Work

Some high school art students took photos around the school a few weeks ago. This is me in action. After lunch, the kids have reading time. Here, Sammy and Jedd had asked me to read them a story. I love the expression on Sammy's face! I'll definitely miss my kids!

Fire!

The kids got to visit a nearby fire station today. They got to spray water, put on a fireman's outfit, and even learned how to do CPR on a dummy.

Lots of fun. I only have 5.5 more days with these pumpkins. I'm really going to miss them!

Exhale

"Sit up straight. Pretend there's a string coming out the top of your head. It's pulling you even straighter .... and straighter ... Now, close your eyes... Take a deeeeeep breath. Hold it. P-p-p-p-p-p, blow if out slooooooowly. Again..."

This simple breathing exercise has been one of my favorite tricks to calm down my 16 pumpkins. It works like a bomb. Every time. Even with the squirmiest kid, whom I have come to believe is the real-life version of Dash in The Incredibles.

But that's actually beside the point.

As is the fact that my kids have been learning about the sense of hearing this week, and thus made drums, guitars, you name it. They've been making shakers and testing different sounds. It's been a noisy week.

Add to that the fact that my research class concluded this week, which meant that I ferociously worked on completing my dissertation proposal. Which I sent in this morning.

That concludes this busy, noisy week.

Submitting today's paper is a significant milestone insofar as my studies go, as this document forms the road map to completing my dissertation. In it, I had to spell out exactly what my dissertation will be about, and how I plan to address my research. It also includes a detailed timeline to help me stay on track. Chapter by chapter, month by month, it leads me all the way to graduation. If all goes well, I should be able to graduate next summer.

For the past several months, my classes have been dovetailing, even overlapping. I've not had a chance to legitimately take time off and not have another deadline looming.

Today was different.

I was able to exhale. Big time. It will be a few weeks before I get feedback from my professor regarding changes I should make to my proposal before submitting it to the academic affairs committee for their approval.

I went to see Daisy, my favorite stylist, for some color and a cut. I had dinner with friends and didn't have to head home to do a few assignments. I watched a mindless movie.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And then I made a little pile on my nightstand of books I want to read in preparation for my writing, while waiting for my first rewriting assignment.

The book at the very top? This one. Then this one. And this one. And this and this and this one.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Though it was great to have the chance to simply take a break today, this train has slowed down for just a brief moment.

Maybe I should ask my little Dash for some of his speed so I can zip through my work just like he zips through his. (I can hear his little voice so clearly: "Miss Booysen, I'm done! What can I do now?")

A year from now, I, too, should be able to say, "I'm done!" But I already know what I want to do after that. Go and relax on a beach in Hawaii with some good friends. And take along only books like this one.

Or maybe not.

(I have actually been reading some non-class-related books on the side, by the way. Finished up Stones into Schools this week, and recently also completed the sequel to Left to Tell, about the Rwandan genocide.)

Needless to say, the biggest bulk of goods to be shipped this week in preparation for my move? Books. Can't imagine life without them!

Give me the courage to live

Give me the courage to live!
Really live—not merely exist.
Live dangerously,
Scorning risk!
Live honestly,
Daring the truth—
Particularly the truth of myself!
Live resiliently—
Ever changing, ever growing, ever adapting.
Enduring the pain of change
As though ’twere the travail of birth.
Give me the courage to live,
Give me the strength to be free
And endure the burden of freedom
And the loneliness of those without chains;
Let me not be trapped by success,
Nor by failure, nor pleasure, nor grief,
Nor malice, nor praise, nor remorse!
Give me the courage to go on!
Facing all that waits on the trail—
Going eagerly, joyously on,
And paying my way as I go,
Without anger or fear or regret
Taking what life gives,
Spending myself to the full,
Head high, spirit winged—
On . . . on . . . till the shadows draw close.
Then even when darkness shuts down,
And I go out alone, as I came,
Naked and blind as I came—
Even then, gracious God, hear my prayer:
Give me the courage to live!

~ by Howard Thurman (1899-1981)
I used this poem to conclude my hermeneutics paper tonight. Hope you find as much inspiration in Thurman's words as I did.

Have you no scar?

Yesterday, I received heartbreaking news that dear friends of mine (from college days, we were in a music group together, and have kept in touch over the years and the oceans) were attacked this week. Their house was broken into (nothing unusual in South Africa). My friend was raped (sadly, also not unusual in SA). Her husband was taken hostage and made to drive their car out of their gated community, where he was then let go (rather unusual!)

What is also unusual about their ordeal is that Louis and Hettie, as public figures in South Africa (he is a famous gospel singer/songwriter, she a writer of parenting books), are not allowing this ordeal to rob them of their purpose in life, of pointing others to God.

As I've been praying for them, I thought of a poem by Amy Carmichael that has ministered greatly to me during difficult times.

Jesus speaks to us:

Have you no scar? No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear you sung as mighty in the land.
I hear them hail your bright ascendant star.
Have you no scar?
Have you no wound?

Yet, I was wounded by the archers, spent,
leaned me against the tree to die,
and rent -- by ravenous beasts that encompassed me
I swooned.
Have you no wound?
No wound? No scar?

Yes, as the master shall the servant be,
and pierced are the feet that follow Me,
but yours are whole.
Can he have followed far -- who has no wound? No scar?
Can she have followed far -- who has no wound? No scar?

If you would, please join me in praying for my friends as they continue to walk through this trial, and especially as they continue with the arrangements for Turn2God, a major prayer/praise event on March 6, something they've been working on for a while...

Doctor?

Today, during free choice playtime, three of my kids were playing doctor, as is usually the case. I decided to have an impromptu mini-field trip for them, and took them to our nurses' office, where they marched in declaring that their babies needed to see another doctor.

Here are some photos from the visit. What can I say? My kids are cute! And I love that they could make the nurses chuckle, too!




I'd also love to have the ones who play in the kitchen visit our school kitchen, I think! Who needs long field trips when you can do fun stuff like this??

Yes, I love my job. Especially on days like today.

Lost

This morning, I got news that friends had lost their baby girl during birth.

My heart has been aching for them, and over and over, I keep thinking what an odd euphemism it is to "lose" someone.

I may never understand what it is like to carry a baby for 9 months and then come home empty-handed. I may never understand any of the emotions my friends are having to deal with this week. Yet my heart aches for them, and I face a mix of emotions someplace between anger and confusion.

I don't understand why a tragedy such as this happens.

What I do know that God is still God, and I believe without a doubt that his heart aches for them, too. I know that to him, little Isla is not lost.

I wonder how parents find peace in a situation such as this. I think only God can carry anyone through a valley such as this.

Even though I go through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me... (Ps. 23:4)

Please pray with me for my friends. As a general announcement has not yet been made, I do not want to mention their names here. God knows who they are, though. Let's carry them in prayer.

Things I Take for Granted

Morning after morning, I try and remind myself to tell you about some of the sights I see on my way to school. Things that might be foreign to you. Things I take for granted.

Like the breakfast stands. Food is a huge thing in Chinese culture. Around mealtimes, you greet people by asking if they've eaten yet. And many homes in this crowded city do not have big kitchens. So it's not unusual for people to eat out for many, if not most, meals. On my 7-minute drive to school, I pass a handful of breakfast stands. Some sell egg sandwiches. The real traditional ones sell Chinese pastries and soy bean milk, which is often handed to you in a small plastic bag. You can have it hot or cold, sweet or salty. I love sweet, warm soybean milk!

And then there are the people doing exercises. Exercising is as big a thing as food in Chinese culture, partly why you rarely see overweight Chinese people! On my ride to school, I pass two groups of ladies. If I'd drive a different route, I'd see many more men and women working out in the park that I drive by!

The first group I pass never fails to make me smile. They dance. And boy, do they dance. One lady, especially, looks like she may have always dreamed of being professional dancer. Her hair is always put up nicely, and curled. She always wears quite the outfit. And she's totally into the music. Keep in mind, this is around 7 a.m. Her group is comprised of about 20 other ladies who are almost as passionate as she is about dancing.

When I sit at the 5-phase traffic light, waiting my turn to go, I often watch another group of ladies in red and white. They do Tai Chi, I believe. In uniform. In sync. In all seriousness. And those ladies can bend and breathe like I can't at almost half their age. Their workout venue? At the entrance to a large Japanese department store. Where there's a decent space, you'll find people exercising every morning, from the crack of dawn.

Many parks have long stretches of rock, where people take off their shoes and walk barefoot on the smooth river rocks. Except, the rocks are planted into cement, a good inch apart, with the tips facing up. Walking across the rocks is really painful to the untrained foot. But it's great accu-pressure, a DIY foot massage.

On my way home, I often drive past a local market. If you step inside, you have rows of vendors selling fresh fish, fresh meat (with pig heads lying staring at you), fresh noodles, fresh flowers, fresh veggies. And then the odd little corner shops where you can buy fine China and such. Go figure.

The same drive home takes me past numerous food vendors, from young entrepreneurs who set up noodle stands in the back of a little pickup truck, to an old man who blows a whistle every time he's about to fire off his contraption that makes puffed rice. There are rows and rows of snack stands selling everything from shaved ice, hot or cold glutinous rice balls, seaweed treats, or finely-sliced cooked pig ears.

I can walk out any time of the night, if I so wished, and find a number of vendors selling good Chinese food. In my area, these vendors are fewer than, say, downtown, or in the college areas. What can I say? The Chinese people are serious about their food.

By now, you can tell that the Western idea of stereotypical Chinese food is far from correct. There are oh-so-many kinds of Chinese food. And other than deep-fried or steamed fermented soybean curd, I like it all.

Perhaps I should follow the unspoken advice of my neighbors and join them for their daily exercises in the park.

Simply enjoying

This afternoon, I decided to take a different road up the mountain, find a coffee shop, and read there. I remembered that this one road not too far from my home went clear up to the top of the mountain, where I used to house-sit and parrot-sit for friends.

I drove up steep, steep roads (perhaps at a 45 degree angle), encountering at times hairpin turn after hairpin turn. I'll definitely take another route down, I thought to myself. This'd be a bit much coming down on a scooter.

I passed unattended fruit stands, where you could weigh your own persimmons and starfruits and leave the money in a box. I stopped to pick up some seed pods to show my kids. I watched huge butterflies flutter by. I wished I had my camera with me.

The road took me past a pristine little garden on the side of the road. There was nothing there. Someone had simply made the little garden so you could sit there and take in the breathtaking view of all of Taipei county, all the way to the ocean.

I drove past a lazy dog or two, a couple working in their vegetable patch, and then, that was it. Dead end.

It's not the way I remember this road. What about the road to the Perkins' home? I wondered. As I drove back, I saw it. There was a little footpath up to my friends' home. I couldn't go up with my scooter. I'd have to ride down again.

I don't tend to look for the lesson in every single encounter in life, but as I was making my way down the mountain, I couldn't help but think that this is life. Sometimes, our expectations are unmet. Sometimes, the purpose of a journey is simply to enjoy just that very moment.

At times, the road might not lead to new things. But then again, it does, if only we'd open our eyes to what's around us.

And simply enjoy it.

"Miss Booysen, where does pasta come from? And cheese?"

We were talking about things we're thankful for again this morning. Says my one kid: "I ate pasta last night, Miss Booysen. I'm thankful for pasta! Oh, Miss Booysen? Where does pasta grow?"

We'd been talking about veges recently, and made a chart of which vegetables grow above ground, and which ones under the ground. I asked them to turn to their partners and come up with an answer. When they shared their answers, most thought that pasta grew on trees. I wonder if it is because there are some strange trees in our neighborhood with these strange-looking hairy, rooty things hanging from their branches! It looks kinda like dark spaghetti!

We decided we might have to go back to the market where we bought veges the other day to watch one vendor make pasta!

Then someone said they were thankful for cheese. Asks one of my most curious little kids: "Miss Booysen, where does cheese grow?" (Although it's more like, "Mith Booythen, whe' doth cheeth grow?")

After talking with their partners, some of the boys figured they knew. "In my belly button!" one laughed. "In my socks!" quipped another. Only boys would think of that!

Some thought it grew under the ground, other on trees.

"No!" another one explained. "It's from a cow!"

"It GROWS ON A COW?"

Yip. For real. That's what I like about 4-year-olds.

"No! You take the milk. You hit the milk. You get cheese."

So, there! Now we know!

So tomorrow we're writing down question to ask my friend's dad who used to be a cheese maker, so we can e-mail him or even see if we can set up a Skype call...

Kids are so curious! I love that about them. That, and a million other things. But not the cheese some of them are supposedly growing on their bodies.