Water, Water Everywhere

There is a reason they call it rainy season instead of winter.  Winter implies a lovely blend of wintry weather.  Rainy season doesn't have variety. It's rain all day, every day. Cheers.

Despite the drumming rain and swelling river, life goes on.  We joke that we're starting a petting zoo at the house.  When I arrived in November, the only animal residing with us was Jojo the dog.  Since Christmas, we have acquired several additions. The first addition was technically a pair of lovebirds, Elvis and Mango.  Within a week of their arrival, however, they saw a chance to escape and took it.  The kids were sad and I was...not.  Next, Adobo the compost-eating pig arrived via helicopter with a second pair of lovebirds. These lovebirds have yet to receive official names, but I call them Hansel and Gretel, mostly because a witch locked their namesakes in a candy house to die. (Can you guess how I feel about keeping pet birds?) The most recent addition is a turtle.  He hasn't been christened yet, either, so I'm calling him Grindelwald.  My feelings on keeping a turtle are pretty similar to those on birds.  I'll add pictures by a separate post, sans birds.  The only thing more depressing than a caged bird is photographing a caged bird.

Personally, I have acquired acid reflux for the first time in my life.  It isn't a very pleasant life experience.  Any ideas on how many times the word sphincter is used to describe the symptoms? More than a few. And I still laugh every time I see it.  The hopeful cure for the malfunctioning sphincter?  No coffee, which is basically like saying no oxygen.  I'm not complaining, I just hope it actually works.

Missionally, the guys are translating the story of Joseph.  Eddie, one of the tribal language helpers, has been told up to Joseph's journey to Egypt.  At the end, he said, "What's next? It can't end there!" Pray for the preparation of his heart and the hearts of the village to hear the Good News!

In the words of Porky Pig, that's all folks! (For now, at least.)

Get the Hint

I know I can be a space cadet sometimes.  If my picture had to be placed by a single word in the dictionary, it would be next to "oblivious".  That's okay.  It just takes me a little longer to get the hint sometimes.

That is my preface.  Now, to the story.

When I moved to the Midwest, one of my friends gave me a canvas with a verse painted on it.  The canvas, I'm sorry to admit, sat in a box of yarn for a year until I moved again.  Once in the second apartment, the canvas managed to find itself hung above the kitchen sink, because there were two random nails protruding from the wall.  There it remained until I moved again.

Unfortunately, the third move left the canvas in yet another box in an attic. (Sorry, Nicole.)  But really, who brings a canvas across the Pacific when she's trying to fit her entire life into one bag? Call me a minimalist, but no one will be complaining when I bring  an extra duffel  of gifts home. 

So this Christmas, I opened my Christmas package from home and amongst the sprinkles and candy canes, was a brand spanking new canvas with a verse painted on it.  Any bets that it was the same verse? Of course it was.  I don't even think Mom knows I have a double of it in her attic.

So, after a few weeks of contemplation, I think I'm finally getting the hint.  The verse reads, "You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast because he trusts in You." (That's Isaiah 23:6, for anyone who was wondering.)  Maybe it's a coincidence, but I'm willing to bet if a verse follows you via canvas across the world, whether or not you leave it behind, you should probably meditate on that sucker. Like a lot.  So I am.

In other news, while I was writing this post, I was called outside to witness some coconut harvesting.  Naturally, I forgot to take pictures.  Suffice it to say, I drank fresh coconut water, ate the spongy seed pod from inside a browned coconut, and ate enough coconut meat for a small army.

Life is good.  A life of peace is fantastic.

Photo Update

(Front view of a tricycle)

(Goats tethered to a trash heap from the typhoon)

 (A random 3-wheel vehicle)

(Early morning view of an outdoor mall)

Farewell, Francois

Mom, you know how I don't really sleep much.  After I got over my jet lag and stopped falling asleep every time I sat down, I fell back into my four hour sleep-rut. I guess my sleep pattern doesn't really explain why, around midnight last night, I was standing in the bathroom, hyperventilating, with a shattered toothbrush holder in one hand.

Rewind a little bit.  My first week here, one of the older girls and I cleaned the schoolroom to prep it for the following week.  She warned me, "Last time we cleaned out these drawers, we found so many cockroaches.  We actually started naming them like hurricanes."  In that moment, I asked myself, "What do I think I'm doing here?" But we only found a handful, half of them already dead.  Agatha, Bernard, Candace, Deidre, and Emily.

Since then, other people have spotted one or two, but I've been blessed with limited exposure....which might have something to do with me begging God to keep them away from me.

Last night, however, I made the familiar moonlit journey down the hall to the bathroom.  Usually, I just do my thing in the dark, but I had forgotten to brush my teeth earlier so I flicked on a light.  Hand halfway to the faucet, I froze.  Almost the size of a thumb, resting on the sink, antennae twitching, sat Francois. 

To the best of my knowledge, I did not scream.  I did, however, thump him into pulp with my plastic toothbrush holder. One hit. Two.  Three.  I thwacked him with a speed uncannily reminiscent of you, Mom, with your wooden spoon on a deserving behind.  Francois was thrashed beyond an inch of his life.  In the deafening silence after my berserker reaction, I started hyperventilating, clutching the splintered remains of my unfortunate weapon.  It was at least five minutes before I could remove his corpse and anothe five before I convinced myself another roach wouldn't jump out at me if I turned the water on.  Eventually, though, I found my way back to my bed, teeth clean, heart at a somewhat normal rhythm.

RIP Francois the Cockroach.  I don't really condone mindless killing, but I'm more sorry about my toothbrush holder than one less cockroach to worry about.