Journey to the States…

Friday, March 20

1 p.m.

It is Day 3 of Penang’s Movement Control Order, or ‘lockdown.’  I’m drying my hands after lunch clean-up when my phone “dings.”  A moment later I am reading an urgent message from my government: all Americans are being urged to return immediately to the US… or plan to stay overseas for an indefinite period of time.

Neither Ross nor I are “turn and run” people. I am at home in Malaysia and do not feel unsafe.  But I feel my metabolism kick up a few notches as I acknowledge – something about this feels really big!  With an urgency I can’t explain, we decide right away to email Tim, a knowledgeable family friend and travel agent (who has just helped us book tickets to the US – with a departure date of May 20)… and take one day to pray.  That day feels long.

“Just in case,” Ross packs a bag of winter clothes.  When our boys see him, they delightedly run into their rooms and do their own packing. Is God preparing them for an earlier-than-planned departure?

Saturday, March 21 

9 p.m.

30 hours later, Ross and I have our word from God: try to get back to America. We have told the boys we may be leaving within a week.  They proudly show us their packed bags.

Finally reaching Tim, we ask if it is possible to change our tickets to a few days from now. His response is uncharacteristically uncertain: “Guys, I cannot guarantee anything about this trip.  Airports are closing all over the world. There’s a chance you could get stuck in another country. So you pray and hear from God – I’ll do whatever you decide.”  

“Change the tickets,” we say right away, already having our answer.

“You’ll hear from me in the morning.”

Sunday, March 22

10 a.m.

We hear from Tim – he has changed dates successfully to 25 March (Wednesday) but had to book from Kuala Lumpur, rather than Penang.  We purchase Penang/KL tickets to fly on Tuesday – giving us one day of “wiggle room” for anything unexpected.  

We tell the boys, “We are leaving on Tuesday!”  And… we begin to pack up our house on speed-setting!

7 p.m.

We receive an email from the airline, alerting us that the Taipei International Airport has just closed down completely; there are no alternate flights or routes available.  

Back to the drawing board.

10 p.m.

On the phone again, Tim says he will look for other options but doesn’t sound hopeful. Options are getting slim.  Once again we heard, “You’ll hear from me in the morning.”  We went to sleep with nothing booked but a short flight to K.L. on Tuesday.

Monday, March 23

4 a.m.

With some unsurprising anxiety, we are up early… and see an email saying our Tuesday Penang/KL flight has also been canceled.  Again we check our hearts and listen for the Holy Spirit… Yes. We still feel “go.” 

And now we have nothing booked at all.

6 a.m.

Tim manages to book us the other way around the world, through Abu Dhabi, departing on Thursday, 26 March, leaving from KL.  Soon as I hear, I get online with Air Asia and successfully change Tuesday’s canceled flight… to today!  

We begin the quietest packing we’ve ever accomplished, wanting the boys to sleep until their usual waking hour.

7 a.m.

We wake up our boys with the news “We are leaving today!”  And the clock is ticking – five hours to finish it all!  

Noon

We leave our house, picking up a Canadian friend who will be traveling to KL with us, and arrive in good time at the airport.  An eerily silent, empty airport.  Not one retailer is open, and only two flights are on the departure screens… for the whole day!  While we wait to board, we book the airport hotel in KL for THREE days… since our international flight won’t leave until Thursday.

We tell the boys, “Three days in a hotel, won’t that be fun? And then we’ll be on our way to America!”

4 p.m.

We land in KL, at Terminal 2. As we de-plane, I say quietly to our friend, “I honestly don’t think that our plane will be flying on Thursday. But we really feel like God says “go!”  I have no idea what is going to happen!”

As we load our luggage from the carousel to the baggage trolley, a sudden idea widens my eyes.  What if the airline has a similar flight leaving today?  Our Thursday tickets have a 7:15 p.m. departure time.  It is now 4:15… exactly three hours before it may take off… if there is such a flight.

Finding an information kiosk in the otherwise deserted airport, I get in touch with someone from Etihad, the airline we will be flying.  He is not able to help me, as all ticketing must go through their call center.  With a bit of gritting our teeth, we make the decision to lug our many bags over to Terminal 1, rather than getting to the hotel to relax.  On the way, I contact the call center.  After a long wait, I am told there are no seats on today’s flight, only two seats available on Tuesday’s flight, and none on Wednesday.  

“Standby?” I ask.  He says I must speak in person with those operating the flight.

5 p.m.

After inquiring at the Etihad help desk, I am informed they have PLENTY of seats available on both flights on our itinerary… but I will have to book through the call center.  I call again.  This time I wait an entire hour, praying in the Spirit the whole time, pacing up and down!  When I finally get through, and I hear the words, “Yes, ‘ma’am, we have you booked on today’s flight,” I do not hold back a few tears of thankfulness!

We turn to the boys: “We are leaving for America RIGHT NOW!”

6:15 p.m.

We check in for our flight, which begins boarding any minute, our heads spinning as we say goodbye to our travel friend.

Tuesday, March 24

4 p.m.

We land in Chicago after two long flights and a sleepover on the airport floor in Abu Dhabi!  We learn upon arriving that the Abu Dhabi airport shut down just hours after our flight departed.  If we had not left right away, we would not have been able to use those tickets!

3 p.m. Wednesday, March 25

We arrive at last in Minneapolis, making our way to my mom’s house.  My brother-in-law has dropped off a truck for us to drive ourselves home, because of our quarantine.  And in the end, we arrive at my mother’s house 12 hours before we were originally ticketed to depart from Malaysia!  

A Boy and His Bike

Have you heard the story about my mountain bike?

It begins with me saying, “When I first saw the Himalayas I cried, not because they were beautiful, but because I had no gear, no money, and I knew I wouldn’t be climbing any of them”.  I know this doesn’t sound like the beginning of a story about a bike, but it is.

You see, I grew up in Colorado.  As a teenager I discovered that extreme sports were my passion.  I kayaked, I climbed, I skied, I biked, I hiked, and I did whatever else I could find a way to try. I was happy, or so I thought.

During my first trip to the Himalayas as a 19-year-old, the Lord showed me that I had another god before him… or in this case several. During the next 3 years I didn’t have a bike or an opportunity to do many of these other sports on a regular basis. To say I didn’t miss these things would be lying, but I really wanted God to be on the throne of my life, and I began to realize that He was so big, beyond big, that if He was going to be there, then there was no room for anything else. It was a challenging season with many highs and lows, but by the end of it I was living in the Himalayas and more concerned about the people tucked away in the high valleys than the snowy summits.

And then God gave me a bike!  This very model, year, and color.  I used that bike for the next several years as my primary form of transport. I had so much fun tearing around the Kathmandu valley and surrounding country side on it. I visited many teams on that bike, rode across the city during many vehicle strikes, and explored many trails.

After a few years, it was stolen. While I was in the States, my friend’s dog was poisoned and their storage room was broken into and it was taken along with a number of gas cylinders and other things.  When I received the news my response was, “Forget about my bike, I’m sorry about your dog.”  Sure I missed the bike, and it was inconvenient getting another one, but I was fine; God was on the throne and He was not going to be displaced that easily.

Over the years, other things have tried to slide up next to Him on the throne… wheels, technology, relationships, etc. It reminds me of a skit I used to do with my brother with the punchline: “Everyone is a slave to something –  we just have to decide who our master is.”

I have been in a challenging season the last number of years since leaving India (and incidentally a new bike that I had just purchased).  I had many dreams for India, and the last number of years God has revealed my own heart in new depths.  Not the obvious idols that can be touched, but the more subtle ones: pride, motives, security, finding identity in tangible activities with numbers to report.

So now we come to the mountain bike part of the story.  A few weeks ago, an ad for this bike appeared in my inbox, and I was able to purchase it.  Because of my struggle with the heat, the nomadic nature of our lives, and financial constraints I could never have justified buying a new bike.  This bike is the very same color, make and year as my Himalaya bike!

God keeps showing us that He can give us stuff.  In fact, if you were to come over to our house right now, “nomadic” would not be the word to describe what you see.  He is showing us that the stuff is just another vehicle to bring His kingdom to the world around us.  As we lead the nations in worship and serve those He gives us to care for, possessions serve us in these purposes; we don’t serve them.  He is on the throne.

A Life Snippet – Constant Tension

As with any job, our work has its ongoing tensions.  One of these is material possessions.  General ministry principles encourage cross-cultural workers not to live too far above or too far below those to whom you are ministering.  The unique challenge we face is that we do not work with one social status but serve and encourage those living in many different levels.  Some of the families we work with still pile their family of five on one motorbike.  Others have two cars.  So when I went to buy a mountain bike the other day, I had to consider how others would react, not out of guilt but out of respect. “Should we get a bookshelf?” becomes a question not only of budget but of maintaining approachability for those who live off a much lower income than most of us can imagine.  Years ago in Nepal, I used to deal with teams who were struggling with the quality of their $3 steak… and later that afternoon take a bunch of bananas to my friends who were struggling to keep their babies nourished.  This is not a new tension for us to live with, but an ongoing area which we have to hold up to God in prayer.

-Ross

“…something to be grasped…”

One night nearly two years ago, I rocked my one-year-old nephew to sleep and cried.  I looked around his beautiful room, feeling the smooth motion of the glider where I sat, taking in the bars of the crib, the changing table, the adorable wall hangings, and letting the fluffy carpet work its way between my toes.  And I thought to myself: my babies will never have this.

Though newly married and not looking to have kids anytime too soon, I knew then I had chosen a life that would lead to a totally different child-rearing experience.  And I grieved over this.  

But the Lord spoke to me soon after that sad night.  He spoke this phrase from Philippians 2:6 – that Jesus “did not consider equality with God something to be grasped…” This shook me. “Something to be grasped” does not say anything about good or bad, rightness or wrongness.  Just not worth grasping.  Jesus was equal with God.  Was this good? Yes! Right? Yes!  Yet He knew it was not worth holding onto, and he let it go.

So since that time I have been doing this.  Finding new things I am “missing” that really are not worth grasping at all.  The adorable comfy-cozy baby room was the first of these.  There have been many more.  Several popped up their heads during my pregnancy.  “Just wait,” both my mother and sister foretold, “you’ll be sleeping on the couch before long! We all do!”  I laughed it off, saying surely I would be able to manage to sleep in my bed through the whole 9 months, but inwardly pouting, “I don’t have a couch!!!”  But the Lord was quick to remind me.  Couches?  Lovely.  But not worth grasping.

Same goes for bathtubs, Target, and dishwashers. Also clothes dryers and reliable electricity.  But it holds true for much deeper desires as well.  Like nearness to family.  Being able to walk through pregnancy and loss together with loved ones.  Attending funerals of friends.  Watching nieces and nephews grow up in person.  Giving our baby grandmothers, aunties, uncles, and cousins “in the flesh”, not just on Skype.

On a regular basis, I review this lesson from Jesus.  I have to.  And do you know what I find?  Those things that are not “something to be grasped”…   really are not something to be grasped!  My adorable baby is lacking nothing! He takes his bath in a plastic tub and splashes on our concrete floors to his heart’s content. His travel bed is as homey to him as any traditional crib.  Where carpet is lacking, we always have a few extra thin mattresses to lay out. Adorable wall hangings can be found anywhere, and anyway, do I really care? No… I have yet to hang a kids decoration.  I admit, a rocking chair would be nice, but I’ve managed to nurse my infant in a variety of places and it works just fine. 

Best of all, I’ve discovered that the hardest things to give up are the things Jesus keeps giving back. Did you know it’s possible to have a growing relationship with your family through video calls?  Thank God for the internet!  I feel as close to my three-year-old nephew through Skype as I ever could in person.  He loves us – we love him!  And even some of the smaller “luxuries” I’ve laid down come back to me occasionally – like a bathtub during our stay in Germany.

So here is my thanks to Jesus, who set the example in a way I know I could never perfectly follow.  He willingly laid down everything he could in order to bring us to the Father.  When I lay down a few things here and there, I am mirroring him in the smallest way, if I do it with thankfulness.

Thank you, Jesus. For you I will lay down whatever you show me is not “something to be grasped.”

Milestone

Tonight was a milestone.

I got in our car (right side) and drove to worship practice (left side of the road, shifting with my left hand.)

Afterwards, I drove myself home.

I have been set free! 

Important note: the above parentheses refer to the slightest of challenges. The real fear factors were all around me: bicycles, scooters, motorcycles, rickshaws, pedestrians, Altos and BMW’s (seriously!) – all of whom might do ANYTHING at ANYTIME!  Literally.  

India is a place where a roundabout has five possible directions: left, straight, right, U-turn, or heaven. (I guess maybe it’s six directions…)

Seriously, folks. I am now all grown up. I drove in India.

-Mindy

Hostel for College Going Blind Students

While we were in Delhi last month, we passed this sign everyday. And I realized: by letting our blog go into disuse (because of being overwhelmed with culture, being pregnant and other various excuses) we were robbing our friends and family of key insights into living over seas. (And a bunch of funny stuff we get to see every day!) From now on this blog will be used to hopefully re-open that window of insight (and humor) into some of our experiences. I am guessing many posts will have to do with having a white baby in a country predominantly populated by non- white people. Hope you enjoy.

This sign, by the way, is meant to convey that this is a dorm for blind college students… not for students who are “going blind.” We laughed every time we passed it.

Humbling Mumbling

It has been interesting to see how our language learning comes so differently.  Mindy is methodically building her vocabulary and grammar, speaking clear complete sentences… even if they do come out as “Your baby’s name is ‘I don’t know’” or “In childhood, there was a gap between me and my teeth.”

Mine has formed up more as what the locals would call Kichidee.  This is basically the stew you get when you take whatever you happen to have in the pantry and throw it all in one pot.  I can usually make myself understood with a mix of Hindi, Nepali, and English…. And I if I am lacking the right word I end up just mumbling that portion of the sentence.

Needless to say this has been quite humbling for both of us as we mumble like babies and create wonderful sentences that make no sense in any language.  Fortunately we are developing a group of friend that understand where we are and are sometimes helpful as we try to move forward.

Mindy has one short story: “During a visit to a nearby village, our conversation lagged after about an hour.  In a newly acquired second language, there aren’t that many comfortable topics at hand.  Inwardly reaching for something to say, I noticed that next to their house about a dozen water buffalo were resting.  I thought it might be interesting to live so close to a herd of buffalo, and thought I’d mention it.  So, very clearly (and loudly, I might add) I said to our new friends: “Your neighbors are animals!” Right away, Ross’s eyes widened and the others began laughing.  Ross looked meaningfully toward the driveway, and there I saw two neighbors (of the human sort) sitting and chatting… well within earshot.  We laughed until we cried, all of us.”

Cultural Quibbles

It is strange to be in a land where many oddities are familiar after spending ten years in Nepal.  Blaring horns and pounding drums in the middle of the night celebrating a wedding or a guru.  Waking up to the whirring of the water pump, accompanied by the hacking of neighbors as they perform their morning toothbrushing and tongue-scraping routine.  The sweeping.  The cumbersome metal latches being worked open.  These have all become familiar to me.

There are also many things that feel foreign to me as we put down roots in India.  A new language.  A different government to deal with.  New cities, leaders, co-workers, etc… And making all these adjustments with a wife instead of alone.

Then there are some things that just make you stop and go “huh?”  These can happen in any culture, but they seem to happen more frequently when you’re crossing cultures.  These are what I will be calling cultural “quibbles”.  Not really culture “shock” or “squabble”.  Just the sort of thing that throws off your groove…

Aligning a wheel

My cycle was riding a little rough, so I joined a friend in going to the repair shop down the street.  Next thing I know, I am sitting in the shop with a son handing both of my tires to his blind father to align the wheels.  It was amazing to see this done so proficiently by touch and the sound of scraping metal.  My cycle is riding great now.

Ironic?

We live in the Punjab, where there is a high concentration of Sikhs.  A core part of Sikh beliefs includes a Samson-like vow: the men never cut their hair or their beards.  Instead, they wrap their hair up in a turban, and roll the beard tightly under their chins.  (The polite way to address a Sikh man in Hindi is sardarji, which basically means “sir in a turban.”)  One day as I was walking through our village, I was approached by two young, well-dressed Sikh men.  They were passing out promotional fliers.  I took one.  Imagine my surprise when I found out what they were advertising for.

A hair-styling academy!

More to follow…

Music

We have added a Music page and also a playlist link to the right side menu. Enjoy

when it rains it pours

This is a phrase that I have often heard.  Unfortunately, I have heard it a few times this week as the number of painful occurrences starts to stack up.  Some of these have been shared… some have not.

The most amazing truth I have experienced is that when the hurt rains down I also sense God’s spirit pouring down.  He has not taken away the pain, but he has been with us in the pain.  As we reach out, and also when we fail to reach out, he has met us.