6 months, but who’s counting?
20 Aug 2010 Leave a Comment
On August 18 we had been her 6 months. To the day.
Josiah is walking now, at least little stumbling steps that either fall into a piece of furniture, one of us, or a crawl. When we got here he couldn’t even roll over from his back to his front.
We’ve been here 6 months, and we’re feeling it.
I’m feeling it.
Excuse some of the following expressions of culture fatigue (skip them, if you wish).
I’m tired of being stared at while I eat. I’m tired of being stared at, period. Tonight we ate at a Chinese restaurant, which I think is the source of my current indigestion, and the waiters (always more than anyone needs) stared at me for quite a while, but finally it was just one who stared while we ate. It was a blessing to get away, though, and have dinner with my husband.
I had a moment this week where I actually said to Edwin, “I hate this language.” I didn’t mean it. But it needed to be said so that I could walk myself through my real emotions about studying this very difficult language called Tagalog. By having a little hissy fit about how none of the grammar seems to be consistent or how there seem to really only be 10 words that are flipped around in various ways and thrown up in the air to see what they’ll mean this time, or how tense is actually a loose term and if you don’t catch the one word that signifies the speaker is talking of a past event you may end up thinking they’re talking about right now…by having that little fit I was able to calm myself down (I really can be a good counselor): “Amy, you know you just need an attitude adjustment. Why are you studying the language? To get to the heart of the people. And you do care about the heart of the people, don’t you?” Yes. Done.
The other day, I was pouring some Honey Nut Cheerios for an afternoon snack. They had been stored on the top of our refrigerator. I was casually talking to Edwin, when out slithered a lizard, right along with my cereal. I simultaneously threw down the box and screamed that shrill scream that can only come with fear and/or surprise. The poor lizard scurried away under the refrigerator, and probably immediately died of a heart attack. I commenced to picking up the Cheerios, laughing that I had screamed about a lizard (I don’t mind them…just not in my cereal).
I’ve got to say this Mississippi girl loves air conditioning. I’ve been a bit consoled by having some Filipinos tell me we moved here during the hottest hot season they could remember, and we are currently enduring the hottest and driest rainy season, also. Ok. But please tell me there is some relief to this heat. I thank the Lord that we have air conditioning in our bedroom. Although electricity is quite expensive here (my theory is that someone is living quite comfortably on the backs of a whole lot of people who make hardly anything…this is the story of many things in this country), we are willing to cut corners on other things in order to have a cool room to sleep in. The day may come when we have no air conditioning at all, so we’re enjoying it now.
We’re headed out to visit with fellow World Team field members next week. They live on the island of Catanduanes, which is the most eastern island in the Philippines, and receives the most typhoons in the country. They’ve been working to reproduce house church plants, and they’re seeing success in the multiplication of Bible studies. We’re excited to learn from them, as well as see what God is doing in that part of the country. So far, our exposure to Filipino culture has been around the city. We’re likely in for some culture shock. We’re going to the boondocks, which is actually a term based on the Tagalog word for mountain: bundok. So, pupunta kami sa mga bundok sa biernes. There is air there, fresh air. And green, like, from TREES! We’re so excited.
I’m hoping I’ll be better by then. Yes, I’ve been sick, again. They aren’t kidding when they say the first year on the mission field you’re exposed to all kinds of new germs and illnesses. My body has been under almost constant attack since we got here. But Josiah stays relatively healthy, which I’m thankful for. Somehow, Edwin never seems to get sick. Praise God for that!
We’ve got a lot coming up in our lives. Edwin’s parents are visiting, followed by a visit by my parents. I can’t wait. In the meantime, Sydney Darling will be here as an intern with World Team. We’re so excited to see her! By then we’ll be in our 7th month. Always moving on…
pleased with himself
12 Aug 2010 Leave a Comment
A little while ago, Josiah was looking at a photo of himself. He stood there for the longest time, in a trance. Who is that charming little fellow? He was thoroughly pleased with himself, and looked back at me to show his pleasure. I love that little smile. And I love watching him play. I could do it all day and never get bored. Lately he’s found a lot of pleasure in putting things into other things, and taking them out again, narrating all the while, of course. His clothes drawers are a jumbled mess. I love that mess.
infant praise
11 Aug 2010 1 Comment
About a year and a half ago
I was at a missions conference,
worshiping God with Edwin and about a thousand college-aged young adults,
and a baby in my womb.
I remember being excited
that
his little ears were able to hear sound:
the sound of worship toward the One True God.
Tonight,
our little family gathered around a DVD of worship music,
and that little baby, at 11 months old,
threw up his hands (“Praise the Lord!”) with his daddy,
who was holding him,
and sang out in the sweetest language of all,
pure honest joy
the message of infant babble.
I could not be more blessed,
more content in the joy of motherhood,
my joy.
ibat-ibang bagay (different things)
03 Aug 2010 Leave a Comment
Josiah is down for a nap.
It is raining medium hard after a rainstorm of intense arrows of water, coming from all directions. I am glad I was inside during the attack.
I made some pasta sauce the other day that made me so happy I just wanted to keep eating and eating. Really, it was a recipe for pizza sauce (and it was great on that!), but it doubles well on penne, which I’ve discovered truly is my favorite pasta. I’m a texture eater, and the way penne has that crunch-but-not-a-crunch-because-it’s-pasta…I love it. Edwin recently announced to me that he hates rice. Not really, but he’s sick of it. I think this has added to his identity crisis…Who am I, really? he seems to be asking himself all the time, I mean, a Filipino who hates rice!? He is American, but has this Filipino culture inside him, which he was never formally taught and which has strange holds on him, and yet he views the culture in the Philippines as an outsider, as a foreigner. And so he is constantly going back and forth in his own self-discovery as an American Filipino, a foreigner in his parents’ homeland. So, we’ve been eating a lot of pasta lately, and have confessed our love for it to each other. I think we should go to Italy. (Ironically, the last few meals I’ve made have included rice.)
I’ve been reading Eat, Pray, Love. It’s a great read, but it makes me so sad. A great window into the new age spirituality that reigns in the hearts and minds of so many Westerners. They think that the answer to harmony in the world is to love and accept the teachings of all religions, not realizing that those religions are at philosophical and theological odds with each other. You can’t worship one God and all gods. You can’t choose your truth, saying that others have their own truth. Truth is truth, meaning it excludes that which is not included in itself. And for goodness sake, goodness doesn’t reside intrinsically in your heart, you are not God! I call this kind of thinking “Oprah spirituality.” It is misleading, and people are dying in it. Even more, it is based on works: how can I get to God? I’ll meditate…I’ll go deeper into myself. But deeper into ourselves is deeper into sin, even if it takes you to a place of emptiness. God the Father didn’t reveal himself to have us be self-focused spiritualists. He revealed himself to get us to look at him, and live lives for him and others.
But, the first part of the book, “Eat,” is truly entertaining. The author is in Rome, and I am taken back to that intoxicating city where I spent a glorious spring break as a senior in college. I was there on a study trip, but my experiences there are in my memory as if I was experiencing it in a parallel world, an art and gelato lover breathing the romance of cobblestones and hidden chapels that held works of the masters. Anyway, I think I’ve been eating pasta in overloads because of this section of the book. My mouth waters with every mention of fresh mozzarella.
I had a sweet time of prayer with the Lord today. There is a tree outside our second story office window that has a delicate limber trunk and dime-sized yellow-green leaves that shimmer with the tiniest breeze. I love them. Apparently they’re edible, but I would hate to take them off the tree. And anyway, I don’t know how to cook them.
Josiah likes tofu. This is a wonderful discovery for me, because I haven’t been able to get him to chew meat yet. But he can smash up the soft and protein-packed tofu, which I can season in different ways to expose him (finally!) to different flavors.
A little while ago he was contentedly sipping his juice out of his big boy sippy cup while I started pumping milk for his afternoon snack (I’m trying to get him to drink my milk in his cup so he’ll be ready for weaning). As soon as he saw my breast, he threw down the cup and came crawling at breakneck speed. I thought, This is not for you now, Josiah. These are not for you. As a matter of fact, in exactly 38 days, they’ll be mine again. They’ve been yours for almost a year now, and that has been my sacrifice to you, for you, for your health (and our budget). But on your first birthday, I’m taking them back. You’ll have to make good friends with your sippy cup, because he’s your new drinking buddy. My breasts are going to rehab.
I really am looking forward to the end of breastfeeding, although I imagine there will be times I’ll miss the closeness of it. I mean, after all, it has given me cuddle time with my baby for at least 5 times a day for a solid year. But I am looking forward to my relationship with Josiah when I’m no longer a 24 hour drive thru. It will be great to sit on the floor with him and play without him pushing at my breasts or pulling down my shirt. I’m looking forward to being just mommy, not mommy and the all important meal! I even think that his “ma-ma-ma-ma” babble isn’t really referring to me, but to the mammary glands which satisfy his hunger.
It’s amazing how many cycles of stress and worry and relief I’ve been over this past year. It’s a shame that those first months when he was sleeping every 2 hours were consumed by postpartum depression. I could have done a lot with that time…but it’s ok, because I rested. Each first for Josiah was a first for me, and when it didn’t go well it came with the first-time mommy stress: “I’m a terrible mother!” And then, after a few more tries, or after putting it away and coming back to it later, we would get through the obstacle, and here we are, with Josiah eating tofu and drinking juice out of a sippy cup and waving at people. If I could only get him to hug…
that’s next.
Pasta on Josiah’s nose.
