He Still Calms the Seas

Culture stress ebbs and flows like the waves of the sea. It is always present like an undercurrent tugging beneath the surface. Most days you manage to stand firm against the unsteady motion tempting to pull you off course. Some days you make a conscious effort to be carried away for a brief reprieve from the constant strain that wears on your body and soul. And then there are those days when culture stress unexpectedly comes crashing into your delicate little world threatening to dismantle your well being.

It is at times such as these that your very existence is questioned, “Do I have what it takes?”, “What am I doing here?”, “Why me?” Now, I want to clarify something here. I am not a “Why me'er?” I am not an emotional female who cries every twenty four days when her hormones are off kilter or who gets her feelings hurt when her friends or family don't act according to her wishes. However, this would not have been so evident September 8^th, 2010. Without going into too much detail, let's just say the waves of culture stress, homesickness, and fatigue tumbled into my world with great immensity. I was carried off into the depths (of what I still cannot describe), and I could not find my way back to shore.

Prior to this point I understood sadness, loneliness, spiritual dryness, and confusion. However, they had always been intermingled with moments of joy, love, and spiritual insight. Suddenly I found myself in unchartered water. There was no presence of joy. When I smiled it was simply a facial expression. But the emotions that should be attached to that smile were lost at sea. When we purposed to have family time, I felt disconnected. I knew in my head that I loved my husband and son, but the deep security and warmth this knowledge had brought in years past was beyond reach. And where was God? I had faith He was there. He always had been. And I believed in my heart of hearts He always would be. But the words of my five year old son haunted me, “Mom, I know God is there, but I want to SEE Him. I want to FEEL Him.” How desperately I wanted to see and feel God.

It is my understanding that this is not unusual for those who do what we do. We were “trained” in matters such as these. However, nothing prepares you for the riptide that sends you into an emotional vortex. And nothing is more wonderful than the love that pulls you from the cloudy depths of despair. Lost in an ocean of suffering I wanted to see God, to feel God. And He chose to use my husband and a dear friend to display His never-ending, unconditional compassion and love for me.

I was surprised with a trip to Hong Kong for my Fortieth Birthday. I was told later that my husband had said he would have spent any amount of money to put a smile back on my face. Due to a friend's generosity, he didn't have to break the bank to receive that long awaited smile. You know the kind of smile that is actualized by true feelings of deep joy and genuine appreciation. However, it wasn't Hong Kong that renewed my broken spirit. The incredible show of love that was bestowed upon me by my husband and a dear friend refreshed my weary soul. And there were others involved in this too. Those who were oceans apart yet moved merriment into my heart like a swift change in the current. It was their willingness to sacrifice time, effort, money, and more so that I may realize that I was loved. Not just by them, but by the God I had desperately been desiring to see and feel. I sent a thank you to my special friend who helped treat me to a weekend in HK. In her response to me she said, “Don't be overwhelmed by me, because it is not me. Be overwhelmed by Jesus, and His love for you.” And I am. So very overwhelmed. And so very grateful that He is more powerful than the title waves that threatened to ravage my fragile perseverance.

Big City Nights (and Days)

Monday, September 20^th we embarked on a wonderful journey to the land of civilization. And by civilization I mean Western malls, TGI Fridays, genuine smiles from strangers, Cinnabon, sentences constructed with please and thank you, and Pancake Houses that can sentence one to eternal damnation (in other words, they serve pork). Two hours in the sky, two and a half hours on a bus, and two cab rides later we find ourselves at the Mall of Asia in Manila. It was quite an amazing journey. The bus driver spoke English. The cab driver spoke English. The merchants in the mall spoke English. We managed three consecutive days without struggling in language.

Our evening started off with the sheer thrill of ordering salmon for $7.50 and a rack of ribs for less than $10.00. Oh, the joys of a delicious American meal for a not so outrageous price. In SEA one typically pays the piper for American dining. Chatting after dinner, with appetites satisfied and frugal minds pleased, a disturbing realization interrupted our bliss. Turns out we were mistaken on the exchange rate. My salmon was $17.00, and Brian's rack of ribs was over $20.00. With our salary differential that would be equivalent to us spending $200 on a meal in America. So much for not so outrageous:).

If there were a heaven on earth, it would be the Krispy Kreme located in the Mall of Asia. We stood outside the Krispy Kreme momentarily admiring the logo and marveling at the sweet aroma of sugary fried dough. Upon entering the tantalizing delicatessen we discovered the most delectable cruller ever to be created...the Hot & Now Double Chocolate Cake doughnut. As the rich fudge icing oozed over the hot, delightful chocolate confection, I'm quite certain I heard a choir of Angels singing as we deposited that tasty morsel into our mouths. Yep, if there were a heaven on earth we had surely found it.

If there were a Hell on earth, it could quite possibly be found in the streets of downtown Manila. Driving on narrow roads through mountainous terrain, passing vehicles around sharp curves with no shoulder in countries like Indonesia and Malaysia at one time seemed rather intense. No more. The fast paced, crowded highways of Manila proved to be more risky than the untamed rural areas of the third world countries we had traveled. Our lives flashed before our eyes several dozen times in the short ten minute ride to the mall. Yellow and white lines marking the lanes were mere artwork painted on asphalt for no other purpose than to pay someone for doing something with their time. These lines by no means kept the various vehicles on the road in an organized fashion. Cars, buses, and Jeepneys forced their way through imaginary lanes. Horns resounded haphazardly as if some drunken maestro amused himself by directing a symphony of out-of-tuned instruments. It was alarming on many levels.

Putting aside the dangerous roadways, the incredibly loud noise, and the staggering pollution, Manila was a much needed break from the norm. HyperMart was amazing. It was like Wal Mart, but the people were friendly. The Mall of Asia was clean, kid friendly, and had logical escalators. The food was insanely American! And the company was heart-warming. We were able to spend time with friends who spoke English, understood our culture stress, and made us laugh. It wasn't the good ole US of A, but it was the closest we've experienced since being in SEA. And we are most grateful:).  

The Village People

This past month has been intriguing. Our typically talkative friends who enjoy teasing and laughing have been publicly somber. Our conversations have been serious and straight forward, void of light-hearted jabs and scattered snickers. For this past month, most of our local friends have observed Ramadan.

During the month of Ramadan Muslims are required to abstain from satisfying their most basic needs and cravings between sunrise and sunset. Therefore, they do not eat, drink, smoke, or gratify any other personal desires during daylight hours. In addition, many refrain from public display of animation and mischief. It can be a rather solemn time.

Questions have arisen as a result of this time of fasting. They've inquired, "Do you fast?" and "What is it like for you?" We've been able to explain that as Christians we are not "required” to fast, although it is a healthy practice. The purpose of Christian fasting should be to take our eyes off the things of this world and focus our thoughts on God, deepening our relationship with Him. In addition, our fasting differs in that we do not fast publicly. Instead, our fasting should be obvious only to God. It has initiated some interesting conversations for sure.

These conversations have been a catapult for learning. Not only concerning local culture and religion, but concerning our own culture, religion, and values. In asking questions of others, we've had to ask these same questions of self. Doing so has required us to examine whether our actions mirror what we say we believe. Needless to say, there has been a lot of soul searching in the process.

To mark the culmination of Ramadan, Muslims celebrate the festival of Hari Raya Puasa. The time of fasting ends when the new moon is sighted on the evening of the last day of Ramadan. Then the festivities begin! The celebration of Hari Raya lasts a full month. However, it is the first three days that involve traveling to villages, multiple open houses, family fellowship, and more food than one can imagine!

In the past three days we've visited eight houses, seven villages, four towns, and countless people. Throughout this experience, we were humbled at the hospitality and generosity extended to us. God has blessed us with some amazing friends in SEA. In many aspects the celebration has been quite a surreal experience. It is hard to believe that a year ago we were visiting friends in air conditioned homes, sitting at dinner tables, and eating with china and silverware (And napkins! Oh, for a meal with napkins!). Today we visit homes “cooled” by open windows and doors, sit on floors or couches with plates in our laps, eat with our hands or tin spoons, and long for those small, quilted squares that absorb grease and prevent the crumbs from finding residence in ones clothes.

Nestled on the floor, we enjoyed the company of local friends and delicious traditional fare. We smiled to ourselves as many of the villagers would sneak by and peak through the doorways of our friends' homes. Our friends laughed aloud at the gawkers. We all understood that for many of these folks it was the first time they had seen an American up close. And a white person had never walked the paths of their village before. At least not in their lifetime. We were cheap entertainment. And we didn't mind at all.

Ramadan and Hari Raya have been instruments to further enlighten our family's understanding of the people we've come to love. They have also been instruments to deepen our own faith. Our local friends have been taught that to question one's beliefs is unacceptable. However, if one doesn't know why they believe what they believe, how can one completely and firmly take hold of their faith and defend that faith when it is tested. And it will be tested. As we endeavor to embrace the life we have been given in a land far away, may we stand strong during times of testing.