within a few weeks that my teeth were falling out! When I mentioned it to Dad, he said he’d had the same dream several times.

The other dream we share is the Travel Dream. This only began for me relatively recently, but it’s a real plague. I can remember distinctly at least half a dozen of these dreams—getting to the airport and not knowing what the flight number is or when the plane is taking off; getting to the gate and discovering we’ve forgotten to check in our baggage; deplaning and realizing there’s some sort of problem in customs… Oh yes, the Travel Dream is quite fun.

But some dreams aren’t fun. I remember clearly my first nightmare as a young adult. It was the spring of my junior year of high school, and it was just awful. I can still see the images in my head and shudder. It even had a monster in it, one I never actually saw but was running from after seeing all my friends killed.

And since I’ve been married, I think I’ve had more bad dreams than ever. My analysis of that fact is simply that I have more to lose now, so more things will disturb me. Sometimes, I’ve even woken up crying and had to wake David to comfort me. Weird.

Last night, I dreamt that Matthew McConaughey sent a car in reverse through a wall just to get someone killed. In the dream, it was someone I knew, and I was screaming, “Michael! Michael!” and scrambling to pull away the plaster and rubble. Then, when I arrived at the car, it was my baby boy, Timothy! He was badly hurt but still conscious, and I tried to get him talking to see if he still had any idea who or where he was. (This of course is dumb because he can’t even talk yet, except for a few words.) I ran all around the accident scene, trying to figure out how to call 911 and wondering how we would pay for the medical bill—all the while crying because Timothy was hurt.

Oy! What a dream! After something like that, I’m almost afraid to shut my eyes tonight. What will I dream of next?

Tammy’s stars

2009-05-15T22:38:00.001-07:00

Last night I discovered that there are glow-in-the-dark stars all over the ceiling in our bedroom. I’d known there were a few clustered over our bedside lamp, but I hardly ever use the ceiling light (mostly because we have no curtains!), so I’d had no idea the stars were all over!

So many emotions went through my mind as I lay there in the dark, gazing up at my starry sky. One thought led to another, and I ended up crying myself to sleep…

…But I want to tell you the first thought I had. Actually, it was a memory more than a thought. I had the very distinct memory of sitting out under the stars with Tammy when I was 12.

We were at the seventh grade camp-out, and I’d just returned from a year on furlough in Los Angeles. It had been a difficult year for me, full of pain and loneliness, plus the normal grief of entering puberty. It had been, quite frankly, a hellish year for me. My poor parents tried to help me, but they had their own worries, and there was little they could do for me.

So I’d returned to Nigeria with such excitement and anticipation. I was coming home at last—to my friends, my school, my house, even my cat.

When I got back, though, I discovered that everything had changed. Everything. I had missed a year in the lives of people who had kept living without me. While I’d spent every day agonizing over my far-away friends and not fitting in at school or church in L.A., my friends had gone on with middle school as usual. The world didn’t stop turning when I left Nigeria. And of course, at 12, I thought it should have! I was devastated to return to a place that no longer had a niche for me.

On the seventh grade camp-out, we had some fun, and then the girls all started singing songs around the campfire—songs they’d learned in choir while I was gone. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked quietly to the lake, sat on a rock, watched the stars, and cried. I couldn’t help it. I was just so disappointed. I needed to fit in, to feel as though I belonged. If I didn’t belong here in Nigeria, where did I belong? Certainly not in L.A.!

And after a few minutes, Tammy came down to sit beside me. I don’t remember if we said anything; I don’t think so. I think she just sat with me while I cried.

Finally, I’d had my nice cry and tried to laugh it all off. We looked at the stars together, and I told her that we’d rename the stars in Orion’s belt. One would be Reuben, one would be Monique (Tammy’s brother and sister), and the middle one would be Tamara. Those would be my special stars.

And I’ve hung onto that memory for the past 14 years. It’s one of my hardest and sweetest memories of all.

[From that point on, Tammy and I actually went our separate ways and hung out n two different crowds at school, but I learned to adjust as the years went by. And we’d had our magical moment.]

Our new home!

2009-05-02T15:38:00.001-07:00

We moved! I spent all day yesterday and all morning today unpacking and arranging. We still have a sore lack of furniture for the amount of space we have, but we don’t actually need much.

So let me give you the grand tour, showing you each room (as much as I took pictures, at least) in its different stages.

Here’s the master bedroom.

And the finished product! Notice the giraffe on the dresser. This piece of furniture has been in our family since my dad was a kid and perhaps even one generation before that!

This is the second bedroom, which we’re using as an office for now:

The living room:

The blue bathroom, which we actually liked blue:

We didn’t paint the kitchen, just cleaned it. But it still looks a lot better than it did!

And last but not least, the third bedroom, which is now Timothy’s room:

So that’s our little cozy home. We like it a whole lot! It will get nice and hot in the coming summer, but we’ll survive with our swamp cooler and ceiling fans. We’re just glad to be moved in and all set up! Now for some bookshelves…

And the funniest part is that now that I have all these microwave recipes, since we didn’t have gas for over a week in March-April, we now have no microwave! Ha!

Wedding woes

2009-05-02T14:14:00.001-07:00

I have been thinking of and feeling so many things recently that I feel as if my brain had been removed, put through a blender, combined with some horseradish, and then replaced. There are so many things that I want to write about, to express, but it seems we never get to say all that we want to, so let me at least make a start with my wedding woes.

I was on Facebook last night - which has become a rather rare occurrence between work, moving house, and watching Timothy - and I saw some photos that my friend Laurie had posted of her friend’s bridal shower. It wasn’t the pictures themselves that made me pause, since I only knew Laurie and none of the other girls. Rather, it was the event itself that caused me considerable vexation. Why should a wedding shower vex me?

I realized last night as I was lying in bed that I have only been to one wedding shower (besides my own) in my 27 years, and that was for my sister. I thought further and realized that I have only been in one wedding (besides my own), and that was my sister’s.

I know I’ve completely overanalyzed this now, but it really made me think hard, and everything I thought just made me sad. Two years ago I was asked to be a bridesmaid in the wedding of my best friend and roommate, Heather (see The Missing Bridesmaid), but I was unable to go because I was in Nigeria and couldn’t afford the airfare. Now I wish I had gone. To be honest, I don’t expect to ever be asked again to be a bride’s attendant.

Two of my friends are getting married this summer. Jessica, once one of my two best friends from high school, is getting married in Texas in June. Anna, once a good friend from Wheaton, is getting married in Ohio in August. And oh! How I’d love to be at both weddings! They are both people whose weddings I always imagined I would attend.

When I was 11 or 12, I expected I’d be in all my best friends’ weddings, but somehow, that’s not how it worked out at all. I know now it was a silly dream, but I just expected that’s how it would be. If you had told me then that my friends and I would drift apart, or that we’d live on separate continents, I never would have believed it. Now all but one of my best friends from my Hillcrest days is married. A part of me has kept dreaming, kept hoping that someone would think of me as a close enough friend to ask me to be in her wedding, but the realist in me says I’ve set myself up for disappointment year after year.

The fact is that I don’t make friends easily, and I tend to cling to friendships like a drowning cat – claws extended. How can I expect anyone to want to maintain a friendship with me in such a situation of desperation? At Hillcrest, we were all forced together since our class was so small, and I think my friends were decidedly glad to have freedom after the tightness of our tiny school. It hurt when we left high school and I heard so seldom from the people I’d loved so dearly and spent every waking moment with for 9 years.

But I’d heard that in college we would make the best friends we’d ever have. So I bulldozed through the frustration, loss, and bitterness (or am still bulldozing, perhaps) and tried to make some friends. In my four years at college, I would say I only had three close girl friends and one close guy friend. Sure, I had lots of friends, and I’ve since graduation become closer to some of my classmates from Wheaton, which is just kinda weird. But in my whole four years of college, we’re talking about four (4) friends. I know without any doubt that these are friend for life, and that no matter what happens, where we go, or with whom we end up, when we get together, it will be like coming home. And one of these dear ones is already married.

It comes down to this: neither of my friends getting married this summer is one of my close friends anymore – whether or not I like it. And it’s expensive to travel all the way from California to anywhere. (This is part of why, as much as I like California, I would rather live in the Midwest.) And at weddings, the bride hardly gets to say boo to her guests unless they’re attendants or family. Is there really any point, then, in my making the pilgrimage to either wedding? I don’t want to be just another name in the guest book. I want my presence to mean something to somebody. So I guess it’s better to just save my pennies this summer, cry a little, and wait. The wedding season of my life is nearly over, but I still have four close friends who are unmarried – one from Hillcrest and three from Wheaton – so I want to make absolutely sure I don’t have to miss the weddings where my presence will mean diddly squat. So here’s to saving pennies – with disappointment, with a little residual bitterness, but most of all with hope.

David’s exam – the rundown

2009-04-16T13:50:00.001-07:00

Thank you to everyone who thought of and/or prayed for David as he took his USMLE Step 2CS yesterday. I meant to write to those of you who offered to pray, just to remind you, but our plans changed at the last minute, and we didn’t have Internet at all on Tuesday or Wednesday until we got home at night. We sure appreciate all your support!

David says that there’s no way he can possibly tell how well he did on the exam. Some cases went smoothly, and he felt great about them. Other cases didn’t go quite so smoothly, and these made him anxious.

But the good news is that it’s over! We have to wait until the end of June for his results, but since there is nothing at all we can do about it between now and then, there’s no point in worrying, right?

Thanks again!

Party’s End

2009-04-12T22:54:00.001-07:00

He’d had a rough night.

Actually, to be more accurate, he’d had two rough nights and an even rougher day between them. As he lay on his bunk, his head was pounding. There was still music coming from somewhere. You’d have thought they’d all be hung over. But no, it seemed just as one partygoer passed out, five more rose to take his place. All he wanted was a quiet room, alone, to sit and think. But in this place, there was no such thing as “alone” and never a peaceful sort of quiet. He’d never before realized how many peaceless kinds of quiet there were. Now he knew.

The party had started on Friday afternoon, and oh! Such a party the world had never seen. Indeed, he thought, it may have been the biggest celebration of all time. Then again, maybe not. He wasn’t one to know much about celebrations. He was more of a do-er than an enjoy-er.

First there had been the announcement of the victory. The king had stood up on the table in the largest banquet hall in the palace, and he had lifted his cup to the greatest victory of all time. Oh, there had been major victories before, and many minor ones as well. Millions of people over the years had been slain, all for the glory of the king. Soldiers on both sides had lived, fought, and died. But this, this was different. This was the ultimate victory. If the king was right, this victory would mean the end of the war. There may be more skirmishes and small uprisings, perhaps, but the end was determined. And the king had won.

He groaned and wished his head would stop pounding. There had been a huge feast, dancing, drinking, and revelry. He couldn’t even count the number of women who had approached him with overflowing cups of wine and other intoxicating drinks. Grasses had been passed around for smoking. It seemed as though the entire kingdom were relishing the delights of victory.

He himself had not enjoyed a moment. Ever since he had woken in his bunk on Friday afternoon, he had been miserable, utterly miserable. Throughout the announcement and the celebration, he had been wracked by all sorts of uncomfortable emotions: guilt, shame, despair, regret, self-pity, and—yes—even penitence. He had tried to slip away from the bright lights and noise, but everywhere he went, it followed him. He got high-fives in the corridor, handshakes in the dormitory, and congratulatory grins in the dining hall. Even in the lavatory, other men would wink and give him a thumbs-up as he relieved himself. It was totally out of hand. Every remark and gesture made him sick to his stomach.

Oh, his head! What he would have given for a healer with some herbs to make his pain go away. Yet even as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He knew that the pain was not mainly from his head. No, the pain was from the depths of his being. For he had done the unthinkable, the unforgivable, the worst deed in history.

Then suddenly, the noise stopped. It didn’t fade away into the distance or lose volume gradually; it just stopped all at once. He rolled over and sat up on the edge of his bunk. Every muscle in his body was sore, but he stood in spite of the aches and pains. Why had the music stopped? Why were there no longer shouts of victory and happiness?

He slipped on his shoes and made his way out of the dormitory and down the long, twisting corridor, to the great banqueting hall. It was full of people, still, but they all lay prostrate on the warm stone floor. Every single man, woman, and child had his eyes tightly shut and his face pressed as firmly to the floor as the forces of nature would allow. For a moment, he was puzzled. And then he saw the dazzling white light exiting the room behind the king. Curious, he followed as quickly sa he could, tripping over the stiff forms on the ground. Oh, they were not dead. No, they only seethed with shock and dismay. What had happened? He dared not speak to any of these, for he knew he was a foreigner. He had known that since he had found himself in this place only two days previously.

He crossed the hall haltingly and tip-toed down the hallway, following the king and the light. He turned the corner just in time to see the king shutting the door into the private royal advising chamber. Feeling no shame at all, he crept up to the door and put his ear to the crack between it and the wall. He was surprised at how well he could hear. Everything else was so still.

“Why are you here?” the king spat. “You don’t belong here. This is my realm to do with what I please.”

“You know why I’m here,” came the reply. The voice was deep, gentle, yet authoritative. He knew that voice. And suddenly his knees felt weak. He collapsed onto the floor in grief and shame.

“You can’t have him,” answered the king in a growl. “He’s mine. He betrayed you, and those who betray you all belong to me.”

“And yet I would redeem him if he confessed and sought forgiveness and repented.” The other voice was firm. “It is my right to take him back. I have paid his ransom. You know the rules. He is free.”

“We’ll see about that,” hissed the king.

“Indeed,” replied the other voice. Then, more loudly, the voice called out, “Judas!”

He staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on the door.

“Judas!” the voice came again. He set his shoulders, turned the door handle, and entered the king’s chamber. All in an instant, he was overcome by all things good—warmth, light, peace, joy, and love. He fell to his knees again, weeping tears he knew not of shame or joy. Perhaps there were some of each. His chest heaved with sobs.

“Judas,” came the voice in light. He looked up into the brilliant face of his lord, the man whom he had loved and the man he had handed over to suffering and death. The man he had betrayed.

“My Lord?” he whispered. The Lord reached out his hand and touched Judas’ shoulder.

“Have you anything to say to me, Judas?” he asked.

The betrayer hung his head. “Lord, forgive me for I have sinned. It was I who led the chief priests to find you. It was I who sentenced you to suffering and death. It was I who caused you to be crucified.”

“Yes, it was,” the Lord responded.

Judas gulped back a sob. “I am responsible, and I am sorry. I cannot imagine how you could ever forgive me, Lord, but I want to change my ways. I want to serve you again as I once did.”

The Lord lifted Judas’ chin to look him full in the face.

“Death has no dominion over me. I have risen, and so shall you. I have paid the price for your sin by my death, and in my resurrection, I choose to free you to eternal life in glory with me.” He smiled. “Judas, oh, Judas! Once upon a time, you were a man close to my heart who devoted his life to serving me. It is my will that you should do so again.”

From across the room, the king let out a sharp cry.

“This isn’t fair! We had an agreement!”

The Lord turned to the king with burning eyes and said, “And as I have conquered death, so have I conquered you. Be gone!”

The Lord took Judas’ hand and gave it a squeeze. “I have redeemed you by my grace. Enter into my rest.”

And so Judas left the dominion of Satan, amid the weeping and gnashing of teeth as the others discovered that in fact, they had lost the greatest battle of all time and eternity.

He is Risen! Alleluia!

************************************

I don’t claim that this is at all theologically sound. I’m not trying to cause unrest, and I certainly am not interested in being burned at the stake as a heretic. This is just a literary interpretation of some of my own private thoughts of what may have happened to Judas Iscariot after his death. Please take it with a grain of salt.

Need prayer

2009-04-07T21:31:00.001-07:00

As David’s Step 2CS licensing exam looms ever nearer, I’m beginning to compile a list of people who have committed to praying for him (at least once) during a one-hour period of his eight-hour exam. If you can commit to joining us in prayer, please leave a comment or contact me by email, telling me during what hour you would be willing to pray for David. The exam is Wednesday, April 15th, from 8AM to 4PM (U.S. Pacific time). I will add your name to my list and contact you on the 14th (assuming I have your contact information!) to remind you to pray. I would like to have a public list (on Facebook and on the blog), so if you would rather not have your name listed for whatever reason, please tell me, and I will put your initials only.

I would like to recruit at least five people to pray during each hour of the exam. This is a lofty goal, perhaps, but God can do anything! Thank you!!

Coalinga – Week 2

2009-04-01T17:09:00.001-07:00

On Sunday, we were glad to be back at my aunt and uncle’s Presbyterian church, which I have attended as a visitor since I was born, practically. The church supports my parents as missionaries in so many amazing ways, and the people are incredibly kind. David and I even got to attend Sunday school while Timothy was watched in the nursery – what a blessing! My aunt and uncle had a barbecue in the afternoon, which we enjoyed immensely. (It actually rained, but we were inside and cozy must of that time.)

Monday, we decided it was time for us to move in. Our landlord had put sheet rock up in the doorway leading to the rest of the house, so at least we would have our privacy. We got all our things over and started settling in. We don’t have all the furniture we need, but we were making do. I was also starting to grade assignments like crazy. I’m an online teaching assistant, and the class’s first written assignment – a 2-3 page essay – was due Monday night. I tried to get as many done early as had been turned in so I wouldn’t be swamped on Tuesday and Wednesday. Fortunately, this worked. But our little house was cold, and I mean frigid. I called up my uncle to see if we could borrow some blankets, and I sent David over to pick them up. All evening, we’d had the oven on at 200F to help warm the place up. We piled at least six or seven blankets on the bed, and when I crawled in, I felt like an Arctic explorer. I’d hardly ever been so cold, and I sure wished our landlord hadn’t removed the wall heater. (Don’t worry; I didn’t leave the oven on at night!)

Tuesday started well if cold. My aunt Mary lent us a space heater, so I changed Timothy’s diaper and dressed him in front of that. I got a lot of work done, went grocery shopping, got a bit more unpacked. A friend from church stopped by with some lifesavers from Costco (paper plates, paper towels, and toilet paper – yay!). We ran some errands, including going to the police station to get David fingerprinted for his CNA training course. When I finally got my act together that afternoon to start making dinner, I discovered that the stove wouldn’t light. I didn’t smell gas, either, so I figured there must be a problem with it, but I had no idea what. Frustrated, I told David we’d have to eat out because I wasn’t prepared to do microwave dinners that night. We had a short meal at McDonalds so that Timothy could play in the kids’ area, and we came right back. Our landlord then came over to start working on closing the hobbit door. I started to fill the sink for dishes and realized there was no hot water. I told him so, and about the stove, and – shocked – he said they must have turned off the gas. He’d been waiting for our April rent to come in before he paid his bill. He assured me it would be on the next day.

It wasn’t. In fact, eight days later, there is still no gas coming into our house. We told my aunt and uncle the next day, and we started looking for a new place to live. This was just the last straw… or so I thought.

Fortunately, that night a kind lady from church gave us an electric blanket to keep us warm. This has been immensely helpful!!

Wednesday, our landlord told us that we needed to change our mailing address from the one he had told us the week before. That’s where he gets his mail, so we needed to add “1/2” to our address. Oh, and by the way, he said, we couldn’t receive mail at the house. Because of certain new rules at the post office, we needed a new mailbox set at the curb. Our landlord said he would put one up soon, once he got the funds.

Okay, so this was after I’d already notified almost everyone about our address change. There was no way I was going to write back and tell them to add “1/2” to the address. I was already ticked off about having to go to the post office to collect our mail. It’s a short walk, but I hated the thought of having to go to the counter several times a week and physically ask a real person for our mail, looking sheepish every time. So when I went to the post office and told him about the whole thing, I said, “You know, we’re not staying at this house. We’ll only be there through April at the latest. What do you suggest?” He gave us ideas, and after careful consideration, yesterday we began renting a PO Box. I think it’ll be much more convenient for everyone.

On Thursday, David went for a routine physical at the doctor’s office – the only doctor’s office in town that performs these specific physicals. We ground our teeth at the cost, but it’s over. Phew.

And that was the majority of our week. I put out a request for microwave recipes and appreciate all your responses and support! I also got to borrow my aunt’s rice cooker and crock pot, plus a few microwave cookbooks, so we’re in good shape for now. I tried my hand at Swedish Meatballs last night, which weren’t very tasty but satisfying, and tonight it’s sloppy joes. Tomorrow I’m going to try Jambalaya in the crock pot. Yeah!

It’s a new and exciting challenge, living without gas. The funniest part is that it’s so similar to our lives in Nigeria. We did all our laundry and baths at my parents’ house because we didn’t have water. Well, now we have water but no heat, so we still do laundry and baths somewhere else! Oh dear. As my aunt said, it’s like I brought Nigeria here with me.

So we’ll be moving as soon as we find a place that’s available. There are two possibilities we’re looking into. Both are houses and more than 1 bedroom, so we’ll have more expenses and more bills to pay. But we’ll also have more space, and I think we’ll be better off than we are here, in the long run. In the meantime, write to us at our PO Box!! (Ask me for it.)

“Water for Life”

2009-04-01T11:51:00.001-07:00

In my Freshman Experience class at college (a required and stupid class for new freshmen), I met a girl named Sarah Day. She was a “Smithy” (girl who lived in Smith Hall), and I was a Fischerite (those who lived in the “opposing” freshman dorm, Fischer), so we didn’t see much of each other at all during our freshman year outside of that 9-week class. She was outgoing and brilliant, and I was shy and had a hard time getting through my first semester of college. I didn’t keep up with Sarah a whole lot during our school days, but she went on to student government greatness and was a political and international mastermind (to me, a lowly English Major). She, too, was a TCK (Third-culture Kid) who had grown up overseas.

Now, Sarah has a vision that I want to share so that it can perhaps be your vision, too. Sarah dreams of working for NGOs and other organizations as a photographer, specifically working with projects that help provide clean water to underprivileged people. If only I had such high aspirations! This is really on Sarah’s heart, and I as an adult TCK in the developing world have seen how desperately clean water is needed in some places. Many countries can afford to provide clean water on their own through the public health system, but some cannot, due to politics and bad infrastructure. Sarah wants to help publicize the need and make that clean water available by her photography. Would you like to help?

She has entered a contest that will give a few people the chance to make their visions a reality. By voting for her project, we can help send Sarah to Africa, Asia, Latin America, and all around the world to minister to people in her talented way. If you feel able or called, please visit the website here (the sooner, the better, for there is a time limit) and vote for Sarah’s project, “Water for Life.” We appreciate your support!

Coalinga – Week 1

2009-03-29T16:40:00.001-07:00

I don’t even know where to begin. The past few weeks have been such a roller coaster of ups and downs, hope and disappointment. I’ve felt both liberty and bondage, relief and despair. This must be what being an adult is all about.

We moved up to Coalinga on March 18 – so excited, so hopeful. We’d paid our last month’s rent the week before as a sort of deposit so our landlord could do some work on the place before we moved in. We were moving into a little one-bedroom place that was being sectioned off of the main house behind. The doorway to the main house had to be walled in, and the landlord had ripped out a gas wall heater and left the gas stub and the hole in the wall bare. (My aunt used the term “hobbit door” since it’s about 5’7” high. In this photo he’s already worked on one side of it; you used to be able to see all the way through.) We were eager to be on our own, and I was especially glad to have my own kitchen space so I could be me. I loved staying with my dad’s brother and sister-in-law; they are such awesome people! Sometimes, though, I felt like I couldn’t be myself because – let’s face it – I’m not the world’s neatest person, and with my eyesight being pretty bad, I have a hard time cleaning up messes that other people see. And trying to constantly clean up after a 16-month-old and keep him out of trouble just about did me in. So it was a relief to have settled on our own place.

When we moved up the 18th, we brought a small moving truck, since my aunt & uncle had given us some furniture as a house-warming gift. We made the long drive (six hours by car) in about eight hours. I drove our car, and David followed in the U-Haul. (I have great respect for anyone who has driven a truck, even a small one!) It was a hot journey, as the air conditioning in our car doesn’t work. David, meanwhile, was wearing his jacket in the U-Haul because he didn’t want to take the time to figure out how to turn off the A/C. ;) And we left San Diego around noon, so we hit L.A. during the beginning of rush hour. Yuck. It wasn’t terrible, but it was bad enough that a few times, I thought I’d lost David at a freeway split. I was glad to get to the mountains and know we were together.

We arrived in Coalinga a bit after 20:00, so we drove the last hour or two in the dark. Lots of bugs on the windscreen… We rested that evening and the next day were able to get keys to our new place. We discussed some of the issues, and our landlord said he would definitely get everything taken care of soon.

So Friday we drove the U-Haul over to unload. We had a delay because our landlord’s car was in the driveway, and we couldn’t reach him either by knocking on his door or by phone. So we waited for a few hours, finally got a hold of him, and tried again. We unloaded pretty quickly but were disappointed that no work at all had been done to section off our apartment, the hobbit hole was still wide open with the gas stub sticking out, and our landlord’s stuff was still all over the kitchen. We had to unload so we could return the truck before we got charged extra, but we decided not to move in yet, since my aunt offered to let us stay with them as long as we needed to.

Saturday, I went over for a few hours to get some work done for my job on the Internet. Our laptop can’t connect to my aunt’s wireless network, and we’d been told by our landlord that we could get a good signal from a local wireless hub for free. Right. It wasn’t free, and it isn’t even a good signal, but I figured we’d be here awhile, so I went ahead and signed up for the service. I got my work done, and that was that.

Thus ends our first week in Coalinga.

Looking for teachers

2009-03-28T11:49:00.001-07:00

Part of my job is looking for teachers for our school in Nigeria, Hillcrest. We’ve almost got our staff sorted out for the 2009-2010 school year, but there are a few positions still not filled. We’re looking for a fourth grade teacher and a high school math teacher. Hillcrest is a very special school to me, and I want to help find the absolute best teachers there are who fit in with the school’s ministry and needs. If you know of anyone who is looking to teach in a Christian school overseas, and you think Hillcrest might be a fit, please have him or her visit the website or contact me. Spread the word!

Desperate for recipe ideas

2009-03-27T15:54:00.001-07:00

Okay, so our whole living situation right now is completely out of control, and I’m going to blog about it soon. I was hoping to wait until it’s over, but that doesn’t seem to be anytime soon, so I’ll have to try to find the humour while still in the midst of the frustration!

Our biggest hurdle right now is that our house has no gas, thanks to our landlord’s not having money to pay the gas bill for March. No hot water, no stove, no oven. Yeah, fun. And it’s not likely to be turned on anytime soon because we decided to move out, so we have no incentive to pay for it.

My thing is that I need to cook for my family without a stove and oven. I have a microwave and a fridge, and a very tight budget. I’d really appreciate any ideas you fine folks might have for microwave meals that are cost-effective.

And I promise I will give the whole story soon. If it weren’t so frustrating, it would definitely be laughable!

Moving

2009-03-11T20:36:00.002-07:00

David and I came up to Coalinga with two thoughts in mind. One was to visit my dad's sister and her husband while we were still in California. The other was to scout out if this could possibly be a place for us to live for a few months. David is still hoping to do an accelerated BSN program in August, but there are a few hurdles to jump first (sadly, none that we can jump).

My aunt knows someone who is willing to rent us a cozy little place in town for a fabulous price, so we jumped at the chance. We'll go back down to San Diego tomorrow, pack up our few things, mail our boxes (to ourselves), attend our church one last time, then head back up here next week. We're hoping to visit my mom's sister in greater L.A. on the way up, as well as meet with a medical friend of my dad's to "network." We should be back in Coalinga Tuesday night or Wednesday (in time for choir practice).

It's been wonderful to be here, finally making real plans, getting ready to put down some temporary roots. My aunt's church is such a warm and friendly place, and I'm excited to be part of it for awhile. They have always been another church family for us whenever we've visited and have been extremely supportive of my parents as missionaries. I hope that somehow, I can give back a little to the people who have given us so much.

I do have a job possibility, too, but I'm not sure it's something I'm really qualified to do. It's more in David's field, but there are complications that make it impossible for him to take the job. So, if we decide I need to work a real job, I'll take it. Otherwise, I'll continue with my two jobs that I'm working part-time from home. We should be okay until we figure out David's situation. It's such a relief to finally have made a decision!

And if David gets into the nursing program, we'll be moving to Nebraska later this year... We'll see what happens!

A different silence

2009-03-08T14:27:00.002-07:00

Yesterday, my aunt Mary and uncle Martin took David, Timothy, and me to a living history exhibit put on by an organization for the deaf and hearing impaired. It was a silent exhibit, with everyone using writing, gestures, and sign language to communicate. People even got thrown in "jail" for talking or making noises.

There were several sections to the exhibit, and you could visit each section, perform a task, and then get a checkmark from that section. If you then visited all the sections, you could become a "member" of the historical village. Well, I didn't get to do that because David took my paper outwide with Timothy, but I still had an interesting time walking around to the different sections with my aunt, trying to understand. There was a kitchen, museum, library, classroom, judge, boutique, snack bar, fishing area, quilting circle, and storytime area.

I found it frustrating, since I don't understand sign language and certainly can't communicate with it. I can sign the alphabet and my name and a few other things, but generally, I've lost almost all the ASL I used to know. I knew I was doing something wrong when I realised suddenly during a signed lecture that I was watching the lecturer's face instead of her hands. I've never been good at reading lips, and she was showing facial expressions, but still, I had to concentrate on watching her signs to try and fathom anything. My biggest frustration was that since I was at the exhibit, it was almost assumed that I knew ASL, so others would try to communicate with me through signing. But I didn't understand a thing!

It was just like being in Nigeria, surrounded by people who couldn't speak English.

But it was fascinating to watch everyone else actually communicating in ASL. I've never had much exposure to the hearing impaired, so although I learned some sign language in grade school, I've never used it and now have forgotten almost everything. I realised yesterday the different kinds of silence there are. Just because a person is deaf, for example, doesn't mean they can't make any sound! I knew that already, but it really became vivid for me yesterday.

It made me truly grateful that I have no hearing difficulties (listening, maybe, but not hearing!), and that I can express myself through tone of voice, musical notes, stressed syllables, volume, pitch, and all the rest. I'm not a big talker, but I'm grateful for the ability to talk. And to hear! This morning at church, I belted out the songs and thought, What on earth would I do with myself if I suddenly went deaf? How could I cope with not being able to hear music?

In addition, it was cool to learn about the deaf community on Martha's Vineyard in the 19th century. It was a neat program. Quiet and neat.

Green card

2009-02-26T21:42:00.001-08:00

David got a phone call this afternoon from my grampa’s wife Julie, saying that they had received a letter for him in the mail that felt like there might be a card inside… and that it was from Texas!

Well, we knew that David’s green card application was being processed in Texas, so David almost flipped out with excitement. It was just like watching my ten-year-old brother Luke (then nine) at Christmas flitting around while we were getting ready to open presents! Here was this 35-year-old grown man practically jumping up and down. I had to calmly remind him that we had to wait until Timothy woke up from his nap before we could drive to my grandparents’ house to get the letter.

I think the wait nearly killed him. We ended up waking Timothy from his nap and heading out. David insisted on driving, and when we got there, he said, “Just stay in the car. I’ll get the card and be right back.” Gosh. Okay, so we watched him go to the front door, saw Julie hand him the letter, watched him open it, and then we heard her say, “Congratulations!”

Yay! David has his permanent residence card! We celebrated with dinner out, just the three of us. We’ve waited for this for so long! (And yet not nearly as long as so many people have to wait.) Tomorrow (after he takes the TOEFL) we’re heading to the Social Security Administration. Yippee!

I’m Linked

2009-02-23T11:32:00.001-08:00

I’ve joined LInkedIn (actually a few months ago) and am still looking for contacts, so if you would like to be in my professional network, let me know. Here’s my public profile. Please feel free to make suggestions on how I can make it better.

http://www.linkedin.com/in/saralynnbnege

Some answers

2009-02-22T15:09:00.001-08:00

This week was hard, and I’m glad it’s over. It’s not that there was anything in particular going on. It was just a bad week. We all have those. You know what it’s like. And now it’s over. Phew.

We did get a few things done this week. The most fun news is that David passed the driving test for his California driver’s license!! Yay! We all knew he could do it, but it’s still a relief to have it over and done with. Congratulations, David!

We were also able to finally start the application process for David’s first USMLE exam. We submitted all the necessary documents and now have to wait—possibly several months—to schedule the exam. He actually applied to take the most complex test first, for reasons that are difficult to explain unless you know the process, so we’re hoping that sometime in the next eight or nine months he’ll be able to take that exam and maybe one or both of the other two.

One of the downsides of this week was hearing that it may be another two weeks before David receives his green card, and we’ve heard differing opinions on whether we can apply for his SS number before we get the green card. In any case, we’re a little wary of applying to jobs for him until we have his SS card in hand. So we’re taking a break from that for a week or two.

I’m still actively job-hunting. A friend told me about a possible part-time job at a church nearby, and initial feedback was positive, so I’m going to follow up on that this week. I’m also training to be an online teaching assistant for a college, which would be part-time, too, but still something. And a friend has offered to pass my resume on to a family friend who works in publishing. So… who knows? They’ll probably all fall through, but at least I don’t feel as desperate as I did last week.

Also, David is going to be taking the TOEFL this Friday(the Test Of English as a Foreign Language), which should help him if he ends up doing any academic training (grad school or nursing). And I signed up to take the CBEST, which would then allow me to apply to be a substitute teacher in California.

Other fabulous news is that David has agreed, after reading a very persuasive piece of mail from a very special person, that it’s not in our best interest for him to join the military. YAY!!!

However, we still have no idea what our long-term plans are for 2009, how long we’ll be in the area, whether or not to start looking for an apartment, etc. It’s frustrating to still be in limbo, but we’re trying to take it all one day at a time. I still have many more “down” days than “up” days, but at least I can put on a happy face for my blog-readers. :)

Slump

2009-02-17T22:05:00.001-08:00

What does one blog about when one is so depressed that one simply wants to stick one’s head in the toilet and flush? If anyone has any answers to that besides “God will see us through” or “$&%#*@$#,” I’m all ears.

In the meantime, I will spare anyone who might actually still be reading this blog the misery of reading about my despair.

Have a good day.

Hard decisions

2009-02-06T15:12:00.001-08:00

We’ve been in the States for a week now and are faced with lots of hard decisions. My aunt and uncle have been super nice about letting us stay with them, and we’re slowly settling in. We’ve got cell phones now and just got a computer the other day. We’ve just found a great car that fits our budget (though we haven’t finished the transaction yet), and now we’re making decisions about work.

I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to not blog about it until we’ve made our decisions, since that way I won’t have to go back and forth. But now you all can experience the yo-yo life I’ve been going through for the past few months.

Originally, when we planned to come to the U.S., we thought David would do his medical licensing exams and start applying to residency programs this fall, to begin next spring or summer (2010).

There were complications with that, and delays, so we thought our next best option would be to look for work and take another year to do David’s examination process. We’d both have to work, especially if we stayed in California, and David would start applying for residency programs to begin in mid-2011.

But if we’re going to take that long to do the exams and residency application, David thought maybe he should do a 12-month accelerated BSN so that he’d have a ready-to-go career as a nurse in case something went wrong to delay his residency entrance. The problem with that is its cost. But we figured we could manage it somehow with loans and grants.

…Except that when we sent David’s transcript in to a service to be evaluated for the BSN program, we were told that it must be sent to his school for verification (probably because of his lost diploma). That will set his BSN applications back several weeks, if not longer. By that time, the programs will probably all be full for the fall semester. There goes that idea.

So now David has visited an army recruiting office and is dialoguing with them about enlistment. It’s not our first choice by any means. In fact, I’m very dubious about it. He can’t be an officer because he’s not a U.S. citizen, so even though he has a bachelor’s degree, he can only serve at the bottom of the totem pole. Yuck. On the other hand, it would be a stable job with benefits in a gloomy economy… but would require his being away for two months of basic training, plus specialty training, not to mention any tours overseas. Hmm, this doesn’t sound great to me.

But since he hasn’t gotten his green card yet, technically, I have a few weeks to find him an alternative job. I’m desperate—beyond desperate. I’m panicking. If I can’t find anything for him, or a full-time job for me that could at least help keep us afloat, we’re doomed to the military life. I have to believe that since God is merciful and gracious and loving, He has something better for us in mind than the army. But my hope is failing… failing…

Holy Cross Catholic Church

2009-02-05T09:35:00.001-08:00

We left Jos on Saturday, January 24th. It was heart-wrenching, and my mom was crying. But we felt that we were doing the right thing, and so that was a comfort.

The next day, we decided to go with David’s sister-in-law Stella and her household to mass. We woke up a bit late to join them for the 8:00 service, but we decided to go anyway. We got dressed hurriedly and waited downstairs. Around 8:15, the others showed up, ready to go. Stella has three kids, aged 11 months, 4, and 5. She also has three helpers in her house, two young ladies and a young man. And we were all going to church. One by one we piled into her SUV. It felt like one of those clown shows at the circus in which the clowns keep getting into and out of the vehicle that obviously can’t hold that many people. Well, there we were, in an SUV supposed to seat four passengers. Stella and David were in the front, David holding the baby Sasha. In the back, the three helpers and I were squeezed in, three of us holding kids on our laps. It was the kind of thing that ought to have been photographed except that they probably saw nothing funny in it at all. Just picture it: six adults and four children all fitting into an SUV!!

When we got to church, the sanctuary was full, so we found seats on benches outside at the back under a tree. The sermon was already in full swing, but I couldn’t hear to understand it. One of the helpers took the two older children to children’s church while the other took care of Sasha. After we’d been seated on the bench for ten minutes or so, a man came to tell us there were about 20 seats in the front; would we please go with him? I declined, preferring to sit outside with Timothy, but Stella went with him inside. For the next hour, we enjoyed ourselves immensely, listening to the singing and liturgy but not having to participate. Timothy played with seed pods, threw dirt, and chased two goats across the churchyard. I’ve hardly ever enjoyed church more!

So our last Sunday service in Nigeria was a great hit amongst us. We’ll remember it fondly. Thanks, Holy Cross Catholic Church!

in America

2009-01-30T14:48:00.002-08:00

Just a quick note to say that we made it here to California safely and - for the most part - soundly. We're exhausted and dealing with a lot of emotional stress while we finish up college applications and figure out our lives.

I'll keep you posted...

The next few weeks

2009-01-17T02:36:00.001-08:00

I hope Chiato delivers her kittens before we leave! It would be so fun to meet her kittens and get to name them! But we'll just have to be patient, I guess. You can probably induce kitty labour, but I don't know anything about it, and since I don't want my kitty to end up with a kitty C-section, I'll just wait patiently, thank you very much.

Well, we're very nearly "all packed," which is not at all the same thing as "ready to go." There are still piles and piles of stuff in our house that I'm not sure what to do with. A lot of it is good stuff that I'd hate to just throw away. But to whom shall I give it? I have another whole box full of borrowed items that we need to return. And then there's our few dishes and silverware that we've held onto after selling the rest. There are still pieces of furniture - our dining room table, living room furniture, two bookcases, David's dresser, and our "hanger" (wooden structure for hanging our clothes, since we have no closet) - and all of David's stuff, which he refuses to pack until the last minute. When I asked why, he said he didn't need to pack any earlier. "But what's the advantage of waiting?" I asked, to which he responded, "Because I can." Ah, of course. Very logical.

We plan to send most of our things down to the capital on Tuesday with a neighbour who's traveling with an empty van. She'll leave the luggage at a guest house for us to pick up on Saturday when we get a ride with other friends. At least, this is what we hope will happen. This is Nigeria, so we must expect that several things will change between now and next Saturday. Assuming all goes reasonably well, we'll spend our last three days in Abuja and fly out next Tuesday, the 27th, to arrive in San Diego in time for dinner on Wednesday the 28th. Wow. It's so crazy I don't even know how to comprehend it all.

From the 28th on, things get pretty hazy. Our top priorities immediately will be getting a cell phone, a car, and David's driver's license. Then we job hunt and finish our applications to schools for David to do a one-year nursing degree. If he gets a fabulous job, we won't go to school, but if we get lousy jobs or no jobs, he'll start school in August. (At least, we hope so.) Where? Good question! No clue. It's all pretty fuzzy. Oh, and what will we do until August? Again, no idea.

Some people have commented to me that they're so moved by our leap of faith, but I'd better clear that up right now. There's nothing moving or spiritual about this for me. There should be, but I am one of the greatest worriers of all time. I can't sleep at night for worrying about everything. David, probably, has huge faith in a benevolent God and knows that everything will turn out all right. And I know it in my head, too. My heart, though, is all twisted up in knots about this venture. So don't even think about applauding my faith. I don't belong on a pedestal. Please take me down!

Evenings

2009-01-17T02:07:00.001-08:00

One of David's relations had surgery on Wednesday, so we went down on Thursday evening to pay our respects. He was pretty miserable and out of it the whole time we were there, but his son Dominic was around, so we stayed to chat a bit. David and Dominic were classmates in primary school.

I noticed after being in the ward for about five minutes that I wasn't smelling anything. Usually, there are all sorts of smells in the male ward, the two most prominent of which are urine and disinfectant. But that evening, I smelled nothing. It was pleasantly surprising! I also noticed some improvements in the male ward since the last time I'd been there (at least a year ago). There are now bright blue mosquito nets hanging over most of the beds. (These were all drawn up when we were there, so I don't know if they actually get used, but I assume they do.) Also, the lighting was actually quite good. Only one of the fluorescent bulbs (of perhaps ten) was working, but most of the half dozen incandescents were burning merrily. With music from someone's radio, it was almost cheerful in there - a thought I'd never have had a few years ago... But then I've never been a patient there, and I'm sure that makes a huge difference, too.

**********

Yesterday evening, as we were getting ready to finish up some packing and head to my parents' house for pizza, I heard crackling outside and knew immediately that there was a fire. This is a very agricultural community, and fire is just part of the package of dry season: slash and burn. So no one really panics when there's a fire. After all, that's how we get rid of most of our trash - by setting fire to it. I t hink Africans must be experts at controlled fires.

But it was still a very large fire, and the longer I stayed in the house, the more I worried that it might spread beyond control. I hurried David to finish what he was doing so that we could get out of the house. The smoke was billowing, and the stench followed us the 100 meters to my parents' house. And yet the fire was contained.

This morning, there's a very large patch of black earth outside our house. I guess the good thing is that if there's another controlled fire, there's so much ash in front of our house that there's nothing left to burn!

Babies, kittens, eye doctors, and denied diplomas

2009-01-11T04:39:00.001-08:00

What do these all have in common?

Umm...Nothing, really. Except that each thing has a bearing on our lives right now.

Babies

NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT. On the contrary, I am happily the mother of one rambunctious boy and am praying to my gracious Heavenly Father for the energy to take care of just one.

No, it's my friend Katharina who has just delivered a darling baby girl. I don't know Katharina very well, but she is also a Niger wife (foreign woman married to a Nigerian man) and got married a few months after David and I did. She's from Germany and is quite a delightful person. We bonded a bit after I sent her a text that she should come get some of my baby things. I ended up giving her some clothes and blankets plus sundry items that those of you who have delivered may remember from your own experiences. (Excuse me for not elaborating. If you've delivered, you can probably guess, and if not, never mind.) She asked me lots of questions about labour and delivery, and I felt like a real expert.

She was due January 2, so early last week, I started carrying my phone around with me wherever I went, just in case. (The hospital is a five-minute walk from our house, so I'd offered to be available in case Katharina and her husband Israel needed anything during the delivery.)

Wednesday evening, David, Timoth, and I took an evening stroll and saw Katharina's car at the maternity ward. When we stopped in the ward, we heard a nurse say that the gynaecologist was sewing someone up after a delivery. David knew then that it was Katharina! When we got home, I sent a text reminding her that we'd love to help. She called an hour or two later to say that yes, she'd delivered a baby girl, and they were hungry. So I took them down some dinner and got to meet beautiful Baby Jireh. What a precious gift! Hearing about the labour, I was really struck with how easy mine was! It was hell on earth, but it was short, compared to most first-baby deliveries. (Poor Katharina was in labour for 16 hours!) And I was also reminded that I do not want to have another baby anytime soon!! But here's to Jireh and her strong parents!

Kittens

I keep forgetting to mention that our cat, Caramel Macchiato (who has become my parents' cat) is pregnant! She's about to burst, as far as I can tell, but then I've never actually had a pregnant cat before. We have no experience with feline births or kittens. I'll be sure to post when she delivers, but in the meantime, I'm welcoming suggestions and advice from experienced cat doulas.

Eye doctors

David and I both got to visit our eye doctor this week. I say "our" not because I've been to him several times but because he's a neighbour I've known for over ten years. He's not actually an ophthalmologist proper but has had eye training and holds some sort of diploma. To me, he's as good as an ophthalmologist.

It sure was different from visiting the eye doctor in the States. For one thing, it was a lot cheaper! But aside from that, it was just a much more pleasant experience. I didn't get any eye drops, and that made all the difference. It was kind of fun to put on the pair of frames that had empty slots of lenses instead of using the big machine that eye docs use in the States. More than that, though, when the optometrist tried different lenses on me, I could read three letters on the line below 20/40!!

I guess that calls for some explanation. My mom's side of the family has a history of congenital optic nerve atrophy, where the optic nerve degrades over time. I've worn glasses since 2nd grade, but my eyesight has never been better than 20/40 even when corrected. If your vision is 20/20 or better, there is no way I can make you understand what it's like to need glasses. Without my glasses, I can't see the letter on top of the chart. In fact, the nurse had to be about five feet away before I could even tell how many fingers she was holding up. We're talking about being blind as a bat, seeing only shapes and colors. I can't even read a book without needing my glasses. And when the optometrist took my glasses away to measure the lenses, I nearly had a panic attack. Being without those little bits of shaped plastic is like being deaf or mute or paraplegic. I had to keep my eyes closed as much as possible because only then can I not tell that my glasses are removed. It's awful--tight chest, watery eyes, quickened pulse. I was sure glad to get my glasses back.

And I was glad to hear that new lenses might be able to allow me to see three letters better than 20/40! Yeah! David got glasses, too, but he doesn't think he'll really need to wear them. His vision is better than 20/40 without glasses! I hope Timothy has inherited David's eyes and not mine.

Denied Diplomas

David has applied to his school for a replacement diploma and has been informed that the school doesn't give replacements, ever. But after consulting the organisation that will license David to practice, we understand that a letter from the university dean saying as much will suffice. Phew. David will go to Zaria tomorrow to apply for that letter in person, and he'll be gone a day or two if we're lucky. So hopefully we'll still apply for David's USMLE steps, and he'll take them this spring and summer. But we're also applying for him to do an accelerated BS in Nursing, just in case.

So much going on!! Between all this and packing and sorting... We've already sent two boxes of books with a friend who traveled Thursday, and I'm so relieved. We also have prospects to take two more small boxes of books. It'll all work out somehow. We leave Jos in 14 days, the country in 16 days. Kai!

Est/Ouest

2009-01-06T03:35:00.001-08:00

We watched the movie Est-Ouest (East/West) last night, and it's haunting me still. I can't explain it exactly. Sometimes, movies just hit me that way. Titanic was the same way over ten years ago.

Briefly, Est-Ouest is a French film following a Russian doctor and his French wife who return to Communist Russia after WWII, when Stalin issues an invitation to all who fled in 1917 to return. Alexei and Marie Golovine arrive in Odessa with their young son and discover that the welcome they hoped for is nowhere near the truth. They are both faced with the bleak reality of life in Kiev in 1946, and it tears apart their lives.

Maybe this movie impacted me because David and I are also a cross-cultural couple, and because we're probably going to make several moves in our marriage, some presumably to "challenging" places. Not that I'm worried that our marriage would completely fall apart. We have a solid base in Jesus, and we've made the commitment to stay together through thick and thin, in wealth and poverty, sickness and health. But the stress could still be there someday. And I sympathise so strongly with the character Marie. My heart goes out to her. And the decisions that she and Alexei made at the end of the movie--what would I, or we have done?

I recommend the film. It's rated PG-13 for some adult scenes, so I wouldn't suggest you let your kids watch it. But it's definitely worth seeing.

Selling our lives away

2009-01-04T10:12:00.001-08:00

We were invited recently to partake in a community sale yesterday morning, so I spent all day Friday going through our things--mostly clothes, baby items, and wedding gifts--and pricing them for sale. It was a huge task and took me all day long. I priced as many things as I thought would fit into my parents' car. (We don't have a car, and my dad had agreed to transport our stuff to the sale.) They have a little station wagon, and somehow we managed to fit everything in.

David agreed to stay home with TImothy to allow me to work the sale, but about a half hour before we were to leave, he got called from the hospital and discovered that he was on call. (Each month they had out a call schedule, but it's always a few days late.) Since we're leaving in 3-1/2 weeks, he had told the chief resident that he wouldn't take any more calls. After all, he won't get paid for them. But there had been a misunderstanding, so David had to stay home and take the call. So we packed Timothy into the car with all the stuff, and Mom agreed to watch him at the sale.

We got to the sale later than I'd have liked (my parents had had morning visitors who delayed them at the last minute), so I was still setting up while people were pawing through our items. We were assigned two square plastic card tables side by side, with an umbrella in one. Thank goodness for that umbrella! It turned out to be quite a warm day, despite its being January and dry season.

The wedding gifts I'd brought to the sale were all dishes of some sort. We were already using three sets of dishes--two of which we sold as used--but the rest were in boxes and still brand-new. They went like hot-cakes! My kitchen utensils, too, were snapped up right away. The other stuff took longer to sell, but by 12:15, we'd gotten rid of at least two-thirds of our stuff. Yeah! And we made over $350! Very successful, I'd say. We did come home with quite a bit still, but if we don't sell it, we'll either take it with us or give it away. I'm not too worried. A lot of people lost their homes in the recent unrest, so I'm sure our things will be put to good use.

A Dutch family came by after the sale to pick up some of our furniture, too. We had to scramble to get it all cleaned out before they arrived! But we managed. And they somehow fit it all into their van. Phew! We sold our hutch, so now we have our dishes on a bookshelf, the way we did for the first 8 months we were married. And we sold our TV stand, nightstand, and bedside dresser. So there's a lot of stuff on the floor! Tomorrow I'll have to start sorting that as well. Fun fun fun!

Addendum to the shape of our future

2009-01-01T02:44:00.001-08:00

Someone made a surprised comment that we're still planning on moving to the U.S., so I thought I'd better explain that.

We've already bought our plane tickets to fly out of Abuja on January 27! After an overnight flight to Malabo and then Frankfurt, we'll catch a flight to Chicago, where we have five hours of layover, and we end up in San Diego by about 18:00 on January 28. Since we've already bought these tickets, we're going, regardless of whether or not we have the diploma!

Although our plans may be pushed back a year as far as David's licensing, it's still in our best interest to go ahead and move now. David will be able to get better test prep in the States, and if we both have jobs, we can be saving a little money (hopefully!) for when he's a resident.

Then again, even though we still don't have David's diploma and probably will not be able to get a new one before we leave, we hope we will still be able to apply for David's exams, to be completed this spring and summer. We're not sure it's possible, but we're going to try anyway.

And the biggest reason for our continuing on as planned is that David's entry visa to the U.S. lasts six months. We knew that when we applied for the visa, and we are definitely seizing the chance to move as long as that lasts. If we stayed here and let the visa lapse, we'd have to start again from the very beginning, losing time, money, and sanity!

So we are still moving to San Diego in 3-1/2 weeks. We're still in need of housing, a car, and jobs. Kai. Thanks for all your support!

See David's résumé on Yahoo HotJobs.
See my résumé on Yahoo HotJobs.

The ghost of New Years Past

2008-12-31T11:38:00.002-08:00

[Yes, that's grammatically correct: The ghost of past New Years (pl)]

I can't actually remember the way I've spent very many New Year's Eves, but there are a few that sure stand out in my mind. While I'm waiting for my dad to finish installing a new light fixture so that we can play games, I thought I'd reminisce about these evenings past.

When I was little, living in L.A., we had New Year's Eve celebrations at our church. I remember going once and playing a game that had a lot of balloons. But that's about all I can remember. I do remember when we lived at UCLA student housing on Sawtelle Blvd (between 1986 and 1989) that we brought in the new year with Martinelli's, and we listened to the popping of firecrackers. I remember loving the bubbles in my drink. Who needs champagne when you can drink Martinelli's?

For the New Year in 1998, I spent an evening at our neighbours the Kirschners' house. Our families all had dinner together, and I stayed--along with an Australian medical student--to watch a movie. Maybe it was It's a Wonderful Life. We also played some game I can't recall and ate lots of Christmas cookies.

One of my absolute favourites, though, was New Year's Eve 2000. I was at the Urbana '00 convention in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois. It was below zero outside, with piles of snow on the ground. But inside the stadium 19,000 of us were worshipping together, singing Christmas carols, and partaking in holy communion. I prayed for Nigeria that night, and God was in our midst. There is nothing more awesome than that.

New Year's Eve 2002, I went to a party with my roommate Heather two suburbs away. I didn't really know anyone, and it wasn't a particularly fabulous party. I was pretty bored as I watched the others eat pâté on crackers, drink their wine, and talk about philosophy. It was after two when Heather was ready to go home, and she offered to drive, having drunk two glasses of red wine. I gently told her that no, it was okay, I would drive her home. After I told her good night, I wrote out a will in my car before continuing on home. I was so paranoid that I'd get hit and killed by an idiotic drunk driver before I reached home! Okay, so that was pretty ridiculous, but it was there on the seat beside me just in case!

It was either the next year or 2004 when I enjoyed a party at my sister Lisa's house with her friends Rachel et al. She happens to be cursed--or blessed?--with a birthday on New Year's Eve, so it generally does not get nearly as much attention as it deserves. That year though, we did plan a party, and we played Cranium until late in the night. We were goofy and had a great time!

And perhaps the worst New Year's I can remember is New Year's Eve 2005. I was living in San Diego and had agreed to housesit for my friends from church. It was a lovely chance to get out of my own home for a few days, and to enjoy their two cats (and their selection of movies!). It was peaceful and quiet. I'd invited my friend Jen over to play games or watch a movie with me. Sometime in the afternoon, as I was watching Star Wars (I'd had the idea of having a marathon that day), my dad called from Nigeria. He told me that the four-year-old son of some fellow missionaries had drowned that day. I didn't actually know the little boy, but it was still devastating news. I didn't feel much like partying after that. So when Jen called to say that she'd been invited to another party, did I want to come? I said I'd rather stay home, thanks. I didn't know any of those folks anyway. Just after Jen called, I got a prayer-chain message on the answering machine where I was staying. Someone in the church--not knowing that the home-owners had traveled--asked us to pray for a young man in the church, Bryce, who had fallen off a ladder and broken his wrist rather badly. He needed surgery right away. So i prayed for Bryce, and for the missionary family in Nigeria, and I just wallowed in self-pity as the minutes rolled over to 2006.

This year, we're hoping to play games. Luke's watching Peter Pan, and Timothy's in bed. It's a relief and a joy to be with my family, warm and safe, celebrating the end of another full and wonderful year, ready to welcome the start of a brand-new one. Here's to New Years past, and to New Years of the future!

The case of the missing diploma

2008-12-26T13:15:00.001-08:00

Okay, so we've been waiting and waiting for David's medical school diploma to be ready for us to pick up. He passed his exams in December 2003, and his diploma was finally ready in July 2008. Yep, almost five years. We need the diploma for David to register to take his medical licensing exams in the States. When the diploma was finally ready and signed, David's sister Vic, who lives in the same town as David's university, went to get it from the school...

...oh, except, whoops! His name is misspelt as "Ndge" instead of "Nege." So she took it back, and David had to actually go to the school in person to apply for a corrected diploma. They told him it would be ready in three months...

...which takes us to October. Well, haha, just kidding. It wasn't ready in October, but then we hadn't really expected it to be. Vic went back at the beginning of December, and they told her to come back after the Muslim holidays for Sallah...

...and, what do you know? It was actually ready when Vic went back a week or two later. We were so excited that we'd finally get the diploma. It was even spelled correctly and everything. Once we had it in hand, we could start applying for David's exams...

...so I thought it was a little strange that Vic didn't call when she arrived in Jos on Wednesday. She'd said she would be bringing the diploma, and I for one was on edge waiting for it. David finally sent her a text last night, and she replied that she'd come to visit us today, Boxing Day...

...And they did come just before lunch--Vic and three more of David's siblings. We had a nice chatty conversation, and then right as they were leaving, David told me that Vic hadn't brought the diploma. I didn't ask, just waited. He said that she had lost the bag containing the diploma on her way from Zaria to Jos (by public transport). Ah. What he actually said was that "the bag went missing." So really, no fault of Vic's at all. She didn't lose it. It went missing on its own accord. Yup. Well, I love Vic. She's my sister-in-law...

...but I still want to scream and tear my hair out. What are we supposed to do now? ALL of David's medical career hangs on that diploma. Without it, we can do nothing. And losing it could put us back a whole year in our plans since it will probably take several months to get a new one. AARGH!!

The shape of our future

2008-12-08T05:10:00.001-08:00

It's true: We're moving to the U.S. in January. The truth is that we'd been thinking and praying about this until this spring, when we had the opportunity to hire a lawyer to make it a reality. Since May, we've been filling out forms, gathering documents, and fervently praying for David to be granted an immigrant visa to the States. On 4th December, he had a successful interview, and a friend will pick up the visa this week. We already had a tentative booking for a flight leaving January 27, and now we hope to confirm it and buy the tickets this week.

"Wait...what?"

The first thing I want to say is that I am not coercing my husband into this. I have been supportive of his decisions, and I would have been happy to remain here forever. He didn't decide to go on his own; we made the decision together. But we are not moving because I can't hack it here. We're not leaving because I'm tired of not having running water or because our apartment is falling apart, or even because I'm sick of the dust. No, I'm not a tough old-fashioned missionary who has washed her clothes by hand all her life and hauled water from the nearby stream. But I've lived here most of my life, and I'd like to think I could have stayed here until I died. And hopefully we'll be back in a few years.

So no, we're not leaving because of me. At least, I hope not.

We're leaving because David plans to undergo more medical training in the American system. Specifically, he is hoping to start a residency in family medicine in the fall of 2010. For this to be possible, we must go to the U.S. for him to take the required licensing tests and go through the application process. If he can get the testing done by August, he can apply for programs next fall and start in 2010. This is our hope.

In the meantime, what? Well, we're flying into southern California, my "village," where most of my extended family live. For the first month or so, David will study for his exams. At the same time, he'll be looking for work to begin after the testing is over. (I'm not sure about my work situation yet...) So for the foreseeable future, we'll be in greater San Diego. After David gets into a residency program, who knows? We're open to living anywhere except Florida and New York City, pretty much, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see where God leads!

David's already begun studying for his exams, now that he has the visa, so I get to do all the dirty work of finding housing, jobs, and a car (with my Aunt Pamela's help--thank you!!); packing; buying our plane tickets; and selling all our belongings! (We can only take two 50-lb boxes each.) Needless to say, I have my work cut out for me.

So that's our news, in a nutshell. Our leaving comes at a good time, as this Christmas, we can concentrate on giving instead of on receiving. And we do have lots to give. ;)

It's raining!

2008-12-04T07:00:00.001-08:00

Rain in December hardly ever happens! And, oh no! I think the Niger Creek hostel has its roof off to be redone. Oops!

But it sure feels nice. And sounds lovely on the roof. I'd forgotten how much I love the sound! It mixes quite nicely with Christmas music--not a normal combination in Jos!

Moving on

2008-12-04T01:07:00.001-08:00

Thank you to those of you who prayed for David's big interview this morning. It went well, as far as I can gather. I haven't heard any details, but David said that it went well...

...which means that we will be moving to the States next year! More details to come.

Waiting

2008-12-02T11:32:00.001-08:00

No offense to Americans, but we are an impatient people. Perhaps this is a good thing in some ways, for it seems to have produced a system in which efficiency is important. Time is money, and therefore, things must move quickly or someone loses cash. It's got its downsides, though, too. We hate queuing, delays, traffic, tardiness. We don't value the things we do but rush to get them done so we can move on to the next thing. Instead of enjoying, for example, a snow day, we worry about the delay in the work we could be doing at the office. While stuck in traffic, we could listen to uplifting music, pray, compose poetry, or use our expansive imaginations to create tales about people in other cars. Waiting in a queue on Black Friday, we could strike up a conversation with the woman behind us about her purchases or her Thanksgiving feast.

Yes, that's idealistic. I myself am guilty of impatience. I feel for Inigo in The Princess Bride: "I hate waiting." I want things done now, not tomorrow, and certainly not two weeks from now.

Africans, my husband included, have a lot to teach me about waiting. I'm not sure whether they're good waiters because the system is so slow in general, or whether the system is so slow because people don't mind waiting; it's the chicken and the egg. But either way, Africans know how to wait patiently. I'm not saying people don't grumble. But somehow, life goes on, even when October's salary isn't paid until January, when the traffic police cause an hour's delay in a long journey, when the electrician who says he's "coming right now" doesn't actually show up for three days... I see it all around me: people who know a thing or two about waiting.

David and I are waiting for something, too. David has a hugely important interview on Thursday, 4 December, at roughly 08:00 GMT+1 (02:00 Eastern U.S.) in Lagos, and I find myself waiting. I get worried about absolutely everything (I get it from my mom), but this will cause me to lose sleep. As I type, David is on a night bus to Lagos, which in itself makes me cringe. Night buses are notoriously unsafe, between armed robbery on the road and traffic accidents. But I trust he'll arrive safely. In the meantime, I'm waiting for a text message to say he's safely at Point A along the journey. And then tomorrow I have to wait here while he waits there, just sitting and waiting. Thursday morning will be the worst, waiting for his message about how the interview went.

I hate waiting.

No longer a refugee

2008-11-30T01:07:00.001-08:00

We came home yesterday afternoon, before the 18:00 curfew. It felt wonderful to be in my own home again, with David. I'd never really entertained the thought that I might not be back, but it still was comforting to see my familiar things--even the crumbling walls and burnt out kitchen light.

Yesterday was a long day. In the morning, the gunfire started again at 06:20, just after the curfew lifted. It went on for several hours on the other side of town. We heard nasty rumours about the way Christians were reacting to the previous day and ill-treating Muslims. I don't know how much is true, but I suspect a great deal of it is, and that saddens me more than anything else about this whole ordeal. Somebody mentioned the possibility of a 24-hour curfew, so we thought we'd likely be staying quite a bit longer.

By noon, the gunfire had almost stopped altogether, and a group of men from our compound returned to their homes to gather some more food and assess the situation. When they returned and reported to Dad--who had stayed at the other compound, watching Timothy while he slept--Dad decided it would be all right for us to return home. The other families stayed in town, but we packed up our belongings, listened politely to admonitions to stay, and left around 17:15. On the way home, we passed by two destroyed motorcycles, and when we saw the place where we'd seen flames on Friday, Dad told us that it was a mosque, not a shop. I couldn't help but cringe. There were several armoured vehicles near the hospital compound, and lots of soldiers and police.

We surprised David, who was visibly glad to see us. Mom and I made pizza for dinner--our usual Friday night fare, since we'd missed it on Friday--and watched a Star Trek Voyager episode. David told me later that he'd been upset when he'd found out we had just up and left on Friday. Mom had told me not to bother calling David at work because the man calling the shots was working with David at the hospital, so David would be appraised of the situation. Well, he hadn't been, and he hadn't gotten my texts until awhile later, after we'd left, since he'd been in surgery when we left the compound. In retrospect, I should have talked to him personally, made sure he knew what was going on. If there ever is a next time, we'll get a chance to discuss it, and maybe I won't have to leave without my husband.

This morning has been relatively quiet, with only a few sporadic gunshots. Even most of the churches--probably empty--are quiet, which is extremely rare for a Sunday morning. Usually they'd be blasting their worship music and preaching for the whole neighbourhood to hear. But not this morning. Perhaps this morning we can take a sobering few moments to mourn the dead and seek God's forgiveness.

A day to remember

2008-11-28T12:22:00.001-08:00

I fled my house today.

David woke me up at about 06:45 to tell me he thought there was trouble. I'd heard the sirens in my sleep and realised with a start that I also heard gunshots. And the sirens were going on and on--one after another. There were local elections here yesterday, and the governor had deployed troops to keep the peace. But that was yesterday. For all we knew, the troops had gone back to the barracks to catch some sleep after an uneventful day.

We didn't say much to each other, as David headed off to the hospital and told me that there was no way I was going to work today. There was smoke rising from several different points in nearby neighbourhoods, and the gunshots kept coming.

At about 08:15, I went over to my parents' house, thinking maybe I could do work there. None of us were going to leave the compound, but I figured I could still work. Then we heard that school was canceled at Hillcrest, that there were roadblocks, and that travel was restricted.

My parents' driver/gardener came around 08:45, and we reproached him for trekking all the way to our house. He told us of youths on the streets, of burning tires, of soldiers, of people out with knives and big sticks. We sent him back home as long as he thought he could make it back to his children all right.

Dad kept on the radio with the other compound missionaries and others in different compounds around town. We kept hearing gunshots, but they seemed to get fewer and farther between. The shouts we'd heard earlier seemed to have dissipated somewhat. But smoke still rose from several parts of town. David came to Mom and Dad's house around 10:15 wanting breakfast. I made him an omelette sandwich, and he left immediately after finishing. He seemed perfectly calm.

At some point, one of the missionaries on our compound decided that we'd better evacuate. We hurriedly packed "flee bags" and loaded the car. Dad didn't seem too worried, but we were obeying orders nonetheless. After about a half hour, all the missionaries had gathered by the back gate to the hospital--which is normally kept shut religiously--and caravanned to another mission compound farther from the trouble. We passed several road blocks, lots of marooned vehicles along the shoulder, and one or two shops in flames along the roadside. There was only one other car we saw on the 10-minute drive to the other compound.

We'd had to leave David behind, doing surgery in the hospital. My heart almost broke.

Once we arrived, around 12:10, the men got together to discuss our next steps, while we women gathered in a missionary's home for cold water and snacks. Each lady told about her own experience of the morning, and we prayed. My neigbour Stacey prayed for David.

It was a restless afternoon. We got all sorted out into people's homes, and I put Timothy down for a nap and read my mystery book. But Dad was in meetings, and we didn't know what would happen. Eventually, it was decided that we'd spend the night here. Later this afternoon, the radio announced a 6pm to 6am curfew.

At 18:00, we all gathered in a backyard gazebo--with the kids in chairs around a bonfire--and had a potluck supper. It was a cheery affair, and Timothy enjoyed himself thoroughly--eating gravel, banging a casserole dish lid, touching baby Hayden's soft blond hair, and generally making his presence known. I missed David.

So tonight we're in someone else's house. Thankfully, they were out of town, so we don't have to be awkward by crowding in with them. They were told not to return home today as they'd planned, so we have the house to ourselves. Timothy had a nice bath, and then he took 40 minutes to go to sleep. *sigh* It's been a long day. I miss my husband.

But we are thankful for safety for all of us, even for left-behind David. God has been good to us. And so we pray for peace today in our town, which is--after all--the home of peace and tourism.

Urgent

2008-11-27T22:30:00.001-08:00

There is trouble this morning. Please pray.

Thanksgiving in Nigeria

2008-11-27T12:12:00.001-08:00

05:22 - I groggily open my eyes to realise Timothy is fussing. I get him out of his Pack 'n Play and bring him into bed, where I nurse him, and he goes back to sleep. (The advantage of these really early mornings is that he goes back to sleep and sometimes sleeps past 08:00.)

06:50 - David shakes me awake. "I'm eating breakfast. Do you want me to make you some tea?" (Tea = hot Milo.) I debate: Either I sleep with Timothy and feel more rested, or I have breakfast with David, which happens even more seldom. I get up.

07:28 - David leaves for ward rounds. I light a scented candle our friend Laura gave us as a wedding present two years ago. Lime cilantro...what a strange but delightful combination!

07:48 - Timothy wakes up. I get him out of bed. He runs around with two small Vaseline jars and my glasses case while I get dressed. I get to wear jeans today - very exciting!

08:03 - I put on a CD collection of Contemporary Christian Music. Timothy starts to dance.

08:16 - I sit down with Timothy to give him a pumpkin muffin and apple juice for breakfast. (I remember the days when you couldn't get apple juice, and that was all I ever ordered on the flights to the States!) Of course, he makes a royal mess. Note to self: When looking for an apartment, if you have a choice, get one with no carpeting in the dining room.

08:35 - Finished breakfast! Timothy takes the washcloth I used to wipe him off and wipes the floor, his toys, his mouth, a remote control...

08:41 - I sit down with Murder Must Advertise, and Timothy climbs all over me. He's whiny and keeps squirming. I wish his cold would go away once and for all.

09:48 - David returns from ward rounds finally. We chat, and he sits down at the computer to browse the news and find friends on Facebook, which he's just joined. Timothy breaks another key (Ctl) on the keyboard. (He already broke the Alt key earlier this week, just tore it right off.)

10:55 - David goes back to the hospital for a surgical procedure. (He's on call today.) Timothy climbs into the footlocker where I keep his too-big clothes, and he plays, throwing the clothes around. I go back to my book.

11:14 - Timothy and I have a snack of canned hot dogs. I have salt craving a lot these days, not sure why. Timothy loves hot dogs! Someday he'll taste real ones, not tinned ones.

11:57 - It's warm, so I take off Timothy's trousers and let him run around in his Busy Bugs T-shirt. We start over to Mom and Dad's for lunch. Mom's made tuna pasta salad, one of my favourites. Yum! Timothy won't eat it but instead eats a huge helping of yogurt with strawberry jam.

13:20 - Timothy and I get ready to head home and start cooking. I put on his shoes and shorts just as David returns from the hospital. We watch him eat lunch. Now Timothy eats the pasta salad! I tell David he should feed Timothy more often.

13:45 - All three of us return home. Timothy will go down for a nap if I'm lucky, and I can start cooking for the potluck tonight. I said I'd bring Thanksgiving Corn Pudding... But the Internet isn't connecting, which means I can't access my recipe. Aargh! Furthermore, Timothy is refusing to sleep.

14:05 - I sit on the porch to see if I can get a wireless signal. It works - yay!! Timothy walks around the porch carrying our blue mop (as opposed to the red and brown ones). There's also a handy-dandy child's handle on our front screen door, so he loves to open the door and let it bang shut. I copy the recipe into a Word file, save it, and Timothy and I go back inside.

14:20 - I lie down on the living room floor to encourage Timothy to nap. After seven minutes, he's fast asleep between two throw pillows, the empty DVD case he was playing with by his side.

15:34 - I finish putting together my corn pudding and hand it off to Mom to bake in her already-hot oven. (Why waste gas?) She had to come over to bring me four eggs for the recipe, and Timothy is still asleep, so I couldn't go over there. The recipe calls for milk, so I had to open a new bag of Dano milk powder for the occasion. (We can't get fresh milk.) While Mom bakes the pudding, I'll cook the glaze...and hope Timothy keeps sleeping!

15:55 - The glaze is finished and ready to go on the pudding whenever it's baked--and after Timothy wakes up. I suppose there's no rush. Silly me: I used a liquid measuring cup to measure out my 1/2 cup of butter, but I used boiled drinking water, which of course got all mucked up with buttery grease. Next time--when I know it's going to boil--I'll have to remember to use tap water from our buckets. Timothy is still asleep!

16:07 - David comes home and sits down to eat two tangerines and an orange. Timothy is still asleep. I gather items into his diaper bag, unhook his sassy seat from the table, and wait for Timothy to wake up so we can go to Grandma's house and put the glaze on the corn pudding before we leave for the potluck.

16:26 - I wake Timothy up by putting on a Kids' Praise tape. David and I carry all our stuff over to Mom and Dad's house, where I put the glaze on the corn and help load the car. David takes Timothy down to the hospital.

16:51 - We leave Mom and Dad's house and pick up David and Timothy at the hospital gate. (Daddy almost forgets to stop for them!) We enjoy a yummy potluck supper of the usual Nigeria-Thanksgiving fare, including roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, corn, salad, deviled eggs, rolls, and lots of fruit. (No turkey, maybe some cranberry sauce, but it's the canned kind and very expensive, no Martinelli's...) Timothy especially likes the crescent rolls and mashed potatoes. I share my lemon meringue pie with Timothy but not my apple tart.

18:45 - or thereabouts, Timothy is finally let down from his sassy seat outside in the yard. He follows around some of the friendly neighbour dogs, wanders around the outside of the house, and knocks over a tiki torch. Heather screams as the torch falls to the ground near her table and sets the dry grass ablaze. It's a tiny fire, and someone tells one of the boys to put it out by stepping on it. The boy does, and the fire goes out, but all of us are rattled. Fortunately, most people didn't notice. Timothy goes back into his sassy seat for the rest of the evening.

18:56 - Randy begins our worship time with prayer. Then Meredith leads us in some praise choruses, and Timothy tries to sing along, even though he's got a pacifier in his mouth. Mark gives a devotional and Meredith plays a few more songs. By this time, Timothy won't sit still in the sassy seat anymore but wants OUT. I let him down and follow him around while Peter gives a closing prayer. We pack up, after a little trouble finding our [clean] dishes.

19:41 - We get back to Mom and Dad's, and David and I take Timothy home. My little boy is tired and goes to sleep as soon as I feed him and put him in his Pack 'n Play.

20:11 - David follows suit, leaving me at the computer to upload photos and finish my blog posting. It's been a long day, and there's work tomorrow. Plus David is on call, so he needs to sleep while he can. I'll follow soon! But the Internet isn't connecting, so this will have to be posted at a later time.

We thank God for all of His blessings to us in our lives!!

Nighttime surprise

2008-11-19T23:03:00.001-08:00

I woke up in the night and turned over to get more comfortable. Then I sat up in bed and poked David.

"David, what's that on my pillow?"

He turned over, glanced at my pillow, and said, "It's nothing. Turn on the light."

I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp while David leaned forward for a closer look. "It's not a fuzzy caterpillar?" I asked him.

"It is," he said, grabbing the pillow and heading outside.

I had trouble sleeping the rest of the night, worried about fuzzy caterpillars crawling on me. Every time I woke up, I'd check my pillow for another intruder. But we were safe the rest of the night. I just felt so violated by a crawly critter in my bed!

For those of you unfamiliar with fuzzy caterpillars, they are 1 to 2 inches long and look, well, fuzzy. Their "fur" sticks out and makes them look nice and soft, but if you touch it, you get a terribly itchy rash. I've never actually been unfortunate enough to experience it myself--at least, not that I know of--but we steered clear of them climbing trees as kids. Yuck.

This morning I wanted to get some pictures, and I found THREE (count 'em) in the doorway between our kitchen and dining room. I took photos of two more outside on the steps. Someone rescue me!! I'm not safe anymo re!

This fuzzy is on the wall of our porch.

This one's actually on our front steps.

Nightnoises

2008-11-19T11:43:00.001-08:00

I was coming home tonight from my parents' house, through a neighbour's yard, when I saw this picture:

I was trying to keep from tripping in the dark, so I wasn't really paying much attention. I saw this white thing to the right of the gate and thought it was just a bundle of cloth or a bag of grain or something someone had left on top of the fence.

I did a double-take when it clucked at me! I rushed home to get my camera and snap the shot. Here's a closer shot of my night-time friend:

Who ever said chickens can't fly? Lots of fun!

On another note entirely, David and I celebrated our second anniversary yesterday! We went out to eat while Mom and Dad watched Timothy, and we were back in plenty of time to put Timothy to bed and play Cities and Knights of Catan with my dad. And whaddya know--I won! I hardly ever win! It was a good day, and much less stressful than two years ago. :)

There and back again

2008-11-15T03:29:00.001-08:00

We survived the trip to Lagos! And actually, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, or as I'd envisioned. We're so thankful for a safe trip and a relatively good time there!

The only trouble blogging-wise is that most of the time, I was so engrossed in keeping Timothy happy that I wasn't being as observant as I otherwise would have been. (This is one of the downsides of traveling without your spouse!) So I don't have any interesting anecdotes or observations! What a bummer!

The flight down was as pleasant as any flight I'd been on in the U.S. (and more so than some). But I had a head cold to begin with, and during the descent into Lagos, I had a serious sinus headache (like someone showing shards of broken glass into my forehead) and an earache. And poor Timothy was screaming non-stop until we landed (when he promptly fell asleep). But aside from that, we were fine.

David and our friend Nanfa met me at the airport, and it wasn't quite as hot as I'd expected. (Don't get me wrong: it was very warm and humid--uncomfortable but not oppressive.) I couldn't hear anything out of my right ear for another four hours, but oh well! Luckily, Nanfa's car had air conditioning, and I mean luckily because we had to drive about 2-1/2 hours to get to his place. It's all within Lagos, mind you. But Lagos is a BIG city, and the traffic is atrocious.

It turned out that Nanfa lives in a beautiful, luxurious, wealthy neighbourhood called Victoria Garden City. His own place is one bedroom and bathroom in a little cottage behind one of the main houses in this community, but he had air conditioning and running water, so I told him honestly that the accommodation was better than most places I'd stayed in Nigeria! Nanfa himself vacated to a friend's place, leaving David and me to the single little room (maybe 10'x8'). We slept on sleeping bags on the floor, since Nanfa doesn't own a bed (which is actually pretty common here) and felt like king and queen!! Nanfa took us to a nice chicken place for dinner, and we all enjoyed our meal. Timothy even got a balloon to play with while we ate.

On Thursday, while Nanfa was at work, David and I ventured out to a specific clinic to run one of our errands. Nanfa had suggested we take a taxi, but we knew it would cost 10 times the price of taking a bus, and I said it would be exciting to take the bus. Now, you must understand that "bus" does not mean one of those big transit buses they use in big cities like London and Chicago. It means a run-down van--mostly VW vans in Lagos, for some reason--squeezing four people onto each bench seat. I'd never been in one of these with Timothy before because I generally insist on his being in his carseat. But of course, I hadn't brought his carseat to Lagos, so we took the bus. And it was fine! The wind felt good. It was cloudy. David and I enjoyed trying to understand what the caller was saying as we drove by people standing on the side of the road waiting. (Buses here have callers that shout out the bus's destination so people standing on the roadside can opt in or out.) It was fun listening to the pidgin around us, and I realised I was picking up more than I would have if it were Hausa, but I still had to struggle to understand a lot.

We had a nice--and very expensive!--lunch of Nigerian cuisine next-door to the clinic, and we relaxed there for awhile. Their eating area is upstairs in a covered balcony, so the airflow was perfect. Then we went to the clinic, and while David did his thing, Timothy amused himself by climbing on the coffee tables, climbing up and down the three steps at reception, trying to get out the front door, grabbing and ripping the leaves of potted plants, pulling the window blinds, and attacking the water coole--thus getting us both soaked. I was exhausted just trying to keep him out of the next bit of trouble! After two hours, David was finished, Timothy had fallen asleep on my lap, and we decided to go back to Nanfa's by taxi. When we got back, Timothy slept for almost two hours, and then we visited the park in Nanfa's community. It's beautiful! There are lots of trees, a grassy area for football, a basketball court, a little playground, benches, and walking paths. We sat for awhile and let Timothy play in the dirt and leaves. (He hardly ever get sto play outside because we don't have a yard, and Grandma has plants in her yard that Timothy likes to shred.) Then we went for a walk a few times around the park and decided to go back to the chicken place for dinner.

We retired early Thursday night. For one thing, the heat and humidity had made us exhausted. For another thing, we were planning on getting up at 4am the next morning. It was a rough night. Both Timothy and I were sick. By 3:30 we were all awake and ready to get up. Nanfa picked us up at 5:20, and we loaded the car to run our last errand and head to the airport.

Even at 5:30 in the morning, the traffic was bad in some places on the road. Nanfa told us that many people have to leave before 5:00 to get to work on time, depending on where they live and where they work. (I heard once a story about a family that lived in Lagos. The daughter was about three years old. Her dad worked a busy job seven days a week, and he had to leave before 6 to get to work every morning. He never returned at night before 8 or 9. It was so bad that one day, he returned home mid-morning to retrieve something he'd forgotten for a big business meeting, and his daughter came running from the gate, telling her mom, "Mama, there's a strange man at the gate, and he wants to come in!" Now I believe this story!)

We ran our errand, which took about three hours, and then Nanfa came to get us and take us to a motor park where we could catch a taxi to the airport. We knew the flight to Jos would probably leave around noon, and we hoped to catch it so we wouldn't have to fly to Abuja and get a bus to Jos. We arrived at the airport on time, miraculously, and there we ran into my former employer Jonathan! He's a world traveler and knows the Lagos airport well, so he helped us get our tickets, check in, and find the waiting area. I was having conniptions because I was hot, damp, and tired; I had a cold and was sick; Timothy was screaming bloody murder because he was tired and I wouldn't let him play on the ground. (Hello! There were mobs of people going to and fro, like I was going to let him get swept away in the crowd?!) And David just disappeared for huge chunks of time, trying to get our flight sorted out. It was miserable. I hope I never have to go through it again. And then our flight was delayed two hours, so David and I took turns--grudgingly--in chasing after Timothy to keep him out of trouble. Oy!

We were extremely glad to get home, dropped off personally by Jonathan. I don't know what we would have done without him!

So all in all, our trip to Lagos was a success. We accomplished our main tasks, didn't lose too much sleep, enjoyed good accommodations and company, and didn't get lost, mugged, raped, murdered, molested, robbed, or even verbally abused! I'd say that's a success. :)

David will have to go back in a few weeks, hopefully only once, but I'm glad at least that Timothy and I can wait here at home. (The trip is very expensive!) So thanks for remembering us while we were gone!

Traveling

2008-11-12T00:00:00.001-08:00

The one thing I can say for sure about today's trip to Lagos is that it will be something to blog about!

The original plan included our going together on a bus to Lagos this past Sunday. However, David decided that we didn't all need to go that early, so he went on ahead by himself, leaving Timothy and me to fly down today. He's already taken care of one errand, and we'll go together to do Thursday and Friday's errands. I sure am glad that I'm going to be in Lagos with my husband instead of alone, or with a stranger! Even better, we have a good friend who works in Lagos and lives in Jos, so he's been taking care of David and will hopefully help us get around. Phew.

So I'll go out to the Jos airport around 10am. I've only been there twice--once in 1995, when Mom, Jonathan, and I flew in from Lagos; and once a year or two later when Laura and I went to meet Jessica, whose family was flying in from the U.S. via Lagos. I don't remember much about it, except that it's pretty darn small. I've been told I can show up a few hours early, buy a ticket there, and then just get on the plane whenever they say to do so. Works for me!

I hope that when I come back on Saturday, I'll be brimming with a wonderful tale of adventure in the big city! Wish us luck!

Not in a blogging mood

2008-11-06T08:21:00.001-08:00

I'd been meaning to wait until after Timothy's birthday and the U.S. elections to blog, but now that those events are past, I find myself sighing and dragging myself to the computer. I'm exhausted. I'm not sure why--maybe it's Timothy's rough night last night. Or maybe I'm just tired of looking at computer screens all day.

The older I get, the younger people seem to be when they die. Perhaps that's just stating the obvious, but it's hit me in the past week more than ever. In the eight years since I graduated from high school, four Nigeria missionary men have died of cancer--all family friends and fathers of my schoolmates. They've ranged in age from early forties to early sixties, but it's still somehow overwhelming to me. I wasn't close to any of them (at least, not recently), but I have happy memories about them all. And the saddest thing: two of them died just weeks before their children were married. Yikes. Talk about timing. It's a real reminder that we have absolutely no say in our coming and going.

I realise I haven't said very much in this post, and I'm sorry for that. But I've said my bit, and that's that.

Fear and trepidation

2008-11-02T12:37:00.001-08:00

For the past four months, at least, there has been a huge elephant residing in our living room. It eats a lot. It costs a lot. It causes a great deal of worry and discomfort. But oops! We're not supposed to talk about it!

So I can't tell you why I'm probably making a pilgrimage to Lagos in the next two or three weeks. I can only tell you that I have hardly ever been more apprehensive about anything in my life. And that's saying a lot because I'm an obsessive-compulsive worrier. I could win prizes for the amount of worrying I've done in my quarter+ of a century.

I remember seeing a photo once, taken in the Atlanta airport, of a sign that proclaimed the Lagos international airport as unsafe for the wary American traveler. Fortunately, we're not going to the airport at all. On the contrary, we get to brave the big city itself.

To be honest, I know very little about Lagos, and I've blissfully enjoyed that ignorance. I realise that there are many Nigerians--resident in Lagos, of course--who would say you haven't been to Nigeria until you've been to Lagos. Well, my passport says otherwise, with stamps proclaiming my exits from and entrances into the Federal Republic. I've only been to Lagos once--13 years ago--and then it was just an overnight with my mom and brother. (The reason my dad was not with us is a story in itself, but I'll save that for another day.) We stayed in the Baptist Guest House between our flight from L.A. and our flight to Jos the next day. And it was pretty miserable.

This time we're going for a week. And we're going by bus. (David made this bus trip in May for his exams, and the 12-hour trip took 24 hours because of a huge church revival blocking the only road between Ibadan and Lagos--a one-hour drive in normal traffic.)

You could say I'm apprehensive. In fact, I think I said that myself. But really, that's an understatement; to acknowledge my true feelings would be to admit defeat. Lagos is big. It's crowded. To get where we're going by 7am, we'll leave our hotel by 4am. There's crime. There's noise. The weather is wretched. It's just not my ideal place to spend a week. But hey, this is important enough for me to make the trip regardless of the city's ill repute.

And it will take me a full week to get emotionally prepared for the ordeal! ;) So help me, I'll make it a trip worth telling about!

Through the eye of a needle

2008-10-19T07:38:00.005-07:00

It felt like we were trying to pass through the eye of a needle this morning as we drove to church. For the past two days, there has been some sort of religious meeting at the next-door polo field, blaring words that are unintelligible to monolingual ol' me. It went on all last night, too. I know because Timothy woke up screaming and wouldn't go back to sleep, so I was up at 2am, and the loudspeakers were still on full blast.

We left for church at 9:40, which would normally have gotten us to Hillcrest five minutes before the service started, with plenty of time to take Timothy to the nursery and sit down in the chapel. But by 9:55, we were still stuck in traffic around the roundabout by the polo field. Only once before have I seen such a to-do there. Nine years ago, on a religious holiday, my friend John mis-stepped into a 10' hole, breaking his arm and a rib, plus banging up his face pretty badly. On that day, it took us an hour to get from Hillcrest to Evangel Hospital--a distance of about 3 miles. That's the only time I'd ever seen it like it was this morning.

Vendors, hawking cloth, food, shoes, clothing items, etc. More motorcycles than I've ever seen in one place, and that says a lot. Vans full of men and women all trussed up in their best. People in brown uniforms and green berets directing traffic. Thousands of people on foot thronging the street. Noise everywhere: loudspeakers in cars reciting passages, people yelling, the loudspeakres from the polo grounds, policemen directing cars, horns blaring. David saw vans from at least three states, and I saw ones from another three. There were buses, lorries, vans, trucks, cars, taxis, motorcycles, and pedestrians--all congregating at the polo field. Cars were double-parked all along the main road and in the roundabout, barely giving room for moving cars to pass single-file. The van we were in was hit once by a motorcycle and then rear-ended by the car behind us. But we just kept going, inch by inch, until we were finally through the congestion. We arrived at the chapel only ten minutes late, which is actually quite amazing. I was glad, at least, that we were in time to hear the sermon by a special guest preacher (the man who officiated at David's and my wedding, in fact).

Needless to say, we took a different route home.

Going postal

2008-10-19T07:30:00.001-07:00

I was so delighted on Friday when David walked into the house carrying a Priority Mail flat-rate box. Wow! We actually got a package: Cheerios and a cross-stitched bib for Timothy. It was so exciting! So thanks for that!! I know I must have sounded pretty pathetic in my posts asking for packages. *insert sheepish grin here* But it's always nice to feel loved. Admit it: You love getting packages, too!

Ode to my right foot

2008-10-16T13:31:00.001-07:00

Earlier this year, I had a foot injury, and upon relating the story to someone, I suddenly realised that my right foot has quite a history of injury. So I decided to one day write a post about it. If this seems at all silly to you, I heartily agree. But perhaps you'll understand once you hear my tale.

I have never broken a bone in my life--at least that I can prove. The two times I've had X-rays of my right foot, there were no fractures. It's the times I haven't had X-rays that I suspect my foot was actually broken. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We lived at Fay Avenue when was in second and third grade, and we had a chair that my brother had salvaged from a dumpster behind our student housing complex at UCLA. (Yes, even then, my family were dumpster divers!) This blue chair was a swiveler, and I used to love to sit in it and...well...swivel. One day, alas! My right foot got stuck under the chair while someone else was in the chair (swiveling), and my foot got injured. It was just a flesh wound, but I can still point out the ibuprofen-sized circular scar on the top of the foot. Battle scars. And so it began.

I've always detested athletics, so I didn't have any injuries during my school days. Okay, I did have a possible stress fracture in my big toe once, but that hardly counts. No, my next injury came at the beginning of my sophomore year of college. And I can feel the excruciating pain even thinking about it. We'd been allowed to store two 70-lb boxes in the college storage facilities during that summer, and I had to move my two boxes from my freshman dorm to my sophomore dorm. It was a fair walk, but my friends and I managed, with my two boxes loaded onto a dolly. My new dorm, however, had no ramp access up the front steps and no elevator, so we stopped outside the building to contemplate the dilemma. As one of my dear friends let go of the dolly handle to stand it upright, the cart rolled on top of my right foot. I was in immediate agony. Not only did the goose-egg on the top of my foot swell up until it was literally the size of a chicken egg, but I had to ask my friend to go in my stead on a downtown-Chicago excursion with a group of freshmen that evening. After icing my foot for awhile and getting crutches from the health centre, I followed another friend to her cousin's apartment several blocks away to have dinner there. We walked, I hobbling on my crutches. I decided then that I would rather walk in anguish than use crutches for several weeks. So even though the health centre had encouraged me to go into a hospital for X-rays, I ignored them. (And Heather's cousin was sweet and gave us a ride back to campus that evening.) Woe is me! I should have listened to the health centre. I just knew I'd be humiliated if I went in for X-rays, and they said, "Ha, it's barely hurt. You're such a baby." It was at least two months before I could wear closed shoes again--just in time for winter. But my foot was tender to the touch for over a year afterward.

My next incident was the day after I graduated from college. My dear sister had come to the dorm to help me collect my absurdly numerous belongings, and we'd decided to pick through the dumpster before the trash truck came. (Lucky for us, the person driving the trash truck that day was an MK friend of ours from Nigeria.) I'd just found a futon for my sister and thrown it down to her. I jumped down after it and landed on the curb edge, twisting my right ankle beneath me. Ugh. My sister helped me hobble back upstairs to my dorm room, where I sat on a chair and watched my roommate continue to pack feverishly. A friend of mine stopped by, and I discovered to my delight that he had basic emergency medicine training. Yay! He wrapped my foot in an ACE bandage, told me to take an anti-inflammatory of any sort, and half-carried me downstairs to my sister's van. What a guy! Later that day, my sister took me to urgent care, and the X-rays showed no broken bones. But they did charge me an arm and a leg for the time spent and an air-cast, and they rented me a pair of crutches. This time I really did use them. The trouble was that you're not allowed to drive if you have crutches in your car for your use. So I lay on my sister's couch for a week, reading books, watching movies, talking with her, and enjoying being pampered. I was crushed to miss the dancing at a folk dance/sing the week after graduation--the last big folk bash I attended. By the time my friend Amanda got married four weeks later, I could hobble around in my strappy white sandals. No one even knew about my ankle. But that was a bad idea. I wrenched it again during the wedding, and I was back to wearing the air-cast for another few weeks.

My next incident was almost two years later. I was helping people at my church in San Diego set up for a special Renaissance party when the boys carrying a table behind me dropped it. The table landed against the back of my right foot. Everyone immediately took care of me, but I was in a lot of pain, and I sat out for most of the party that night. My host family made an appointment for me to see their orthopedic surgeon, and she took X-rays, but proclaimed that she thought I had only torn my tendon. Only. That's all! So I was back in an air-cast and got to wear flip-flops to work for my last few weeks of employment before I left for Nigeria for two months. Oh, and I highly recommend not injuring your foot right before a long journey. It's just a bad idea.

Well, it was almost two years after that that I hurt my foot this spring. Oh, well, the first thing I did was mis-step off the stairs at church and sprain my right ankle--the day of my little brother's 9th birthday party. Poor Mom had to cope mostly by herself with six little boys all yelling and screaming about one thing or another. But that healed well, and then, when I was carrying something in my house in late March, I knocked over a chair onto my right foot. Now, I know that doesn't sound like it would do much damage, but it hurt like you wouldn't believe. I couldn't touch the top of my foot--not even to wash it--for over a week. Even when I got into bed at night, I couldn't bear to put the sheet over my foot. Again, I had to wear flip-flops for literally months. The first time I put on sneakers after that was the end of May--two months later--to see if I could wear them while we were traveling in the States. By then, the pain had reduced enough so that it just kind of throbbed instead of panging.

So there it is, the story of my right foot. It's been through a lot in its day. And I'm sure it won't end here. But maybe now the curse will lift, and I won't have any more nightmares of hobbling around on crutches.

Thus ends the ode to my right foot.

Passing the time

2008-10-05T15:14:00.003-07:00

I exercised tonight for the first time since I can't even remember when. Okay, sure, I get daily exercise hauling Timothy and his carseat around. And I take walks with David sometimes. But this was 100% intentional and entirely my own idea. This hardly ever happens!! I am awful at exercising. I come from a sedentary family, so I didn't grow up with sports at all. And I have so many excuses not to exercise--reasonable excuses, even--that I can almost always convince myself to pass.

But three things made me think of it tonight. One is that I actually like the size I'm at right now and would like to stay this way. Another is my friend Lisa's blog post about exercising. And the third is a conversation I had yesterday with my husband. (Note: David enjoys exercise, especially playing football, but he doesn't make me feel guilty for not exercising myself--at least, not usually.)

I'd been thinking about trying it tonight, once Timothy was in bed. But then he decided to be naughty and stay awake until 9:45. I was tired. I decided to go to bed instead. While I was sitting on my bed, brushing my teeth, I suddenly realised that a big fat honkin' mosquito was perched on my hand having a grand ol' time. Nope. Not bedtime yet. I got out one of our several cans of insecticide and doused my bedroom with it. I pulled the door shut to make sure all the mosquitos died, and I thought, Well, what the heck? Who needs sleep anyway? So I put on Rebecca St. James' God with the volume down low, did some stretches, and then just started doing whatever seemed to make sense. I'm no aerobics master, nor am I a dancer except in the privacy of my own home. But I moved my arms and legs, and now I am sore. To me, this signifies exercise! I just have to figure out a way to make myself do it regularly. Is anyone interested in an exercise accountability program?

And now my bedroom is clear of the insecticide smell, so I can go to bed! Bon nuit.

Storm of the season

2008-10-03T23:54:00.001-07:00

Something woke me up at about 3:15 Friday morning. I'd been dreaming of being somewhere with my family, and in my dream, my friend Adena had run through pouring rain because she wanted to show me a Sunday school lesson...

When I awoke, wind was gushing through the house. My first thought was to close the doors to the toilet room and shower room, since they creak like no man's business, and I was afraid the noise would wake Timothy. I jumped out of bed and wrestled the wind to shut both doors, to no avail. Neither one has a working door handle, so we usually just shut them by wedging them with towels. When the wind is blowing as hard as this was, though, there's nothing we can do to keep them closed. After stumbling several times over the empty bucket we use for flushing--and making a horrendous noise--I gave up and went back to bed. Nothing, I realised, was going to keep Timothy from waking up in this storm except the grace of God.

David woke as I got back into bed, and I told him I was too scared to go into the living room. The wind had picked up and if possible, was even stronger as time went on. And the rain had begun in full force. I knew I hadn't closed the louvered windows in our living room, and that the wind was blowing straight in--as usual--from the northeast. I dreaded what I might find.

But then the lightning started--mostly just the rumbly kind among the clouds rather than the sharp ground-to-cloud kind--and I knew I had to unplug the computer and anything else we valued. I groaned, flung back the covers, and ventured into the living room.

What a sight!

The wind was buffeting the curtains, and one rod had already fallen completely off its supports, leaving one of the supports dangling with perhaps half an inch of screw still in the wall. (Remember that our wall is extremely crumbly, so it's hard to make anything stay in it.) I hurried over to the outlet where our electronics are plugged into a voltage stabilizer and surge protector, and I reached out my hand. The coffee table blocking the electrical stuff from Timothy's play area was wet. I cringed, prayed I wouldn't get electrocuted, and yanked the surge protector plug from the voltage stabilizer. The cord was only slightly wet, and I hadn't been shocked. Phew.

My next task was shutting the living room windows. Some of them are really rusty and don't shut easily, so that was a huge task in itself. I finally got most of the louvers shut, breaking one pane and cutting my hand on another. By the time I'd finished closing all the panes, the carpet was thoroughly soaked near the windows. As I walked back to bed, I realised the carpet was wet in the whole room, and that meant everything else was wet--furniture, chairs, Timothy's leather shoes (oops!), toys, even a few of our books. Everything in the whole living room was likely to be wet.

I just couldn't take it. I refused to think about it and climbed back into my cozy bed to listen to the wind and pounding rain. The storm lasted for another three hours. Timothy woke up scared at 4:15, so I brought him into bed with us, and he went right back to sleep and slept the rest of the night.

When we got up in the morning, it was still overcast, and I assessed our living room. The carpet was drenched, The curtains--both hanging and fallen--were soaked. The curtain rod would go back up, but I'm guessing it won't last more than a day or two. The cover of the book that I'm reading was wet but not soaked through. Everything else was merely damp. So all in all, we didn't do too badly. But it was quite a storm--the strongest storm of the season!

Transparency

2008-09-30T13:28:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I think that I'm brutally honest in writing my posts, but maybe sometimes I need to step out just a bit more. I read a friend's blog recently that challenged me (indirectly) to occasionally be truly transparent in my blog. What she shared in her vulnerability so touched me that I felt I wanted to do something similar. Maybe there is someone--even one person would make this post worthwhile--out there who can identify with my struggles and feel encouraged that she is not alone.

*deep breath*

I'm mildly afraid of a lot of things that most people fear. You know what I mean: snakes, tight spaces, armed robbery, rape, an accident occurring to my baby, my husband's death, hitting a pedestrian while driving, that sort of thing. And I have some very strange fears, too, like the fear of my teeth falling out, losing my sight, never having running water again, being pulled underwater by a rip tide, telephones, athletic balls coming toward me, scorpions climbing into my bed. Yeah, okay, so I'm a little eccentric.

But my biggest fear of all is of being alone. Oddly enough, this manifests itself in sometimes polar ways. For instance, I was at a concert once at Wheaton--not in attendance but looking for someone--and had a panic attack...in the middle of the crowd. I was surrounded by people, lots and lots of people, and I didn't know any of them. I was there all by myself, a theoretically stable adult, and I panicked. My heart raced, I couldn't breathe, and I could feel my palms sweat while my throat went dry. On the other end of the spectrum, when I house-sit, I get anxious, especially after the first day or two. I turn on the TV and just leave it on so that I don't feel totally alone. I play music. I keep the lights on in several rooms. And--if possible--I sit down at the computer and chat with someone. I'm on edge the whole time.

Now that I'm married and have a baby, this fear is somewhat less than it used to be. But some nights, especially when David is on call, I climb into bed and wish that I could just cling to Timothy rather than have him sleep in his own bedroom. I crave something tangible to remind me that I'm not alone.

I'm no psychotherapist. I can't analyze this fear and explain its inception by relating it to a childhood trauma. I've been alone a lot in my life, so maybe this is just my reaction to it all. I have no idea. But the fact remains that I am terrified of being alone, and this permeates my entire being, especially my social life. I don't want to go to parties or large gatherings because I know I'm more likely than ever to feel alone, even though I'm surrounded by people. I avoid crowds. I use Timothy as a security blanket. Yes, my ten-month-old is one of my best companions. It's pathetic, perhaps, but it's reality. Crippling? Very possibly. I know I ought to remind myself that Jesus is my best friend and that I'm never ever alone, so I'm probably extremely unspiritual for being afraid, but there it is. Do with it what you will.

Saturday stroll

2008-09-27T09:38:00.001-07:00

Today is the beginning of a five-day weekend here, thanks to the end of Ramadan falling right before Nigerian Independence Day (October 1). David was on call last night, but today was our first day of schedule-free relaxation. Yay!

So I was thrilled when Timothy got up at about 6:45 and wouldn't go back to sleep. David was at the hospital doing rounds already, so there was hardly any point in not getting up with the son.

It was an uneventful day, as days go. Mom made tabbouleh for lunch, and I've finally acquired a taste for it. Delicious! Now I just have to encourage Timothy to enjoy it as much...

But when Timothy woke up from his all-too-short nap, I put him in the stroller, and the three of us Neges took a walk. It had just rained a little bit--enough to cool off the air but not so much that the road was extremely muddy. We often walk to the hospital and back--which is only a third of a mile or so--but today I suggested we walk to the nearby football stadium, which is probably 1-1/2 to 2 km with all the windy turns.

I'd never tried pushing the stroller on the street before. There aren't any sidewalks, and usually, it makes me nervous walking along the shoulder by myself. Walking with a stroller, as you can imagine, is worse, between heavy traffic, motorbikes not paying any attention to traffic courtesy (laws? what are those?), and huge potholes. But most of the way to the stadium is on back roads that are pretty quiet. So I figured it was worth a try.

And what a beautiful day for it! When David and I were engaged, we used to take that walk a lot after he finished work in the afternoons. It was this time of year, too. Here are some of our observations from today's walk:

The huge pothole in the main road that wasn't there a month ago. It's two or three feet in diameter and looks at least 9 inches deep!
A pile of sand on the shoulder at one of the narrowest parts of the main road, so pedestrian traffic is one-way single-file and only when the car-and-motorcycle traffic ebbs.
Jerry cans of kerosene sold along the shoulder.
At least five churches, including Seraphim and Cherubim (white garment), Seventh Day Adventist, Baptist, and something without a sign but definitely a church.
Santa Bakery. Seeing the sign and smelling the lovely aroma from within launched me on a long explanation of "Santa," which took me all the way from Catholic saints to American Christmas celebrations!
A large tractor with "Jones" written on it. David remarks on this every time because my aunt and uncle--some of his favourite people--are the Joneses.
A lame chicken hopping around on one foot.
David's friend Flora, a nurse in the hospital, lives near the stadium, so we dropped in to say hi. David saved me from decapitation when I failed to notice a clothesline strung across the yard. Husbands are definitely invaluable, especially for those of us who are visually impaired!
A police truck full of uniformed men.
Lots and lots of motorcycles.

That's all. Not too exciting, but it was pretty different from walks I've taken in the States. Actually, it reminded me of the two months I spent in Thailand seven years ago. But I can't think why...

Send me packages!!

2008-09-17T08:55:00.001-07:00

I'm only kidding! We're not desperate for anything, but some things are always nice to get: sauce mixes, pepperoni, candy, Crystal Light (or whatever is generic) drink mixes, crackers, Oreos, sugarless gum, Cheerios, cotton socks for David...haha.

Anyway, someone asked for our address, so I'm gonna make it all public for ya. Actually you can use one of two addresses for us:

ECWA Evangel Hospital

PMB 2238

Jos, Plateau State

Nigeria

ECWA/SIM

PMB 2009

Jos, Plateau State

Nigeria

Good luck, and happy hunting!!

The mail must go through

2008-09-17T05:33:00.002-07:00

I remember when we first moved here, people would try to send us package, and--more often than not--we didn't benefit too much from their generosity. Either the package would sit in the post office and get consumed by rats, or it wouldn't arrive in the first place. Very occasionally, we actually received a complete package...and proceeded to pay an arm and a leg in duty for our chocolate chips and cake mixes. Eventually, people just gave up, I think. I don't blame them at all, but it sure became depressing when our neighbours were pulling out Now & Laters and M&Ms, and we were stuck with the local Buttermints.

But things have changed--or so I hear. I just talked to a missionary friend here who says he and his wife have received 24 out of 25 packages mailed to them in the past 14 months. My first (silent) response was, "Holy cow! They've gotten 24 packages in just over a year?!?!" I admit I was pretty shocked. We've gotten exactly four packages in our almost-two years of marriage, and three of those came through SIM in Charlotte. (The fourth came DHL from a very special friend!)

So my next (spoken) response was, "Wow! That's amazing! You only lost one!"

And it made me realise that maybe things have changed for the better here, as far as mail goes. But since everyone has given up on mailing us care packages, we would never know! If it really is better, maybe it's time to make another attempt. But what shall I do? Email all my friends and family and say, "Hi! Please send us a care package!"??? Hardly. That just isn't done. So I'll have to be creative and manipulative--crafty. [insert Cruella DeVil laughter here]

Doctor Zhivago: Why I hated it

2008-09-13T01:55:00.001-07:00

Warning: This post includes spoilers!!

David and I watched Doctor Zhivago this week, and although he seemed to find it a decent film, I was disgusted.

Let me first mention its good points, as I see them:

+ Great music. I've never heard much balalaika before, and it's quite pretty.

+ Wonderful cinematography. It's not quite like Seven Years in Tibet or The Return of the King, but it's pretty good for its era.

+ Historical background. Now, I'm no historian, and I know very little about the Bolshevik Revolution, so I'm not saying this movie is accurate. But I'm saying the story is well-situated in a historical setting that gives you a good impression of what life may have been like for a wealthy family during the revolution.

+ Good acting. I will admit that the actors and actresses were quite good: realistic, dramatic, emotional, etc.

So actually, on the whole, aside from the plot, the movie was pretty good.

BUT how can you say, "aside from the plot"? In my opinion, the plot is the most important part of the movie. If the plot stinks, the movie stinks. And I was disgusted by the plot. Not only is it extremely depressing--which I suppose makes sense for the time period in which it's set--but it also romanticizes sexual immorality.

What do I mean?

Okay, let's look at Tonya. She's wealthy, gorgeous, a faithful wife, and gives sacrificially to make her husband comfortable and happy. When the war comes, she sells her things to buy meat for his first meal home. She burns precious fuel to keep him warm because she's too selfless to tell him there's not enough fuel to keep the fire going while he's at work. She doesn't complain about losing her house, her things, her lifestyle, her social connections. Even if she isn't happy, she puts on a happy face for her husband. She breaks her back making him a home in a tiny cottage, and she slaves over a garden for their food. She is doting--the ideal wife.

And what does Zhivago do? Runs off to his lady-friend Lara in the next town. His wife is putting in 200% of her time and energy to make him happy, and he makes regular trips to the nearby town to sleep with another woman.

Yeah, makes perfect sense to me.

And then when Tonya and her father and the children get shipped off to Paris while he's effectively a prisoner of war, does he go after them when he's recovered and free? He never even mentions the possibility. Lara says, "He'll never leave Russia." Hello?! Why not?? Instead of trying to find his family, he just shrugs and moves in permanently with the blond chick, Lara. And does the movie seem to point out this isn't really a good idea? No, it glamorizes it. Great.

But does Lara even stay with Zhivago? No, she has to run for her life with her daughter--and unborn child, who's Zhivago's--off to the Far East. But is she with her husband? No, she's running away--albeit reluctantly--with Kamarov, the man with whom she had a secret love affair while she was engaged to someone else!! Yeah, okay. Right.

So we never find out what happens to Zhivago's family. He never sees them again, presumably never hears from them again. I guess they're not important. Lara we see once again, but Zhivago never sees her again after she goes off with Kamarov--except right as Zhivago is dying of a heart attack. (But she doesn't see him, of course.) And then Lara goes off and disappears, presumably dies.

So this love-pentagon-disaster thing never gets resolved. Everyone just dies, and that's that. But Lara and Zhivago's daughter, whom Kamarov had "lost," is the one character with any hope. But what good is the story to her? To find out that the man she called father was not only not her father but also not even married to her mother, that her mother slept around, that her father slept around, etc? Was it a comfort to her to know that her father loved her mother, even though both were married to other people?

Good grief. Who would want to inherit such a family debacle? No wonder she didn't want to own up to being their daughter.

Well, enough ranting. You can watch it and judge for yourself. But I'm staying away from it, thanks. This movie doesn't top my "must-see-again" list.

Seeing Sara

2008-09-10T14:52:00.001-07:00

I first met Sara on my honeymoon. She was standing outside the hospital on the compound of which David and I were staying in a guest house. David had heard of her, and she told us she'd been at our wedding. Surprise! (You have to understand that here, everyone and his second-cousin's niece's best friend shows up at your wedding. Invitations are just a formality.) She told us that she was getting married in January to a Nigerian, and that she'd gone to our wedding to have some idea what it could be like.

Well, how was I to know then that our paths would continue to cross until we became friends?

Tonight I got to see Sara and her husband Sunny, who moved to Abuja in February. Considering Abuja is only 3-1/2 hours away, we sure haven't seen much of each other in the months since they moved. Both Sara and Sunny work for IHV and travel a lot. Plus we don't have a car so can't exactly pop down to the capital for a quick visit.

Anyway, we hadn't seen them since the day before we left for the States, May 31, and it was so absolutely wonderful to visit tonight! Since we'd last seen them, we'd been to the States, and so had Sara (alone, alas!), so there was a lot to talk about. Plus we're both working on immigration stuff at a similar pace, so we can talk about that together and vent our frustrations.

Oh, it was just such a good visit. I do so miss seeing friends, and this week for some reason I've really missed my sister especially. Sara isn't my sister, of course, but she's a friend, and it was just refreshing to share a few hours with her. Thank God for revitalization!!

Grand-mama visits

2008-09-07T12:57:00.001-07:00

David's mother visited yesterday. She's been in town for about 10 days, staying with David's sister Hannatu, and we'd gone to see her there the evening she arrived. But this was the first time she'd ever come to our house, and only the second time she'd seen Timothy (10 days ago being the first).

I'd been dreading it for over a month. I have nothing against David's mom--don't get me wrong. She seems like a really nice lady. But we don't have anything in common. She's a farmer, a villager who has had no formal education (not even primary school), and a widow. And the most notable thing we do not share is a common language. She speaks Tiv and a little bit of Hausa, and I speak English and a little bit of Hausa.

...Which wouldn't have been too bad if she'd come with Hannatu, or if David had been around the whole time. But he was on call yesterday, so he was at the hospital for at least half of the over four hours she was here. Oh my gosh. It was awful.

Okay, so it wasn't that bad when Timothy was awake and cheerful. He's really the main reason she came to visit us anyway. And with babies, you don't need to share a language. You can just play. So that was fine. Awkward, sure, but we survived.

David came home, and we had peanut-butter sandwiches for lunch. I'd thought of making something nicer, even rice, but David insisted that his mother needed to have peanut-butter and bread. I think he was trying to make me feel like I didn't need to go out of my way to impress her, but it only made me more uncomfortable, knowing I wasn't working hard to give her something special, or even something with which she was familiar.

After lunch, Timothy went down for his afternoon nap, and David was called back to the hospital. Great. So there I was, alone in the living room with David's mom. I had no idea what to do. (When I'd asked David as he was leaving what I was going to do, he'd said, "Nothing." Really helpful.) So what did I do? Played Spider Solitaire for 45 minutes until Timothy woke up.

I'm telling you: it was one of the worst afternoons of my life. And then in the evening, after she'd gone back to Hannatu's house, I got berated for not trying harder to get to know her. How am I supposed to get to know her? Sign language? Even sign language isn't universal!!

So the next time my mother-in-law comes to visit, and David finds out he's on call, I'm just not going to be home. Leave me out of it!!

Work begins

2008-09-07T08:17:00.001-07:00

So I started my new job on Wednesday! I don't have a desktop yet, but I'm so used to using a laptop that it doesn't really make a difference. They say I'll get a desktop week after next. Yay! Here's a photo of my office after I rearranged the furniture.

(Beforehand, the cords were really easy for Timothy to follow and chew. It's a nice little place, and I like it. In the lower right is Timothy's makeshift bed, made of a stack of four or five blankets overlaid with a soft blanket as a "sheet." Hey, don't knock it; it works! As you can see by the sleeping babe thereon:

I'm glad to be in this new work, and I'm eager to start getting things done!

The rains: what I won't miss

2008-08-26T08:58:00.001-07:00

I thought maybe if I made a list now of the things I don't like about the rainy season, then when the harmattan comes and I'm desolate, I can look back and think about these things and be thankful! So here is a list of the things I won't miss about the rainy season:

mud...enough said;
not being able to wear slippers (flip-flops) because they kick mud up the back of my legs;
carrying Timothy and the diaper bag and an umbrella;
Timothy's dropping his pacifier or Jack-the-dog in the mud;
flying termites;
not being able to hear the music playing above the drumbeat of driving rain on the roof;
mold...also enough said;
slipping on the moss on our front steps;
having to keep the living room windows shut most of the time so the rain doesn't blow in;
wearing three different sets of clothes in one day as the temperature changes;
smelling the fragrant chickens at Chickenville even more vividly after the rain;
unplugging the computer (to keep it safe from lightning strikes) and forgetting to plug it back in;
wet socks;
stink ants;
getting wet in unexpected storms;
leaky roofs (though, we thank God, not our own);
mildewed clothes when the dryer can't run because the power is out;
David's allergies;
mud...oh wait, did I mention that already? UGH.

Well, to be honest, the things I will miss hugely outweigh the things I won't. But life goes on, and at least now I'll have some things to be thankful for when dust covers every surface of the house and is in our hair and mouths and eyes and noses... *sigh*

A few answers

2008-08-24T13:16:00.001-07:00

Okay, lots of people have asked me what my new job actually is, so I guess I'd better sum up.

I'll be working at Hillcrest School, my alma mater, but I won't be teaching--which is actually a real blessing, since I've discovered that although teaching can be fun, I don't have the talent it takes!

My position is Recruitment and Development Director, which is a huge title but is much simpler than it sounds! I'll have three main tasks, as I understand it:

To recruit--teachers from outside Nigeria and students from inside (mostly, anyway);
To develop a network of financial support; and
To keep up with alumni and encourage good relations between the school and her graduates.

It sounds difficult but also exciting. I worked all my years at Wheaton College in the Development Office, so I'm hoping I picked up a few important lessons, whether or not I realise it now. The job is only part-time, and we're hoping it will work to have Timothy come with me, but everything is fluid right now, since this is a new position. There's a lot of room for error and growth. I'm sure I have a lot to learn!

Another new job

2008-08-20T07:19:00.001-07:00

Does it say something about my personality that the longest I've been in a job since graduating four years ago is 18 months?

Yep, I'm starting a new job next month. I'm both excited and anxious about it for lots of different reasons. It will be a welcome change of pace from writing, editing, and--above all--formatting Word and Publisher documents. (I didn't get a $100,000 education so I could create text boxes!) And it will definitely be stretching in some pretty important ways. But obviously that'll be hard, too. I'll have my very own office--for the first time ever. (I had a cubicle at my first job in Oak Brook, IL, but it's not the same.) And it's a brand-new job, so there'll be a lot of learning for both me and my supervisors. It's really a breath of fresh air. I know my work has really benefited Joint Project for Sunday School Materials, and I 100% agree with the work and its significance. But I'd fallen into a rut there that I don't think I could have gotten out of without quitting. And after coming back from the States, everything in my life has just seemed so colourless. Maybe this job will add a bit of spice and anticipation.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll write more about it once the work starts. It'll certainly be a new experience. So far I haven't found a nanny for Timothy, so I'll take him to the office with me and see how that goes. If I get desperate, Mom can watch him for small spells. I'm not worried.

Pray for me!!