Eyes Like Jesus

Today during recreation time I was sitting and talking with a group of teenage orphan girls. One of them gazed into my eyes and, in all earnestness, said, “Wow, you have eyes like Jesus!” The other girls all enthusiastically nodded their heads in agreement. I was confused. Eyes like Jesus? What does that mean? I asked for clarification, but didn’t get a satisfactory answer. Surely they didn’t mean my eyes look like Jesus’ eyes. Who knows what His eyes look like?

This girl’s statement stuck with me through the rest of the day. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand what she meant by this, but I felt honored and flattered. What a compliment to receive! Beauty is fleeting, but “eyes like Jesus”…wow! As I reflected on the meaning of this statement later, I came up with 2 possibilities:

1.)    Maybe they saw (but didn’t realize) the reflection of Jesus in my eyes. After all, I was looking at THEM, and these girls always show me Jesus’ love and goodness through their kindness, smiles, laughs and camaraderie. 

2.)    Jesus’ eyes looked on all of creation with LOVE. He saw the good in others. He saw their faith, their potential. Could it be that I am starting to see the good in others and the beauty in all of creation that surrounds me, too? It’s easy enough to find faults in others and in the broken, sinful world we live in.  I think I have done this pretty naturally most of my life.  But it is a challenge to choose instead to see the bright side of life.  Has my time here given me a different outlook, a new perspective, eyes that look on the world with hope, love and joy instead of doubt and criticism? 

I guess the first explanation is more probable, but the second explanation is something that may be GRAUDALLY occurring in me and something I would like to STRIVE toward.

Cravings!!

Cravings…they’re everywhere!

I believe I have grown pretty accustomed to East Timorese food-or, at least the food served here at the convent-and I honestly really enjoy it! The biggest surprise to me was seeing white rice and bread served at every meal! There is an abundance of green vegetables (which are almost always dripping with oil!), breadfruit (actually a vegetable), corn and potatoes, as well sweet, delicious fruits served for dessert such as bananas, mangoes, grapefruit, apples, oranges, pineapple and jackfruit! We eat eggs and fish often, and have chicken or pork once or twice a week.

Although I eat well, over my time here I have experienced some pretty strong cravings for foods from back home: Most notably:

The color of the altar server’s robes at Sunday Mass remind me of Bluebell Vanilla Bean ice cream! It is very hard to concentrate on the readings when I am salivating over ice cream!

The other day on one of my morning runs I passed a hut where I smelled the distinct aroma of BBQ! Oh how I longed to be at Harold’s Restaurant chowing down on some brisket, sausage or turkey, cornbread, green beans and a nice peach cobbler for dessert!

We had red beans the other night for dinner. Their smell reminded me of refried beans, and I instantly hearkened back to my love of Mexican food and Casa Herrera (where I had my farewell party way back in September!). I think this will be the first restaurant I go to once I am back in Abilene (family and friends take note)!

My Bath and Body works hand sanitizer is a wonderful (Christmas) scent called, “Caramel Apple Spice”. I really love it! Although I have been using it for a few months now, today for the first time the scent reminded me of Swedish Fish candy!

Other things I have been craving (for no apparent reason): goldfish crackers, waffles, cereal and oatmeal, Wendy’s chocolate frosties, my mom’s chili and my Nana’s mashed potatoes :D

Whew, I better wrap this blog up…just writing about these things makes me hungry! As a footnote, I would like to emphasize that I am really so grateful to be here and blessed to have 3 meals a day (and snacks available to me, too).  I know I am eating much better than many East Timorese people, so I don’t want to sound like I am complaining. I’m NOT. I just thought you might enjoy reading what foods I miss. Oh, and the next time you reach for your favorite snack (or any of the items listed above), please say a special prayer for everyone here in East Timor!! Thank you and God Bless! :D 

Valentine's Day

For many people, a perfect Valentine’s Day might entail strolling along the beach/park/lane, hand-in-hand with your significant other, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ear. The highlight of my Valentine’s Day here in East Timor was a little different. Valentine’s Day afternoon found me walking along a dirt road, hand in hand with orphan girls exuberantly singing Christian songs as we made our way to religious education classes! It was a blast! As these beautiful, spirited, caring, Christian girls and I sang and sauntered to the chapel in the glorious February sunshine, I felt so blessed, joyful, and of course, LOVED. What an unforgettable way to spend Valentine’s Day!

Wishing everyone a very fun, blessed, sweet and chocolate-filled day!

Baucau OW!

This past weekend I went on a shopping trip to Baucau, the second largest city in East Timor. I was desperately in need of some “retail therapy.” I didn’t know I would end up needing a different kind therapy by the end of the trip!

Baucau is just an hour away by mikrolet. This was my first trip alone on the mikrolet, but I didn’t mind. I’ve been here more than four months, so I was confident getting there and back would not be a problem. The ride to Baucau was quite pleasant. There were only 8 people in the back of the bus and NO animals, so it was spacious and familial. An older lady kindly passed around the homemade rolls she had not been able to sell at the market earlier that morning. We stopped at a well along the way, and the majority of passengers got out to rinse off. Upon returning to the bus, a man passed around cologne for everyone to share. The group also asked me a lot of friendly questions about my work here in East Timor.

The Baucau bus “terminal” is at the end of a long street lined with dozens of shops. Some huts sell convenience items and snack foods, others sell cheap jewelry, makeup, hair clips and bands and other knick knacks, while still other shops sell clothes. There are upper and lower end clothing shops. I began by browsing through the lower end shops which sell new or slightly used clothes that have been donated by various organizations from around the world. In each shop, hundreds of clothes are just thrown onto tables (not even folded) and it is your job to dig through them to find what you are looking for. As you can imagine, there is no “order to the madness”. For example, there are no Women’s, Men’s or Children’s sections, so of course there are no further subdivisions such as “Women’s tops” or “Men’s jeans”. It’s kind of like going to a huge garage sale. If you like a top but it’s not your size, there’s very little chance of finding another one-there’s generally only one of each type of blouse, sweater or pair of pants. If you’re not sure if something is your size, take an educated guess because there’s no dressing room, either.

In the very first shop I stopped in, I was elated to find a super comfortable brown wrap-around cardigan with a Talbot’s label! It’s not common to find clothes with tags from stores I have heard of, much less a pricey store like Talbot’s! I wasn’t really looking for cardigans or cool weather clothes, but I figured I would ask how much it was anyway. I was floored to hear the shopkeeper say it was just $2! I couldn’t pass up this fantastic deal! I also found a bright pink half button pullover sweater that would go well with a camisole underneath. It was just $1.50! After having such great success at the first shop, I was very optimistic about the rest of my shopping trip.

Unfortunately, I was unable to find another top that fit me or was appropriate for wearing to teach (which was my primary objective). I browsed through several “higher end” stores, but all of them seemed to carry the exact same merchandise. I am not sure where these shops buy their clothing, but it is clear it all comes from the same place. I find it very interesting (and disappointing) that all the clothes in these stores are either very dressy and gaudy(imagine sequined or bedazzled blouses, skirts and dresses to wear to church or a special occasion) or seem to be catered towards teenagers. There was only 1 size of every blouse-junior small. Furthermore, all the teenage blouses have kiddie cartoon characters on them! Definitely NOT appropriate for a teacher to wear! Where DO young adults in East Timor shop for clothes?

At one point while I was shopping, some teenage students eagerly approached me and started conversing with me in English. I was honestly suspicious of their friendliness and thought they might be pick pockets! It turns out they were just very excited to practice their English skills with me. I was happy to be able to help them out!

After unsuccessfully browsing through dozens of stores, I returned to a lower end store where I had seen some decent tops earlier in the day. I figured maybe I had been too picky before and if I browsed through the selection again I might just find something that could work for my needs.  I was DETERMINED to buy something. I was desperate!

I took a dozen or so blouses into the dressing room and I remember remarking to myself how quaint it was. The “door” was a simple curtain, the walls were bamboo, and there was a small, jagged edged mirror opposite the curtain.  This was the first dressing room I had seen in a lower-end store, and it was more spacious and better lit than any other dressing room I had visited all day. There was even a long wooden rod hanging from the ceiling on which to hang clothes. I officially felt like a native as I maneuvered myself around in the dressing room and tried on my clothes. Several times, tops would fall on the dirty, rocky ground. Yuck! I quickly picked them up and dusted them off.

After trying on most of the tops, I only had 1 “maybe”. That’s okay, I’d saved the best ones for last! As I pulled a red and black flowered blouse over my head, my left hand swooshed down and my pointer finger knicked the rough edge of the jagged mirror! It hadn’t hurt that badly, but I knew I had cut my finger, so I immediately drew my hand closer to my face to inspect the damage. I couldn’t believe my eyes- there was a deep S-shaped gash just below my knuckle that ran all the way across my finger! But why didn’t it hurt, and where was the blood?

I stared at my finger, DARING it to bleed. I KNEW a cut like this should bleed profusely. After a few tense moments, my finger DID begin to bleed….and it didn’t STOP! Uh oh, what should I do now?! I squeezed the two sides of the cut together and applied pressure, but to no avail. I needed something to stop the bleeding, but what could I use? The only things I had with me were the 2 sweaters I had bought (too precious to ruin) my own shirt, and the dozen shirts I was trying on. My blouse was haphazardly buttoned, but I ran out of the dressing room and asked the storekeeper standing on the other side of the shop for a tissue. Of course, I didn’t know how to say this in Tetum, so he came over to me to clarify what I had requested. I was afraid to show him my hand-what if blood made him queasy? I had no other choice, and I lifted it to show him what I needed. He played it cool, although I could tell he was very surprised. He ran over to the register to see if he had anything. Nope.

Another lady happened to be in the shop, and she suggested he rip a garment. I wasn’t sure if he was going to follow her advice. He scrambled to a table and rummaged through a pile of clothes to find a suitable “bandage”. I don’t know exactly what he was looking for (ironically, they were all pretty junky shirts he was sifting through) and I wished he would just choose one! He didn’t seem to find one he was willing to sacrifice. Back at his desk, he picked up a white, flowery blouse. Surely he wasn’t going to use this? I thought he must have given up and decided to ignore my dilemma altogether.

By this time my entire hand was covered in blood, and the blood was dripping to the dirt ground below. I was reminded of 2 things: First, I recalled all the drops of chicken blood I have seen scattered on the ground during my time here in East Timor, and secondly, I pictured Jesus’ crucifixion. I wonder how much blood there was during that? It occurred to me that if this had happened in the U.S., I could sue the store later! I snapped back to the situation at hand: What was I going to do? How was I going to change back into my clothes without getting anything of mine or the shopkeeper’s bloody? Thankfully, the shopkeeper came over with the makeshift bandage he had made from the flowered blouse. I was able to soak up and wipe off most of the blood from my hand and tie the material around my wound. I quickly returned to the dressing room to change into my own clothes, but I wondered what I should do next. Should I get treatment or keep shopping? I really needed tops! Thankfully, a voice of reason inside my head told me what to do: “No, don’t be crazy, you can’t keep shopping. You need to get help!” As I left the store, I thanked the man and handed him $2 for the ruined blouse. I only had 1 other dollar bill with me, and I needed it for the mikrolet home. Besides that, I had only $10 bills in my wallet, and I KNEW the blouse wasn’t worth that much.  I felt badly, as though I should have given him more money, but at least I gave him something, right?

Once back out on the street, my mind started racing. What should I do now?! I didn’t have a cell phone with me-why, oh WHY had I decided to leave it in Venilale? True, I haven’t used it the entire time I’ve been in East Timor, and I NEVER expected to need it today, but it’s still always good to carry. My first thought had been to call the sisters I am staying with in Venilale or my parents and ask for their advice. I realized that they didn’t know how bad my wound was and would tell me to do the most practical thing-go to the hospital. Although I wished someone could tell me what to do, I realized that even if I had a phone, I needed to make my own decision. No one could help me with this! I think I have mentioned in a previous post that I feel most alone here in East Timor on U.S. National holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. I would like to amend this statement by saying that I feel most alone when I am injured or sick. Nothing makes you grow up faster than handling a “crisis” on your own!

I recalled seeing a sign for a clinic just past the shop where I had bought my two tops earlier in the day, so I headed there. I wasn’t sure which building the clinic was, so I returned to the shop and asked the ladies working there if the clinic was open. The first one said yes, but the second one corrected her and said it didn’t open until 2. It was only 12:30!

What to do now? I could go to the Baucau hospital, but I didn’t know where it was, how to ask for directions (although I supposed that would be easy enough to figure out), or, most importantly, how I would pay for my treatment. I had brought $60 in spending money, but no credit cards. How much would this cost to treat? What if it was just a scratch and nothing serious? I didn’t want to pay for a band-aid! ON the other hand, what if it required stitches? I would prefer to have these done by someone I know in trust in Venilale. Yes, I would return to the Venilale health clinic and get treatment from Sr. Caroline. Even though Venilale was at least an hour away (depending on when the mikrolet would be leaving), I would rather be THERE around 2 p.m. than in Baucau at that time.

Even with a plan in mind, a flurry of thoughts continued to run through my head. How serious WAS my injury? Was I being foolish to try to make it back to Venilale? My finger started to throb, I was confused, unsure what to do next, angry that I had not thought to bring my phone, and I felt VERY ALONE! How had I gotten myself into this predicament? I was injured in a foreign country without a cell phone or credit card, and help was more than an hour away! This was NOT good!

I decided to stick with my original plan-I would catch a mikrolet to Venilale. My bandage was sopping with blood, so I decided to buy a washcloth to serve as an extra bandage. I stopped at the first shop I could find. They charged me a whole $1 for a cheap washcloth, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I then stopped in a convenience store to buy snacks for the trip home. I had eaten an early breakfast and I was hungry and knew I should get some fuel. It would only complicate things to be lightheaded or weak while travelling. I had stopped in this store earlier today and the woman offered me ice cream. I thought that would be a wonderful treat for the ride home, but there was no way I could eat ice cream while applying pressure to my finger. Instead, I decided it would be better if I bought a frozen orange jelly drink to use as ice for my finger. I also bought a yummy looking package of chocolate biscuits. Grand total = 65 cents!

I didn’t know the black bag my grocery items were placed in would come in so handy. I decided to stick my hand in it to hide my gory finger. I didn’t want to upset anyone with the sight of my blood. To my surprise, however, everyone who happened to see my finger didn’t seem grossed out at all. They were concerned for me, but NONE were queasy or turned away in disgust! After buying my necessary items, I was relieved to hop onto a mikrolet that was almost full (this meant we would be departing for Venilale shortly). I was happy I was able to sit in the back left hand corner of the mikrolet, across from a mom with her infant baby and 7 year old boy. They kept me entertained and calm. The lady suggested I go to the hospital in Baucau. I asked her if it was close, to which she responded affirmatively. Just then, the mikrolet started to move. I thanked her but told her I would just wait to get treatment in Venilale.

The ride home took more than an hour, but I was feeling much more calm by this point. I had prayed for the Lord to help me, and I truly believed He was with me. I was icing my finger, eating food, the bleeding was controlled, and I was on my way to get treatment. Everything was going to be okay. I shared my chocolate cookies with the little boy across from me. He was so happy!

Once I arrived in Venilale, Sr. Caroline was nowhere to be found! After searching for half an hour or so, she finally showed up at the convent. She had been on a house call visiting an elderly lady suffering from chills and a fever. More than 2 hours after I had cut my finger, I received treatment for it. Thankfully, I DIDN’T need stitches. I was interested in seeing the cut again-it stretched all the way across my finger in an S-shaped pattern. At least I’ll have a cool scar, right? Sister twisted and contorted the wound, then squeezed it together. She then applied some antiseptic solution, and I braced myself because I knew it would sting. Still, when the first drops landed in the wound, I jumped and pulled my finger away in pain. Well, at least I didn’t scream, I suppose! The second round of Betadyne was just as painful, but I willed myself not to move or let out any audible discomfort. I was really glad to get it disinfected-who knows what germs were on the mirror or the blouse I used as a makeshift bandage?

I was relieved to have been treated, but as I half expected, there wasn’t much treatment necessary. No, it hadn’t been a “life or death” situation, and I could have waited even longer to get it treated. I was now really grateful I hadn’t gone to the hospital in Baucau. They likely would have charged me an arm and a leg for a simple bandage.

My finger has improved little by little every day. The accident occurred on Saturday, but my finger didn’t stop bleeding without pressure being applied to it until Thursday. I couldn’t bend my finger all weekend, but I was able to use it to write notes for my classes Tuesday-Thursday. Washing my hands and bathing is difficult to do without getting the bandage wet, and I have decided to postpone doing my laundry for a week or two (hopefully I have enough clothes to get by in the meantime). All in all, I am thankful I am okay and that my accident wasn’t severe. However, I don’t think I will be going clothes shopping in Baucau again anytime soon! I guess I will just have to survive with the clothes I brought with me. I AM on a mission trip, after all, so maybe this is a sign I should focus more on my service and less on my appearance!

Oh, and for those of you wondering how much a shopping spree in East Timor will cost you (including unexpected emergency treatment), here is a breakdown of my Baucau shopping expenses:

   Mikrolet to Baucau = $1

   Talbot’s sweater and pink pullover = $3.50

   Makeshift blouse bandage = $2

   Makeshift washcloth bandage = $1

   Frozen drink ice pack and chocolate cookies for a snack = 65 cents

+ Mikrolet to Venilale = $1

Grand Total: $9.15 for a 2 hour bus trip, 2 sweaters, first aid and snacks. Not too shabby!

B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

It’s no secret-people here in East Timor LOVE bananas! First and foremost, they are served after every meal for “dessert” (yes, you read that right. No chocolate cake, no cookies, just fruit for dessert). Sometimes, as a special dessert treat they are mixed with diced avocadoes and sugar.

Bananas are also a staple snack food. Fried bananas are really delicious and sold at any local market (you can buy 6 for 15 cents), baked bananas dipped in oil and topped with sugar are a favorite Christmas present to give and receive, store bought snack size banana layer cake snacks are also available. A common snack at the orphanage is boiled bananas. To prepare these, bananas (with the peel) are added to boiling water for 10 minutes or so.  After peeling, they are ready to eat! I prefer plain bananas, though-boiled bananas are hard (consistency of a baked potato) and not very sweet.

Thus far, I have tasted 3 different kinds of bananas. The most common kind looks and tastes very similar to bananas sold in the U.S., but they are half the size and a little sweeter. Another kind of banana has a dark green peel, appears more diamond shaped than round, and are the typical length of bananas sold in the U.S. These are good for preparing baked or fried bananas. The third kind of banana is called a “boat banana.” They are so named because they have the largest diameter of any bananas found in East Timor (as big as a boat!). How thick are they? It is hard to grasp your hand around the circumference of one.  They have a red peel and are a little TOO sweet for me. They are not mushy, but they have the taste of a mushy banana. I have trouble finishing a whole one on my own.  

Often, patients will bring in bananas as payment for their treatment at the clinic (we ask for a 50 cent donation)! Sister Caroline and I always appreciate this healthy snack when we work long hours and we are very grateful for their kindness and generosity.

Naturally, with an abundance of bananas, legends have evolved surrounding them. For example, sometimes you will find 2 bananas that are fused together. Many Timorese people believe that if a woman eats these, she will have twins! The sisters were telling me of an elderly nun who adamantly holds to this belief and refuses to eat fused bananas even today!

Interestingly, with the creativity in incorporating bananas into so many meals and recipes, I have yet to taste banana bread, banana cream pie, banana splits (no freezers in Venilale, so this isn’t really possible) or banana pancakes. I hope to prepare banana pancakes and banana bread as special treats for the sisters sometime during my stay here. Anyone else have any banana recipe ideas? Please let me know!

Laura's Legacy

Last weekend we celebrated the commemoration of the death of Blessed Laura Vicuna. She was just 12 years old when she died. Despite her short life, Laura made her days count. One day, remembering the phrase of Jesus: “There is no one greater than the one that gives his life for his brothers," Laura decided to give her life in exchange for her mother's salvation. As time passed she became seriously ill with pulmonary tuberculosis. Before she died, Laura told her mother: “I die, because I asked Jesus two years ago; I offered my life for you, asking for the grace of your salvation. Before I die, Mother, would I have the joy of seeing you repent?” Mercedes tearfully answered: “I swear, I will do whatever you ask me! God is the witness of my promise!" Finally Laura smiled and said to her mother: "Thanks, Jesus! Thanks Mary! Goodbye, Mother! Now I die happy!" On January 22, 1904, Laura died of her disease, weakened by the physical abuse she previously received from Mora, having offered her life for the salvation of her mother. 

Here in Venilale, we celebrated this occasion with a mass (as usual) in Laura’s honor. Although I arrived at the church 15 minutes early, there were NO seats in the entire building! I should have realized that a mass in celebration of a child (soon to be) saint would be attended by every school child in the village and surrounding areas. Some students, sisters and myself brought chairs down from the school to accommodate for all the people! I have never had to bring my own chair to church before! Sporting events-yes. Church-no.

In the evening, the high school students put on a performance complete with singing, dancing and retelling the story of Laura’s life. It was a really fun time and the show lasted more than an hour and a half! Afterwards, we prayed a novena in Laura’s honor.

I am sure Laura had no idea her actions would affect not just her mother’s life, but the lives of millions of people today who remember and celebrate her shining example of a (short) life filled with love of God and neighbor. Her example shows that no act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. No life lived for God, no matter how seemingly insignificant, is ever lived in vain. 

un-BALI-vable

Dining on the beach-the perfect ending to a perfect day!

My one day in Bali was absolutely incredible! After a short one and a half hour flight from Dili, I arrived in Denpasar at 11 a.m. Two Italian sisters (one named Sr. Paola has lived in East Timor for the past 20 years) accompanied me. They were heading onto Jakarta after their stay in Bali. I was very grateful for their company. They arranged for us to board at a Salesian convent in Denpasar which was just minutes away from the airport. Sr. Paola also planned the activities for the day, which was a welcome relief for me.

We bought fruit and bread from a roadside stand on our way to the convent, and dined on sweet mangoes, tomatoes and roast beef sandwiches for lunch.

In the afternoon, one of the sisters at the convent served as our chauffer and drove us to a temple along the seashore. Although Sr. Paola speaks Tetum and a little English, whenever I asked her a question in either language, she never seemed to know what I was saying or asking. It was very frustrating! Thus, I had very limited information as to where we were going, what we were doing, how far away anything was, etc. I expected we would walk to the temple. We drove. I thought it would be a quick trip. The drive was more than 1 hour! I didn’t mind; it was a great way to see a lot of Bali in the limited time I had. I am getting pretty used to receiving very little information and being OK with that. Sometimes (or ALL the time if you live in East Timor) you just have to go with the flow.

So, how to describe Bali? It is very…oriental. Almost every building, whether it was a home, shop or business, had a thatched roof. Along our drive I saw dozens of small temples, and statues of gods and goddesses. We drove down narrow streets lined with dozens of vendors selling food, clothing, souvenirs and knick knacks. We also drove on larger streets with heavy traffic and stoplights (which are very rare in East Timor). There are more motorcycles and motorscooters on the roads than cars. They precariously weave and zig zag in and out of traffic, and bunch up in between vehicles at stoplights. Vehicle drivers must be VERY careful not to hit one of them.  I don’t know how there aren’t more accidents. Although the scooters are small, I saw families of 4 or 5 riding on some, a passenger on another scooter carrying 2 metal ladders, and a lady carrying several clear plastic bags filled with fabric. She looked like she could barely hold onto all of it!

We passed through the urban downtown of Denpasar and I saw several restaurants and furniture stores, as well as stores selling surfboards, glass and wooden crafts. I was happy to see some businesses I recognized from the United States-Circle K gas station, McDonald’s, KFC, and even an A&W Restaurant! The road on the last leg of our trip wound through rice fields, which was really very scenic.

The temple grounds were packed with tourists from all over the world, and I heard many different languages being spoken. Upon entering the temple compound, you had to walk half a mile or so to the coastline. The road downhill to the coast was packed with small souvenir shops selling “I Love Bali” t-shirts, hats, bags, magnets, stickers, etc. It was difficult for me to grasp the concept of rupiahs. How could something relatively inexpensive cost 200,000 rupiahs? I didn’t have a conversion calculator on my phone, so I was very confused as to how much everything cost. I didn’t see anything that particularly caught my eye, so, while I took a lot of pictures, I didn’t buy any souvenirs.

We reached the coastline and the view was breathtaking. There were signs warning it was “High Tide”, and the water was slamming against the rocks just a few feet from where the tourists were allowed to stand. A group of a dozen Chinese tourists tried to take a picture on a large rock, but their attempt was interrupted by a huge wave that splashed up on it-they only narrowly escaped! Interestingly, I took more photos of the cliffs, beach, rocks and ocean than I did of temple buildings. I kept wondering when we would see the temples up close. I then remembered reading previously that many temples do not allow access to tourists. This was the case here. Therefore, I got several pictures of the outside of the temples, but none from inside. Oh well, at least the scenery was really beautiful.

After exploring, we stopped in a café for refreshments. As we approached our table, I laughed when I saw some diners sipping from coconuts-this is something I had only seen on t.v., although apparently it is common among natives in East Timor as well. I was elated when Sr. Paola asked me if I would like to try some coconut myself! I eagerly agreed, not knowing that she meant I would get my very own coconut! These coconuts were huge (easily the size of a size 4 soccer ball), and I didn’t even know if I would like the taste! I had tried coconut milk at the convent in Venilale once, but it was sweetened and served in a glass.  I hesitantly took my first sip, trying to play it cool so the sisters wouldn’t know how concerned I was about liking it. The liquid was clear and was relatively tasteless. I breathed a sigh of relief-I could definitely drink this! Now I just had to worry about finishing the whole thing! I couldn’t help but smile as I sat there at the café drinking straight from a coconut along with 3 others sisters. I recalled that last year at this time I was flying to New York for my last semester of college. I never imagined that a year from then I would be soaking up the sun, exploring temples and sipping from coconuts in Bali. God is so good!

There was a fee to use the restroom, and thankfully, after drinking ALL of my coconut juice, I didn’t have to go. I did worry that I might not be able to make the long ride home, though.  We didn’t head straight back to the convent after our excursion. Instead, we stopped at a relatively plain looking restaurant with seafood displayed on its porch. I didn’t care what the place looked like-I was excited to get the chance to eat seafood! To my surprise, we were escorted through the restaurant, out the back and onto the beach! We were seated at a table just a few feet from where the waves splashed onto the shore! What a spectacular view! There was a nice island breeze and the sun was just setting. We were in paradise!

The sisters discussed what to order amongst themselves, but I had no idea what they requested. They either spoke in Italian or Indonesian, neither of which I speak. I DID hear the word calamari, and although I am not a picky eater, I REALLY don’t like that dish. I hoped we weren’t getting any of that. No one asked for my input, so I just decided to count my blessings instead of focus on the fact we might be eating something unappetizing to me.

Within a few minutes, we received spicy soup and peanuts as appetizers. I choked a little as I tried to swallow the first spicy spoonful, but managed to do so without drawing any attention to myself. Although it was spicy, it was soooo good! The shelled peanuts really complimented the soup and helped to counteract its spice.

Before long, our dinner was served. A basket of rice was brought out, along with 2 small bowls of a green vegetable (it appeared to be kanko) and a platter of fried calamari (I don’t mind calamari if it’s fried)! It looked good, but I had my doubts as to whether this would really be enough food to satisfy all 4 of us. I should have known the sisters didn’t order just 1 dish to share…they ordered 3! Promptly, two more dishes were brought out. One platter contained two very large, grilled red snapper fish, and the other platter had spicy jumbo prawns! I was so excited! Now I wondered how we would EVER manage to eat all of the food in front of us! Pineapple, melon and watermelon slices were served for dessert! Everything was absolutely delicious…Yum!

As we dined, we were treated to a spectacular sunset. At nightfall, bright fireworks shot off from nearby and flickered over the ocean before fading into the darkness. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day.

All too soon, we had eaten EVERYTHING on the table! Thoroughly stuffed, we waddled back to the car and headed to the convent. I couldn’t believe my time in Bali was already over! At least it had been a wonderful day!

DILI-gence

Happy (belated) New Year! January is here, which means the students and orphans have returned to Venilale and classes begin on Monday. I couldn’t be more excited to greet them-there’s only one problem…I’m not IN Venilale right now. Yes, once again, things here have NOT gone as I would have planned or anticipated. I was told late Tuesday evening that I would have to leave by mikrolet early Wednesday morning for a Visa interview in Dili (a 6 hour bus ride). I was summoned to Dili for a pointless Visa interview last month (it consisted of 2 questions: Where are you staying and what are you doing? Both of these questions were answered by the sister who accompanied me), so I was not too excited about returning again-especially since the orphans would be returning to Venilale on the same day I was leaving the village.

To make a long story short, at my meeting I was told I need to go to Bali for at least 1 day to complete the extended Visa application process. I cannot get any answers from anyone as to why this is, which has left me feeling more confused and isolated than ever. The good news is that I will be able to travel with a sister from Dili to Bali on January 14. The bad news is I will return on January 15. If I have to travel to another country, I wish I could at least explore it a little. Unfortunately, I must remain in Dili until my departure for Bali on Friday. I know it’s not the end of the world, but after waiting a month and a half for the students and orphans to return from vacation, I was eagerly anticipating their arrival this past week. This also means that I will miss my first week of teaching English at the high school. Interestingly, there is also a 23 year old Australian nurse named Caroline who is volunteering for 3 weeks in Venilale. I got to spend 1 week with her before I was unexpectedly called to Dili. It was very, very nice being able to speak English with someone, and I am disappointed that I can’t spend more time with her, too.

I’m sorry if this blog seems a little less upbeat than some of my other ones, but isn’t the purpose of a blog to share the GOOD and the BAD things that happen? Plus, often you can learn much more from bad experiences than from pleasant ones. Throughout my mission experience I have been praying for patience, obedience and trust in the Lord. My long stay here in Dili seems like the perfect time to practice these principles. At the beginning of my mission trip, I stated that I didn’t know why I was being sent to East Timor. I find my thoughts returning to a similar statement-why am I being forced to stay in Dili? This time, though, I am okay with not knowing the answer. I trust that God has a reason for my stay here. I might not feel very useful, and I certainly don’t feel like I need a break (on the contrary, I am ready and eager to start a new school year), but I am letting go of this need for answers and understanding and instead choosing to trust God and believe He knows what He is doing. He doesn’t ask for our input. He only asks for our willingness to follow Him.

So, while I still feel confused, I have also discovered a newfound sense of peace and contentment. Yes, I wish I was in Venilale, but I know everything is going to be okay. God’s in control, not me. My past 4 months here have shown me that God really does know what He’s doing. Even if I don’t understand His plan, I can trust it. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to hurt you. Plans to give you a hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

So what exactly have I been doing here in Dili?

Praying, drying dishes, sweeping floors, walking around the convent, sleeping and journaling mainly.

Things here in Dili have been very slow, but I have been trying to make the most of this relaxing time before things really pick up on my return to Venilale. I am trying to make lemonade out of lemons. When I was summoned to Dili, I assumed it would be an overnight trip (as my past 3 trips here have been). I asked a few sisters how long I would be staying, but none of them knew or could give me a definitive answer. To be safe, I brought along 3 shirts, but only 1 pair of jean capris and 1 pair of blue flip flops. If I had known I would be staying longer, I would have brought exercise clothes, a skirt for Sunday mass, a comb and hair gel(I only brought a brush), a book to read or study, etc.

Fortunately, I got the chance to go to a supermarket the other day. I was looking for a skirt to wear to Sunday mass and athletic shorts (neither of which I really expected to find there), and maybe a snack or two to satisfy my sweet tooth. I was so excited to get the chance to shop in a “real” store again! I walked through every single aisle, slowly browsing over the various items for sale. I was shocked to see the prices of everything here-it was all so expensive! Generally goods here in East Timor are very cheap, but here at this store (where mostly Caucasian ambassadors and diplomats were shopping), all the prices were ridiculous! A knock-off brand of Raisin Bran cereal was $12! One of my favorites, Rice Krispies, was $9. A box of cake mix was $3, a can of Seaweed flavored Pringles was $2.50, a 12 pack of Extra gum was $2.50, chocolate bars ranged from $3.50-$5, a very small bottle of shampoo was $5, a small bottle of peanut butter was $7, and small bags of gummi candies were $3. I’ll admit, I have REALLY been craving gummi candies in my 4 months here, so I begrudgingly paid the hefty sum to get my hands on a bag of some racing car-shaped gummis. They were definitely worth the money-they were delicious!

I had fun shopping around, but I still had not found a skirt to wear to church the next day or athletic shorts to walk/lounge in. As I exited the store, I saw some huts across the street, so I headed over there. At the first hut I stopped in, the clothes for sale were heaped in huge, messy piles on tables. They also had a distinct, musty smell to them. I didn’t stay very long. After browsing through a few a huts, I came upon a place that had some nice looking ladies blouses. Upon closer inspection, I found a rack of skirts and shorts. I saw a cute just-below-the knee dark gray denim skirt that said size M. The size description was clearly not very helpful in determining if it would fit. As you can imagine, in this hut that didn’t have walls, there were certainly no dressing rooms. There was no way I could chance trying the skirt on right there in the hut. Everyone was staring at the “malae”. I wasn’t sure if the skirt would fit, but it was the best thing I had seen all day and I was feeling adventurous. I bought it anyway-I was elated to hear it was only $3! What a find! I also bought some gray athletic shorts with pink trim. They were pretty ratty looking, and probably weren’t worth the $2 I paid for them, but all in all, I think paying $5 for 2 articles of clothing is a pretty good deal!

I don’t know how long I will be in Bali (it looks like it will just be an overnight trip), but I will make sure to post all about my exciting adventures next week! 

Christmas!

Please read Christmas Eve post first for continuity....

I attended 8 a.m. Christmas mass with the sisters this morning. For some reason I didn’t expect it to be crowded, but, just like last night, the place was packed! Today, however, the whole service was just an hour and a half long. I guess to make up for the fact that mass started 10 minutes early last night, mass started 20 minutes late this morning. The opening song was to the tune of “Oh Christmas Tree”. Surely they weren’t singing about a Christmas tree for the opening song of Christmas mass! They also sang Joy to the World and Gloria In Excelsis Deo, which I enjoyed hearing again. Interestingly, the light display that lit up the nativity scene in the back of the church played music that could not be turned off, so for the entire duration of the mass the congregation was serenaded to the tune of “Silent Night” playing over and over again.

Father Manuel’s homily was long-as usual-but apparently it was very good. I asked Sr. Brigida what he had said later during snack time. He referred to examples in the Bible of God showing his awesome power. Nothing is impossible for God! He also described our heart as having a door on it with no handle. This means that God can’t simply come into our hearts, we have to open the door and invite Him in. He urged us to invite the Lord into our hearts this Christmas. I was happy to note that I had already done that! She said he also told a story about some people who saw Jesus. They asked Him what gift He had brought for them. He opened his arms and said, “Me!”

After mass I decided to walk around Venilale and take pictures of the precipios. In East Timor, families do not decorate their houses with light displays. However, many families get together to build an elaborate nativity scene called a precipio. The precipio often includes a stable, the Holy Family, signs wishing passersby a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and lights that are illuminated at night to make it really shine! Families place a stereo inside the precipio and gather to eat, drink and be merry all week leading up to Christmas! Each precipio is different, but all are unique and beautiful! I found 9 on my walk on Christmas Day!

I thoroughly enjoyed my Christmas walk around the village of Venilale. I greeted everyone with warm wishes, and most people cheerfully returned my friendly greeting. Several kids joined me on different segments of my walk. They were fascinated by me, a malae. Their boisterous, happy, carefree nature and laughter was contagious and really put a sparkle in my already fantastic week.

Lunch was absolutely delicious! I entered the dining room 5 minutes early to help set up. Plate after delicious plate was dispensed from the kitchen. After each plate came out, I was sure that was all that would be served, but there was a very long line of dishes to be eaten! There was grilled chicken, pork in a spicy sauce (reminded me of Indian food I have tasted), fried calamari, a mayo/corn/peas/beans mix, spaghetti with cheese sauce, kankun, eggplant parmesan, and white rice, of course! I had a little of everything except the last 3 things.

I joined the sisters at the convent down the hill for afternoon prayer and dinner. We had a nice time together and I really enjoyed their company. After dinner we watched Christmas Day mass at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome on tv. I watched in awe as I remembered with fondness my visit there just 1 year ago! I couldn’t believe I had been there! As the camera panned out to show the interior, I was blown away by its beauty. I had actually seen that in person?! Wow, just incredible. Again, I was mystified by God’s goodness. Last year I was in Rome and had no idea where I would be a year from then. Now, here I am in East Timor. I still feel as if I must be dreaming!

I would like to close this post by listing a few similarities and differences in the Christmas celebrations here in East Timor.

1.        I have already noted my favorite East Timor celebration-the building of precipios! I even spotted a precipio right in front of the police station! Unfortunately, this would NEVER happen in 21^st century America!

2.       Yes, I am living in a community with sisters, so my viewpoint is a little biased, but there seems to be a very strong emphasis on the true reason for the Christmas season here in East Timor. Advent, the four weeks leading up to Christmas, is a very special and meaningful time of prayer and preparation for Jesus’ coming commemorated in the Catholic church. East Timorians take this season very seriously and several events are offered to help spiritually prepare oneself for Christmas Day.

a.       Novenas-In the last 9 days leading up to Christmas, novena prayer services are held in churches throughout the country. These are half an hour in length and include singing, prayer and a short Bible reading with a reflection on the passage by the priest.

b.      Retreats-the Salesian sisters hold half-day retreats at churches in nearby villages. These retreats can include lectures and discussions on various topics. One discussion was about how increasing globalization has changed the meaning of Christmas here in East Timor. The retreats end with a mass and confession.

c.       Christmas Eve and Christmas day mass-growing up, I only remember attending 1 or the other. Yes, people attend both in the U.S., but I don’t believe it is very common. Here, it is expected to attend both masses.

d.      At the church in Venilale there was only one Christmas Eve mass, but I am sure this varies depending on the size of the church. A new tradition at Christmas Eve mass for me was kissing baby Jesus!

3.       Presents may be exchanged among family members and special friends, but it is not really expected or very common. One of the sisters shared with me that children will give their godparents a special gift. Common gifts include exchanging livestock and crops. The Salesian communities exchanged baked goods with each other. Interestingly, taking family day trips to different cities in East Timor are becoming a popular Christmas traditiion.

4.       Interestingly, I saw wooden cutouts of Santa Claus’s alongside some of the precipios. People know who he is, but do not grow up believing he comes to their homes and brings them gifts. He seems to be just another decoration. The other day as I rode through Baucau I saw a man carrying a baby wearing a Santa hat! So cute!

5.       East Timorians put up decorations just a few days before Christmas. I know this varies from family to family in the United States, but growing up, my family always put out Christmas decorations right after Thanksgiving so we could enjoy seeing them for the whole month leading up to Christmas. Here, no one puts up any decorations until Christmas week! I didn’t see many decorations or Christmas paraphernalia for sale at the local market, but I did see a few strands of Christmas lights. Almost every home has a small (artificial) Christmas tree.

Whew, sorry for such long posts, but I wanted to give you all a glimpse of how truly blessed and special my Christmas was! I pray that you all had wonderful celebrations with dear family and friends as well! You were (and still are) in my prayers!

Christmas Eve

I started off my Christmas Eve day with a run up to my Psalm 23 spot. I brought my iPod along and listened to music the whole way. The sunrise over the mountain was the most magnificent I have seen in my 3 months here in East Timor. The morning had dawned warm, bright and beautiful! I laughed when “Let it Snow” came on my iPod. I changed the words to “Let it Shine”, which seemed much more appropriate.

Most of the day was spent working alongside sisters, orphans and parishioners helping to decorate the church for the Christmas services that evening and the next morning. The decorations were simple, but everyone took time and effort to make the church look its very best.

A long red carpet spanned the length of the entire center aisle of the church and completely covered the altar. Beautiful, fragrant pink, yellow and white flowers had been brought in from gardens around the Venilale area to make flower arrangements for the altar. I was told these flowers are unique to this area, and they were truly beautiful and unlike any I had ever seen before.  A large banner was hung behind the altar that read “Jesus is born today”.

Sr. Dolores and I went around the inner perimeter of the church and hung up impromptu “flower pots” made out of tall plastic water bottles out of which a hole had been cut. I wasn’t sure how these water bottle planters would turn out, but they actually looked very nice once the flowers were added. You would have had to look very closely to see the water bottle planter holding the arrangement in place.

While we decorated, a priest and several altar servers practiced their entrance procession and reviewed their roles for the mass. The choir was also practicing, and it was a real treat to hear some Christmas songs I recognized, including an Alleluia chorus, Go Tell it on the Mountain, and Joy to the World!

I was REALLY starting to feel in the Christmas spirit! These preparations for Christmas mass seemed so similar to the preparations back home! It was so neat to see that even in East Timor, people go to great strides and effort to make the church look special for Christmas. Why? Because it is a VERY BIG DEAL! I was far from home, but the meaning of the season is still the same. God is just as much with me here as he is back in Texas. In fact, I feel that in many ways I can better experience Him here without the distractions I face at home! I didn’t feel so homesick after all. I felt…joyful!

At one point, I was sitting beside jovial and always upbeat Sr. Noemia as she prepared bows. She leaned towards me and softly said, “When there are a lot of people around, I feel very shy” in Tetum.  I was very surprised to hear this. Sr. Noemia? She is always so positive, upbeat, outgoing and energetic. I never would have guessed she was so shy! She asked me if I “hanoin familia” –do you miss/are you thinking of your family?  I feel like this is a trick question. If you say no, people think you are insensitive. If you say yes, people feel badly for you. I said yes  (which was the truth) anyway. She confided that she missed hers, too. She just transferred to the Venilale convent from Dili last week, so I can understand why she might be feeling a little out of place. It had never occurred to me before this conversation that she might be feeling this way, though. It was comforting to know that I wasn’t alone in missing my family. I admit that I often forget how “human” sisters are. Surely they don’t suffer through some of the same emotions, feelings, problems and concerns that I do, right? Wrong. As it turns out, although sisters live a consecreated life, they aren’t that different from you and me after all!

Lunch was less than appetizing-2 vegetables that I have tried but do not like were being served, along with fried sardines and the staple white rice. For some reason, this drab meal really put a damper on my spirits. I imagined the honey baked ham, lasagna, ravioli, steak, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffed shells and other delicious items I would be eating if I was at home. I prayed that God would open my eyes to see how blessed I was-at least I had food to eat, which is more than many people here in East Timor and around the world can say. I felt so guilty for feeling the way I did, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I missed home!

On the plus side, the “dessert” was good. I tried passion fruit for the first time! I watched as Sr. Dolores cut hers in half, squeezed the two halves into a glass (including the black seeds), added water and sugar, and drank it. She encouraged me to try it myself. I was apprehensive, but figured I would give it a shot. It was actually very sweet and delicious! Sr. D then proceeded to eat the white inner “rind” of the passion fruit. She said it was good for your stomach. I tasted it. It was kind of bitter. I am sure it has fiber, so by “good for your stomach” the sisters probably mean it “clears you out”.

After a long day of working in the church and a less-than-appetizing lunch, I was hoping delicious food would be served for dinner. “Santa” didn’t come early- we had a pretty bland meal-fried artificial crab leg meat, white rice and some kind of diced carrot and cabbage veggie mix.

Sr. Olga informed me during dinner that mass was at 10 p.m., but you would need to be there by 8:30 to get a seat.  I figured I squeeze in pretty easily somewhere if I arrived later than that, but I showed up at the time she suggested to pray, reflect and get the whole “Christmas eve mass experience.” The church was almost empty when I arrived, but I didn’t mind getting there early. The electric organ played upbeat songs to entertain the congregation before the mass began.

Despite the weather having turned cooler, foggier and rainier this evening, by the time mass started the church was packed! As I looked around the church I saw unfamiliar, brown faces. That’s when it really struck me. God did not come just to save Americans, Caucasians, people in my church or the United States. He came to give hope and to be the Savior of the whole world! It was incredible to think that we here in East Timor were some of the first to celebrate the Christmas Eve mass around the world. It was more incredible to think that millions of people will be attending church services just like this one (in different tongues, different places, different times, different weather, different circumstances) in recognition, honor, and celebration of a tiny event that happened more than 2000 years ago. Jesus came into the world. Not just for ME, but for that man sitting in the choir, for the teenage girl in front of me, for the shepherd I met the other day on my run, for ALL of us! He gave us ALL a hope and a future! Why a manger? Because he wanted to come to OUR level, to meet us where we are.

I may have been the only Caucasian and the only person who couldn’t understand the mass, but I felt like I belonged. I was a fellow Christian, a fellow person rejoicing in Christ Our Savior being born! I wasn’t alone, I was in community with millions of Christians all over the world today and this week! I may not be with my family or participating in the usual traditions, but the real reason for the season hasn’t changed. I am still celebrating the same event. Jesus came into the world, and he is Universal. He is with me here in East Timor, in Texas or wherever I may go! God is a good God!

The door behind the choir was open, bringing a cool and refreshing breeze into the church. Unfortunately, this also swept the blanket off of the tiny baby Jesus doll on the altar by the lectionary. One of the orphan girls got up from where she was sitting on the left wing of the church and promptly placed the sheet back over Jesus. After returning to her seat, the next gust of wind blew the cloth right back off again! A small, but audible chuckle resounded through the church. Poor baby Jesus! Isn’t it bad enough he didn’t have a crib for a bed? Now he didn’t even have a blanket to keep him warm!  An elderly lady came up a few minutes later, folded the cloth in half to make it heavier, then laid it across Jesus. Problem solved.

To my surprise, we began mass at 9:50-10 minutes early. The mass seemed to go by quickly, although it ended up being just under 2 hours long. I had read the mass readings beforehand so I would have a better idea of what was being said. I was glad I had done this. The Gospel reading was from Luke and told the birth story of Jesus. I was able to follow along pretty well as the priest read it. Although I knew the story, I found that I felt a sort of joy and sense of wonder as I heard it, as if I was listening to it for the first time. Again I was reminded of how great God’s reign is. Every year I have attended mass I have heard this story in English. This year I was attending mass in a country where just about 1 million people speak the Tetum language. 

Regardless, they were all Christians, read the same Bible and believe the same things. It is just so awesome to share a common belief, hope and joy with millions of people all over the world! I hadn’t even heard of East Timor at this time last Christmas. Now I was fully immersed in a mass here! I was hearing the good news of Jesus’ birth in the gospel. Jesus transcends time, place and language. There is no barrier He can’t cross!

Although I have heard this story dozens of times, I was captivated as I listened to the priest. I listened in wonder and awe, as if this was the first time I had heard the good news of salvation. I felt like the whole church was holding its breath! Suddenly, a cell phone rang! I was shocked and a little angry! The breathless church breathed a sigh of frustration. I wondered how many people in this whole congregation even HAD phones? What was the chance of one going off literally right before the birth of Jesus was announced? Still, I quickly put this annoyance aside and listened in reverent awe to the rest of the story. Awesome, as always.

The choir sang beautifully throughout the entire mass.  After communion they sang “O Holy Night” in English! At this point in the mass, I had tears in my eyes. I didn’t know if it was because I was thinking of my family or because I felt overwhelmingly happy and peaceful. I had just finished praying, and stood up with the other sisters. The rows in front of us were still kneeling, so I got a very clear view of the choir and of the priest. When they started singing “O Holy Night” in English, I got chills! I felt as if God was speaking right to me, as if this was a gift to welcome and accept me here in Venilale, East Timor! I proudly and strongly sang along, not afraid of sounding off key. Sister Teresa asked me to please find the words in my songbook so she could sing along in English, too! I felt sooo happy! I felt like I belonged! I felt blessed!

At the end of mass, Father said the final blessing and thanked everyone who had helped to prepare for the mass this evening. A bat suddenly swooped in from somewhere in the back of the church and flew just above the congregation’s head. It zigged and zagged to and fro. I couldn’t believe that no one screamed or even flinched! I saw a couple of altar servers try to shoo it away, but there was no big commotion. These people are fearless! The bat actually ended up perching on the window right beside me just over my head! I was creeped out, but also fascinated. I got a good chance to see what a LIVE (as opposed to the dead bat the girls at the orphanage had shown me last month) bat looked like up close!

I thought the mass was over at this point. I thought wrong! The entire congregation then lined up to kiss the baby Jesus doll that had been prominently displayed on the altar. Apparently this is a Portuguese tradition. Two lines formed, and I soon discovered there were two baby Jesus dolls-one was Caucasian, and the other had brown skin. You couldn’t tell which color baby Jesus you would kiss until it was your turn in the line, but it seemed funny to me nonetheless. I was happy that I ended up in the line to kiss the brown baby Jesus-I didn’t want to appear racist.

I felt awkward and unsure as I approached the doll. I couldn’t see where everyone in front of me was kissing it. Was there a designated spot?  Unlike when I kissed the Blarney Stone last year in Ireland, there was no wet spot from the accumulation of other people’s spit that indicated where I should kiss it. When it came my turn, I saw that Jesus’ knee was bent and jutting out, so I kissed that. I think that was the right place to kiss Him. I felt awkward but relieved to be done, and proceeded back to my seat. When everyone had finished, the priest and the altars servers proceeded out of the church and the congregation followed.

To my surprise, after the service ended, the sisters all we all gathered together and we headed to the dining room! The cheerful sound of Christmas music playing from a stereo greeted us as we entered the room! There were presents brightly wrapped in red paper under the tree, and table was beautifully set with cheerful yellow placemats with a picture of a bouquet of yellow roses on it. The napkins were elegantly folded at each place setting.

We all greeted each other with a cheerful “Boafesta!” and hug. Then Sister Olga encouraged us to find our present under the tree and open it. The sisters all received Tetum faith books (they looked interesting, maybe I could borrow one and try to read through it) and I received a lovely pink, navy blue and gold patterned tais purse! The sisters are so kind to me in letting me live and eat with them-I really didn’t need anything. Still, this was SO generous and sweet of them!

After we opened presents, we sat down to feast! The table was set with dark chocolate cookies, fruit cake, a white frosted cake with raisins on top, and a bowl of oranges and apples. The beverage selection included a sweet wine from Portugal (I tried a little, but of course, I didn’t like it. I’m glad I didn’t take too much!), milk, Energen chocolate or vanilla packets (these are sort of like hot chocolate, but not as smooth or sweet), packets of cappuccino, Tiger beer, apple or grapefruit juice. Although everything tasted delicious, I was surprised to discover that my favorite thing was the fruit cake! I had never actually tried one before.

The Christmas song, “We’re simply having a wonderful Christmas time!” came on. At that moment I just felt soooo happy and joyful. Yes, I WAS having a wonderful Christmas!  I had looked forward to experiencing an East Timor Christmas, but I never imagined I would actually enjoy it. It was so cool to hear a familiar song in a new setting and not feel a twinge of longing or regret, of missing home. No, instead I was joyful. I was having a very wonderful Christmas time! Surely this song was referring to this exact moment that I was sharing with all the sisters. I could have sat at that table all night, just soaking in the joy and happiness I felt. There is nowhere else I wanted to be at that moment. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and before I knew it we were clearing the table.

I was serenaded by festive Christmas music playing from somewhere up the hill as I headed back to my room that night. It wasn’t hard to count my blessings before I turned on my iPod and listened to more Christmas music as I drifted off to sleep…

Psalm 23 Place

A few weeks ago, while out on one of my morning runs, I found the most beautiful, peaceful spot I have ever encountered. I have dubbed it my “Psalm 23 Spot” because it looks just like I have always pictured the scenery mentioned in that psalm.

The spot is located at the top of a very long, windy hill with a rocky path lined by tall trees. I had trekked up part of the hill on previous runs, but I had never had the time, energy or nerve to continue further. On a day when I was feeling particularly adventurous, I finally reached the summit. It took 30 minutes running at a quick pace to reach it, but it was well worth the effort.

As I neared the “summit”, I could see more and more sunlight around each twist and turn along the path. I kept telling myself that I would stop at the next turn, then the next turn, then the next turn, until finally I stepped into the glorious morning sunlight. The very first thing I saw was a wooden cross with a majestic mountain behind it. There were clouds surrounding the mountain, giving the rising sun that was shining through a mystical glow. It was beautiful! As I approached the cross, I could see there was a cemetery behind it filled with old, pastel-colored graves.

I continued walking another minute or so, and suddenly I had the most exquisite view of the valley and rice fields below, with towering mountains beyond that. I thought I must have reached Heaven! I’m sure I heard God whisper to me, “If you think this is AMAZING, just wait!” I have never in my life seen such a stunning view! Ahead of me I saw horses and sheep grazing on the hillside. Below, along the winding path, I could see people walking up (and eventually into town). I wondered if these people, who see this incredible view every day appreciate it as much as someone who is seeing it for the first time. Can you ever really appreciate something you have always had and known?

 I know I will never be able to describe it justly, but I pray that I can always remember it! As you can see from the photo I have included, I tried to take a picture to capture its beauty, but I am afraid no picture will ever do it justice. The glory, magnitude and sheer beauty of this place cannot be captured in a picture from a digital camera.

This past Saturday morning I decided to head up to my Psalm 23 spot and quietly reflect and pray for a while. I had a lot on my mind and wanted to sit down and try to work through some of these things. I found a fantastic spot with a great view. I sat down on a smooth rock in the glorious sunlight beside a babbling brook winding downhill. Everything seemed so peaceful, perfect and quiet.

My solitude was swiftly interrupted by the sound of laughter. Out of the corner of my eye I saw two little boys, about 8 and 4 years old, standing roughly 20 feet away from me. Their mouths were open in wonder, and they were just  gazing at me. Bliss interrupted. I shouted out a friendly, “Bondia!” and was greeted by more awed silence. I tried not to pay attention to them. I figured that after my novelty wore off, they would run off and play by themselves. I closed my eyes to try to focus and to make myself even less interesting to them.

No such luck. Once again, the silence was broken by their laughter. I soon discovered that they were playing a game in which the older boy would push the younger boy closer and closer to me, while the younger boy would try to resist. Within a few minutes, we were within a few feet of each other. My peaceful ponderings were NOT going according to plan.

How could I relax, meditate and sort through my problems with kids laughing in the background? I soon realized how ridiculous this question sounded. I recalled Jesus saying, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these (Matthew 19: 13-15). He also said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3).  These kids weren’t a nuisance, they were a solution! I believe God sent them to remind me to just relax-some things don’t need to probed, pondered and figured out. We just need to have faith like a child! Kids have tons of questions, but they are also perfectly content to just BELIEVE, embrace and accept what you teach them. They don’t need to have all the answers to believe in something. They just do. I may have lots of questions and concerns, but when it comes down to it, all I need to do is let go and let God. God is in control. He just wants me to relax, trust Him and ENJOY life (like these kids).

Yes, sometimes we just need faith like a child. These kids are living in extreme poverty, yet I bet they don’t worry about what they will be eating at their next meal. They are carefree and are enjoying my presence. Whatever problem I am dealing with can’t be as extreme or severe as malnutrition. If the good Lord is providing for their needs, surely He is taking care of me, too. The very first line of Psalm 23 says , “The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.”

I pray that the Lord’s peace be with all of you this Christmas season. May you recognize God’s love, goodness and beauty in yourself, in others and in your surroundings. May you find rest, safety, strength, and courage in the New Year. Finally, may you be daily reminded, “The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want. My cup overflows.”

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.

In green pastures you let me graze;

To safe waters you lead me;

You restore my strength.

You guide me along the right path for the sake of your name.

Even when I walk through a dark valley, I fear no harm for you are at my side;

Your rod and staff give me courage.

You set a table before me as my enemies watch;

You anoint my head with oil;

My cup overflows.

Only goodness and love will pursue me all the days of my life;

I will dwell in the house of the Lord for years to come.