Picture of the Week: Help

Lydia and I love to bake together. She's such a great helper. And sometimes she even helps our family's helper! Here she is making chapati with Teresa, our newly hired house-helper. (Lydia is using blue play-doh). 

It's almost a cultural mandate here to have a house-helper at least (if not a driver, cook, gardener, etc). If we choose not to hire a woman to clean our home it would appear that we are trying to hide something. Which we are not. Plus, you would have the added malady of my house-work driven insanity! 

Teresa comes two hours a day to sweep and mop (which must be done practically every day due to the dust that settles after having the windows open all the time...we have no a/c), clean bathrooms, do the dishes and two days a week she cooks for us! So, yes, we have a maid. And I feel the need to justify this. Because, well, I'm American and having house-helpers is just not for people of my uh, status. (I tried to explain this to Teresa. She just looked at me with an expression that said "Americans are crazy." Perhaps we are.)

Basically, having Teresa do some of the work frees me to actually play with our kids, go to the market, update this blog. I still do far more housework than I did in the States. Her cooking twice a week gives us a taste of national food (albeit very toned down on the spices) and I can watch and learn. I ask her so many questions! She laughs when I jump when she uses the pressure cooker. While she cooks, I prep veggies and while she washes dishes I dirty more by baking bread or lasagna. While she mops I read Lydia a book on our bed or run down to the banana cart. 

Of course, it's more about the work getting done. It's about the relationship we are building. We have invited Teresa into our home every afternoon. Yes, to work...but also to be an audience to Lydia's impromptu dance recitals, to hold Molly while I light the oven, to taste cookies I just baked, to ask the word for "monkey" or "little princess" (which she has taken to calling the girls...Chata Rani). 

Yesterday, Teresa's husband fell ill and is in the hospital. Most likely from impure water. I prayed for him with her. She cried. I hugged her. It felt awkward and right at the same time. We asked her to leave work and go see him. She protested, but soon heeded and went to be with her family. 

She is my closest national friend. And my only employee. A tension and bond that is interesting and (I pray) will be used for the glory of God.

Picture of the Week: Marked

Yes, there is marker on Lydia's forehead. She was coloring our latest craft and as I put away the glue stick and scissors.... "Lydia! No! You shouldn't color on your forehead!"

"Mommy, lots of other people out there [she pointed out the window] have marks on their foreheads. Why can't I?"

So, my crafty preschooler wasn't being snarky. She was being culturally observant. Yes, lots of people "out there" do have marks on their foreheads. I explained to Lydia that these marks were signs of devotion to pretend gods. Most of the time, they are dots of powdered dye placed on the head after one visits the temple...a blessing of sorts. We hadn't talked about it before, but it's hard to miss. Most people here have these marks.

As I scrubbed the marker off her forehead I shared about what Christ has done. He marks us as His but not on our foreheads with dye or washable marker. He marks our hearts with His blood and name. I appreciate her desire to be like our neighbors, but maybe we'll stick to saris! 

Picture of the Week: Inside the Gate

This is right inside the gate.

I come in from a world of broken sidewalks (and I do mean broken...think, Lydia-sized holes into open sewage), chaotic traffic, women pinching your children's cheeks, stray dogs, cows, ants the size of a small cat, trash (piles and piles of trash), men spitting (or worse) and all the assault to the senses that this country is. Our building security guard (there are four of them: Renky, Robert-Alex, Reginalden, or Anthony) greets me, "Namaskara!" and opens the creaking wooden gate to this. A little garden corridor, and I'm home. We live 3 floors up, but as soon as I enter in the gate I feel at ease.

We have lived in this new apartment for almost 3 weeks. We can still hear the Muslim call to prayer and the "wake-up bird" (which is actually an Asian Koel...quite obnoxious and happily chimes the children awake close to 5am), still smell the fragrant sandalwood and incense being offered to the Hindu gods by our neighbors, and watch the women crack open coconuts just below the balcony where my washer sits. But this has already become a safe place. It's a retreat. It's a home. And I suppose it is an escape from all that's outside the gate, but it is also very much a part of this place. Our little piece of the city.

As a bonus, here is the little path to the building's playground the girls and I frequent. It has two swings, a slide and lots of shells in the sand to discover! 

Disney Trip: Snow White

A few days back, we received a wonderful care package from Nana which contained a picture book of our Disney Trip. Lydia loves to read it and look at the pictures. For me, I remembered that I haven't finished posting some of the best pictures of us during our trip. 

I love the Disney princesses. Ok, I know Lydia loves them so much more and a matter of fact, in a different way. Maybe I have stated this before, but I was blow away by how the Disney princesses spent so much time with the kids who come up to them. And Snow White, being the fairest of them all, did not disappoint. These are just a few pictures; but you have to understand, Snow White spent about 10 minutes with Lydia while there was a growing line behind her. 

Lydia here, by her own sweet heart, gave this flower necklace to Snow White. Oh, the smile own both of their faces was a keepsake. 

After lots of hugs, Lydia jumps right to her question, "where are her friends?" Snow White, as sweet as she is, leads my little girl around looking for the seven dwarfs.

She takes her to all kinds of places: the door. They knock, but nobody is home.

Behind the bushes: They are not there as well. Snow White concludes to tell Lydia that they must be at work in the diamond mines.

But, the conversation didn't finish. They just talked it up as if they were best friends.

 Loving every moment even when they had to say their good-byes (or, at least, in Lydia's mind, see you in a few years!)

Since Lydia gave Snow White a gift, Snow White in return gave Lydia one: A big, red kiss on the cheek. At this moment, Lydia probably was the happiest girl in the whole park.

Molly is Crawly

Yep, Molly is crawly. She has been for about 3 weeks now. Just wanted to blog it. There you go.

Picture of the Week: Wash your Feet

Cute, but oh so gross. 

These are Lydia and Molly's little feet after a few minutes of playing outside. Big city + tropical environment + very few public trashcans + cows roaming the streets = dirty feet. So we've added washing our feet to our as-soon-as-we-come-in-the-door routine. We hoist them up to the sink and scrub all of our souvenirs right down the drain. 

Just thought you might like to know...baby feet are not always kissable!

From one degree of glory to another

There is real change happening here. It is not just (just!) the whirlwind of moving our family to another country, the upheaval of unpacking, the settling into our new apartment, the re-establishment of some sense of routine and way of life. It is not just a new language, culture or worldview. Sanctification is happening. Transformation. Glorious Change! 

"And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another." (2 Corinthians 3:18)

I am becoming more like Jesus. I am becoming more glorious. Is that ok to say? Sounds almost blasphemous...but that's really what is right. I behold the glory of the Lord (with my Christ-ripped-off-veil) and I am changed. 

Somehow when all I crave in this chaotic country and new life is routine, sameness, and easy familiarity this change comforts me. This promise, this reality excites me. 

Picture of the Week: Auto!

Alright, last week's post was a bummer. I know. Here is something a little more peppy...transportation!

Seriously, this is fun. We are without a car for the time being (and probably will be for quite a while) so our main modes of transportation around the city are walking and auto-rickshaws. The best they can be described is a kind of 3-wheel turbo powered golf cart. The driver sits up front and you (your kids and all the stuff you got at the store) pile onto a bench in the back. You can hail an auto by simply patting your hand out (Lydia knows how to do this now). Then you tell them where you want to go, negotiate a price and then off you go! Sometimes, yes, they do try to get more money from the obvious foreigner, but don't worry there are plenty...as soon as you start negotiating 3 more autos usually pull up behind capture your business.

Anyways, it's not a bad way to travel. It's open air (so, mostly breezy...ish) and I get to look around while my driver concentrates on the road (which is chaos), and I can get most anywhere for under $2. The girls have grown to love it (Molly usually falls asleep, Lydia finds cows and pink scooters along the way) and Brian is a master negotiator (once holding onto the auto while the driver refused to give him change...an equivalent of about 20 cents, but it was the principle off the thing!).

Picture of [Last] Week: Disconnected

Sorry, no picture from last week. We didn't have internet (and therefore no facebook, blog, email, skype, facetime, vonage phone, or...my latest while-I'm-feeding-Molly perusal...pinterest) for just about a week. So, I suppose I could cheat and post a picture from last week, but instead I'll share an interesting thing about life here.

A picture paints a thousand words. A lack of picture may just drive home a point.

Things take a lot of time. In a relational society (not time/task-oriented like the good ol' US of A), you can call to get your internet fixed and you will hear "Yes, Madam, of course, no problem. We will fix it in the morning." And as you wait for the service man to show up (which he doesn't...not at 8am, not at 10am, not all day), you can either a) accept the differences of this kind of society and appointment-keeping and see this not as rudeness or promise-breaking but simply as a difference or you can b) get more and more frustrated with each passing minute and feel like your day was wasted and take it out on your kids and husband because all you really want to do is check your email, update your status on facebook, blog your thoughts, and call your friends back in the States and then feel guilty about your dependence on such things. Guess where I landed?

So, eventually, yes they fixed the problem. But it took 6 days, many phone calls, and much worrying over [really truly!] nothing. Here, though, is another reality of culture shock and ethnocentrism and...sigh, my own heart. I wanted things to be "normal" (aka just like in the States). I want to have everything I need right at my fingertips. I want control. I want to thrive in two worlds...and it's getting harder.

Picture of the Week: Vegetable "Soup"

Life here has it's oddities and inconveniences. We live in a large city and the grocery stores carry a good bit of what I need (for instance, just found oreos...and yes, I needed them). There are American restaurants, air-conditioned buildings and coffee shops. Nothing to complain about really, but despite all this there are a thousand little things to adjust to. A thousand little reminders that I am in a very different place (like the herd of goats I saw walking down the street just a minute ago). And here I go adjusting.

In case you were wondering, this is bell peppers, zucchini, broccoli, little red onions
and avocados (yes, I found them here!) 

For instance, produce. Because of the unsanitary conditions, when one buys fresh fruit of vegetables one must soak them in a purified water and bleach solution for 20 minutes, then again in purified water for another 20 minutes. Then, enjoy! Not that bad right? Try to forget about the trace amounts of bleach you are ingesting. And I suppose I will get used to this little system, a few extra steps in dinner prep. Adjusting, yes here I go.

Picture of the Week: Married Toes

It's official. Brian and I are married. Yes, I know that happened almost 7 years ago, but on this side of the world we have marked a new milestone. 

I have declared it with my toes.

 In this country, that ring on my left hand doesn't announce my relationship status. Toe rings do the trick. A trip with some girl friends to the "commercial district" and I came back a [culturally declared] married woman. (We also managed to find culturally appropriate...and cute...sandals [worn here] and clothing!)