When Words Fail Me

 

(The river isn't visible in this picture, but during the flood, this entire area was submerged)

 

(Some of the damaged corn.  The men are attempting to salvage some of their damaged crop, but others had more than half of their harvest totally washed away in the raging water)

 

(Small beauty in the aftermath. A reminder that everything will grow again)

(A tiny glimpse of how high the river water rose) 

Picture This

 

(Just something from our walk)

 

(The blondies everyone can tell are vegan)

 

(Adobo is growing up!)

Peaks and Valleys

We all experience peaks and valleys, right? I mean, I know we do, Mom, but other people must experience them at some point.  So that's how I go through life: peak after valley, valley after peak. Sometimes the cycle takes weeks or months or years.  Today carried all the wonders of both, like a smaller peak and plateau along a greater range of sister peaks.

There are underlying issues that I'll address in a little bit, but for now I want to focus on today.  We started with the peak.  Early morning prayer and yoga helped shake the z's from my eyes. Val and I took our Saturday walk, said hi to some neighbors, chatted nutritional balance, beautiful normal stuff on a bright, hot morning. After our walk, I scarfed down a delicious breakfast of sweet potato hash browns and sesame-ginger tofu. (Cut me some slack, it's delicious to me.) And then I rounded out my morning by experimenting with bean brownies.

Now, I wasn't sure about the brownies, so I brought some over to Val's to share.  We got talking about food, surprise-surprise, and I mentioned cardamom. It's the flavor of my childhood, the scent of Christmas and family reunions, my personal kryptonite.  It's something I haven't had at all during my stay here in Southeast Asia.  Needless to say, when Val pulled an untouched container of cardamom out of her cupboard, I was speechless. When she kept pouring it out into an empty spice jar until it was nearly full, I actually shed a tear. We're calling it a miracle because the original jar is STILL two-thirds of the way full. 

Somewhere in the afternoon, though, memory lane decided to take a severe nosedive into the "oh-shame-I-can't-believe-that's-my-actual-life-story" depths. Then the reviews came back about the brownies. Not good. Slowly but surely, the evening fell flat. Why?

Underlying issues, coming at you. They aren't even real issues.  Two months ago, I requested permission to return to the Philippines in 2018.  The idea was that I would go home in October, then return in January.  A reply came in yesterday with a "still not sure, but here are some things to do in the mean time," but now I'm not sure.  Would God have me return, or would He have me go somewhere else? What will the state of things be when I get home in October? What can I do now to prepare for the future?  And then, of course, I'm nothing if not a middle child.  It's in my nature to make everyone happy, but this future, no matter what it brings, will leave someone disappointed in me.  

Pray that I will get the emails sent that need to be sent.  Pray that I would leave the future in God's hands, where it belongs.  Pray that God would allow me to be confident in His will, whether or not everyone else is happy with it.

Twenty-Four Found Me

If you don't get the reference, you're not my mom.  If you are my mom and you still don't get it, we have a problem and I'm not as clever as I think I am.  The song that I'm talking about (yep, it's a song) fully embodies everything I'm feeling right now.  I was talking about it with Gracie the other day. One line in particular stood out to me: I want to see miracles, see the world change, wrestle the angel for more than a name. And it got me. Right here. 

I was going to summarize this most recent journey around the sun with a really introspective look at how God has grown and changed me, but you already know all that.  Then, I thought I would look ahead. Except God has a way of throwing my ideas out the window while He does His thing.  So today, I'm just going to share the past twenty-four hours.

A couple beautiful people messaged me at midnight, then another at 4 a.m. All of which I responded to with bleary eyes at 5.  

I drank coffee and (separately) apple cider vinegar water and put hemp powder in my oatmeal. It's protein. Not drugs.  Pinkie promise.  The girls and I went through the school day mostly hiccup free.

Our Até made biko for my birthday cake, which I feel was the proper way to celebrate a birthday in the Philippines.  Lunch was leftover lentil curry, because leftovers are my love language, okay? The rest of the afternoon was, dare I say it, uneventful.  There were no existential epiphanies or life changing experiences.

Today, I existed.

Today, that was enough because I know beyond the shadow of a doubt God has me exactly where He wants me.

Today, I purchased homeward bound airplane tickets.  

Tonight, I'm praying because it isn't enough to want miracles and change.  I want to be a part of them.

To infinity and beyond!

A Day Late and A Picture Short

 

(J's repaired bowl)

 

(Pretty sure this is called Biko in Tagalog.  No clue what they call it in the local language, but it's my favorite dessert by far.)

 

(Our daily helper and another lady making a new bread recipe together. Sorry for the poor lighting; I was trying to be artsy without being creepy.)

 

(Some pink foliage in the early morning sun. A few weeks old, but worth sharing.)

Air Dried

We ended last week with an art lesson on Maria Martinez.  For those of you who may not know about Maria, she was a Native American artist, best known for her coil pottery.  Naturally, the girls then tried to make their own clay bowls using coils of clay just like Maria.  We used air dry clay because, let's face it, it isn't like I have clay mixed with volcanic ash just hanging out in the school room.  All was we. 

My personal experience with air dry clay is...nonexistent. So what? I figured that I have plenty of experience with normal clay. Why should air dry be any different?  And it says air dry! So that means we should have it dried up in no time!

Wrong.

It could be that it took forever to dry because we live in a perpetually damp climate.  Or a three day drying period might be the norm.  Either way, the girls were chomping at the bit to finally get their bowls out today.  J's completely fell apart.  S's stayed together... mostly.  I reminded them how I told them to really press the coils together, or the bowls would fall apart.  Now, we're using paint to glue the pieces together.

At the end of this elongated project, I can't help but see the lesson in this for me as well.  God is depicted as a Potter in the Bible at least once.  As He twists the coils of my life together, how often have I said, "No, God, this way!" only to blink away tears of disappointment when everything I've built falls apart?  Then I watch in amazement as He chooses to pick up each piece, paint it up, and build something even more precious than I could imagine.

It's the start of a new week that could hold a host of new hiccups and bumps.  I'm grateful, at the very least, for this reminder of God's loving patience.

And don't worry. I'll post pictures of the bowls once they dry.

Did I Mention Callao Caves?

 

(This gentleman kindly ferried part of our group to a lovely spot along the river.)

 

(Yes, I did jump.  Thanks for asking!)

 

(Thanks for the breath of fresh air, God! I think we all needed it!)

 

(One last view)