The Lining Is Silver

Or the lining is golden.  Or orange.  Maybe it's pink.  In my personal experience, it depends on the sunset.  Or the sunrise.  One thing's for sure, the lining is almost always beautiful.

My plan for this update: culinary misadventures, God's goodness, some awkward encounters, and a request or two for prayer.  Those of you that want to bail now are hereby excused. (Except you, Mom.  You have to stay so I don't look like a loser.  It's your fault I'm writing anyway.)  Alright, hands and feet inside the vehicle?  Here we go...

Roasted garbanzo beans are a lie. I also might have made them incorrectly.  They did, however, start popping like popcorn in the oven without actually making anything fluffy and flavorful.  I ended up with chewy, kinda-sorta-salt-and-vinegar, traumatized chickpea pebbles, which I ate because waste is a sin.  Thankfully, I only made one serving, so they're gone now.  The remaining beans got falafel-ized in our new (to us) food processor!  Of course, I didn't have all the "real" ingredients to make falafel, so I made a recipe up that I fondly call Maybe Falafel.  It's going to go down as a secret family recipe, but I'll give you a hint, it let me use up some left over sweet potato.  I know my Jewish ancestors are rolling in their graves. (Is Dad crying over your shoulder, Mom?)  It tasted good, okay?  In recompense for my desecration of falafel, I also concocted a carrot-ginger hummus that totally redeems my aforementioned chickpea mistakes.

Apparently, God stretches us most when we are in His will.  We recently attended a regional conference, at which I was asked (read: told) to share my testimony.  One on one, I can share my testimony fairly coherently.  Throw me out in front of a bunch of missionaries who share God's word for a living and I'm about ready to have an anxiety attack.  I won't tell you my heart rate before I stood up, but it could have won the Kentucky Derby.  Despite my social anxiety and regrettable tears, I did share some of my journey with the group and no one fell asleep, so go team!

Coming back into the quiet village life, I've picked language study back up and Saturday hikes have resumed.  This Saturday, we accidentally tromped right through a neighboring village, only to realize we were going the wrong way, so we had to tromp right through again.  Ahh, have I mentioned social anxiety?  Thanks for growing me, God.  Thanks.

Now I come to the part where I don't want to share too much information, but I'm going to try to share what I can.  One of my little students has been having some health hiccups.  A couple visits to a lab and some discussions with the doctors let my host mom know that her little girl is going to keep "hiccuping" and there really isn't anything we can do except wait for her to grow out of it.  Of course, no parent or child wants to receive that news, so my prayer (and hopefully your prayer) is that the Lord would heal her.  If He won't heal, then that He would hold them closely through this trial.

TTFN

Ta-ta For Now!

Lunch Lady Land

Remember that time when I was like, "Sorry, food hijacked my life but it's all good now"?  Apparently that was a lie. There is something remarkably romantic about food.  Not a boy-meets-girl romance.  It is more of a quaint romance, the quiet kind that settles contentedly in one's soul.  To be honest, it is one of the purest joys any basic creature can experience.  The amazing part is that God allows mankind to take it one step further.  We have not only been given the ability to play with flavor and elements, but we also get to share it with each other.  In short, good food lays better foundations for great relationships than anything else.

Don't argue with the facts. Jesus himself ate with his disciples and demanded they continue that tradition until his return.  Nearly every budding relationship is nurtured with well-made food. (Coffee counts.) Babies bond with their primary food source for the majority of their early lives.  Good food isn't an accident and someone sharing that food with you isn't just nice.  It's everyday romance.  Deal with it.

All of that said, good food or bad, I hate seeing it go to waste.  Imagine a house where people compete to see who can eat the oldest left overs.  (Yes, that's you, Uncle David.) But in tribal Filipino culture, waste is even more offensive and they don't have refrigerators.  One social gathering will tell you all you need to know.  Personally, rice is the only permissible choice as far as food goes at these things, but take a glance at everyone else's plates.  They're happily tucking into fried pork blood and intestines with gusto.  Get the picture?

Daily life is organized around meal times...and coffee times...and the preparation of food for those times.  There is an ongoing assessment of The Fresh: What is going to spoil first, so it can be eaten first? Is anything too far gone to be eaten that is salvageable for baking or cooking? Can this be preserved by freezing?  Is anything showing signs of worms or rot?  The surprising part is that it's more of a game than a chore because all of the above questions have follow-up questions: Cookies or bread? Stir fry? Would these flavors pair well together? Could I try substituting this for that? What if we invented something savory with this, instead of the usual sweet?  The results of our labors are almost always good.  If they aren't, the process was still fun, a lesson was learned, and the desire to make it better is undeniable.

Around the food, life waltzes along.  Just yesterday a beautiful baby girl was born in the village. Two of the kids spent time expanding their portion of the garden this morning.  Adobo the pig has an umbilical hernia that might determine the length of her extended lifespan. All of these things happen slowly, then all at once. Through it all, we break out bread, give thanks, and bask in the romantic blessing of it all.