Sunday, June 30, 2013

Hand Washing Clothes in the River. I'm sorry... what?!

Well, I'm not about to paint the prettiest picture of my poor husband, so allow me to get you in an empathetic mood.
Papua New Guinea is... hot. Like once it was 80 degrees, and I put on a jacket.
Papua New Guinea is humid. If you are alive, you are sweating. If you are "cold", you are sweating. Sitting under a fan, reading? Sweating. Olgeta taim! (All of the time.)
Papua New Guinea is dirty. Wet season = muddy. Dry season = dusty. Always.
You cannot get clean in a bucket shower. You may think you can get clean. But wait til you get to a real shower.
And laundry day did not come as frequently as we ran out of clothes....
So Jacob was dirty and gross and sweaty all the time. I mean, so was I but I was cool with it. The nature of the beast. Jacob did not like the beast's nature. He did not like it at all.

So one night, Martha said that she was going to get some village girls to wash the clothes first thing in the morning. Now, I left my clothes at Martha's house. That is wear I bathed. That is where the laundry got done. Why haul it back and forth? Jacob, however, didn't leave his clothes at Martha's.
So I got up and headed over to Martha's in the morning. And the girls had just finished all the laundry. It was now hanging to dry.
Brewed some coffee (in the bush there's this nice pour over system that we got so used to we didn't even notice when the coffee maker in town was broken when we got back. We just did the pour over and people stopped us demanding to know where we got coffee. "...the coffee pot?"), got a cup of granola, and sat to work on my bilum until Jacob got there.
He brought his clothes. Poor dear.
"Um..." Martha said. "They already finished the laundry."
Jacob was in a rage.
Now, if you know Jacob, you might be surprised that he is capable of a "rage". "Elizabeth," you would say, "are you sure this was Jacob? I mean, come on, who's prone to rage?" And you would be so right. No one raises an eyebrow if I start spitting fire but Jacob?
"...Honey," I start cautiously, "...you seem... really upset. What's going on?"
"I just want clean clothes!" he lamented before heading for the bathroom. (Not having one in the bush house made night ... complicated...)
"Should I get the girls to come back....?" Martha whispered to me.
"I don't know..."

I don't know how we got to the topic of me never having washed clothes in a river before but Martha was positively gleeful to send me off with a laundry and a bar of soap.

So there we stood that morning. Me thigh deep in a river and Jacob on shore putzing around. I called to him frequently to make sure he was watching out for crocodiles.

"If I get eaten washing your clothes when you were supposed to be watching for crocodiles, I will haul my crocodile mangled body out of this water to kill you," I assured him.


I did not get eaten. (Obviously.)
The water was fantastic.
Although I'm not sure the clothes got much cleaner....




Saturday, June 29, 2013

Machete Wielding Man Strikes White Woman

Background:
This one guy, we'll call him Marcus, got this girl pregnant, we'll call her Jane. Now Marcus and Jane have liked each other for a while but there was a hevi (pronounced heavy, think feud) between their families that had just gotten settled and their families didn't want to dig that up again so forbade their marriage. Jane was supposed to marry someone in another village, her going there in order to balance another marriage where the girl would come to this village in marriage. But she didn't want to go to the other village, so when she was offered betelnut (think.... chewing tobacco, but red and with lime, like lime you scrub the tub with) that came from Marcus (betelnut from a man? Probably has a spell on it. Think daterape.) So then she got pregnant. Now Marcus needs to buck up and take responsibility but he won't there's going to be a meeting of the families. 

So:
Martha wants to know whats going to happen there but can't be there herself without changing the tone. So she sends me. Because "I'm a stupid waitmeri (white woman) who doesn't know what's going on anyway." Turns out... they were right. 

It was supposed to be on my side of the village so Jacob and I went to take a nap thinking we would hear it. Well, it was on the other side of the village so when I wake and hear a distant commotion I go to check it out. It was at Fibi's house and there was a mess of people hollering and pushing and going on. Before I get too close I see Martha walking her dog back to her house. I ask her if this was the fight. (I know, stupid question) But she was so hot about the events she said nothing and kept walking. I, following my previous instructions, go and sit under the roof where I'm normally welcome at Fibi's hourse, trying to figure out what's going on. When Marcus, in a bloodlust, begins to strike the low roof, behind which I am sitting, with a machete and begins to work himself down the length of the roof, toward where I entered striking it all the way. It was now too late for me to remove myself from the setting. I try to decide if I was safer alone or mixed in with the crowd. And quickly made my way toward Fibi, who I thought would instruct me. In retrospect, everyone was so consumed by the happenings I don't think anyone noticed I was there. Beside me was a ladder up to the house. But I didn't think I was allowed up there. A cultural faux pas. In the future, I promise, I will chance a cultural faux pas before chancing physical harm. Marcus turns around the roof, coming in where I had, swinging his machete back and forth in blind rage. He got to where was I and try as I might to sink into the background I was smack solidly with the flat of the machete across my inner thigh. He kept walking. I was shocked! I mean, I was a white woman. Which is kind of a deal. Furthermore, I was a guest to their village and if I had bled! Shame upon shame! But he was so blind with rage he didn't care about anything. And neither should have I. I should have climbed the ladder. 
When he had passed and the thundering of blood and adrenaline had cleared my ears, I began to hear Martha screaming. Doubled over at the waist, screaming my name. I rush to her and she was belhat (think enraged, a fire in her belly was burning hot with a fury). 
"Couldn't you hear me!" she demanded.
"No ma'am! I couldn't hear anything!" Luckily we're both from Georgia and she didn't take my ma'am-ing as an insult but rather submission and obedience like I meant it. 
We walked her dog for a while more as she calmed herself. And I told her I got hit. She was ... displeased. 
Walking back, we past Marcus, stalking back to his house. 
"Is God in your heart or Satan?!" Martha scolded him. 
"Satan!" he spit back, without breaking stride. 

Later Jacob woke from his nap and walked into Martha's house where I was wokim bilum (making a bag). 
"Hi, honey! I got hit with a machete!"
"... what?"
Jacob looked at Martha who glared at the situation. 
He groaned as he sat to listen to the story as I have told it here.


A Terrible Missionary

Ok. So I was in the Grand Canyon for two days and wrote 5 posts. I was in Papua New Guinea for 2 months and also wrote 5 posts. I feel like a terrible missionary. Allow me to first make an excuse, and then remedy that lapse.

  1. Missions are stressful in the best of times. Traumatic at the worst. There and returning my head was an indescribable swirl of grey matter. My intention, I believe (it's hard to be sure when your brain looks like a tornado), was to chill, collect my thoughts, and then spew forth incredible stories for your reading pleasure. But considering that we hear approximately... NOTHING from me from November thru May, it becomes evident that classes, while less traumatic, were no cake walk. Lucky for you, I will not be posting anything about my classes as the finer points of Language Documentation and Discourse Analysis ... well, if you're into that, you already know, and if you're not, you don't want to know. So now in my efforts to remedy my mistake I get up to search for my journal. Alas, left in PNG. (What? It was heavy. And I have to bring it back to continue filling it with PNG tales. I might have overestimated my ability or desire to fill a journal.....) Instead, you will get to enjoy the randomness as I remember it!
  2. Posted:
    In Transit
    The Big Fight on the Very Stressful Day
    Fishing (Rereading the beginning of this is funny. Right now Jacob is at work, I'm looking at 300 pictures, sipping coffee, with plenty of time. ... .... I miss Tim Tams...)
    Where Magic is Real... and Scary
    NEW: Machete Wielding Man Strikes White Woman
    NEW: Hand Washing Clothes in the River. I'm sorry... what?!

    To be posted:
    Tip: Do Not Vomit in Tropical Ulcers
    Godzilla at the Airport
    Xanax is by Bestfriend
    Bob
    Snorkeling
    Making Bread
    Attacked by a Piglet
    Never give Balloons
    Washing Feet. Bloody Feet. I Hate Feet
    The Very Wet Night
    Teaching on Sunday
    Demon Possessed?
    The Menagerie
    The Medical Course
    The Day Martha Almost Got Me Eaten
    Cleaning out the Literacy Building
    Halloween
    Sending out Scripture
    The Expanse
    Note: These are thoughts in my head. They may or may not be worth a full blog post. We shall see.

Friday, June 28, 2013

Camping at Jacob Lake Campgrounds, The Grand Canyon

Ok. So we went camping "in the Grand Canyon". Or at least, that's what I had asked for. Turns out it was an hour away from the North Rim.... whatever.

I love camping. We used to go all the time as a kid. My dad loved to choose the worst weekend of the year to do it. We would load up the van with camping gear and head out to Seashore State Park, or First Landing as it's now known. It would be raining like crazy. So tarps would be hoisted to keep our campground some definition of dry and my sister or I would need to maintain the campfire, which, of course, was not under the tarp. So that was fun. Dad said it was called "roughing it". He also said that we liked it and so we did. And we would sit and stare at flickering flames and listening to the rhythm of the rain as we spoke long into the night. So the idea of camping had me STOKED.


So, we're chilling in this "evergreen forest". (I feel like I was provided with much false information on this trip...) And our campsite was HUGE! And we could see RVs 10 campsites away... So much for that forest...
Our tent was formerly Jacob's brothers boy scouting tent and Jacob said it would be too small for the both of us. He was wrong. It was too small for one of us. The problem was not in the width. It was the length. Four more inches was all we needed. But no. Jacob spent the second night under the stars. I foolishly believed his absence would change the length of the tent.
Our time at the campsite was spent on a blanket with our sleeping bags (Apparently it gets cold in the desert...), reading. Otherwise, we were at our campfire, roasting hot dogs and burning pine cones.

With the exception of the too small tent, freeze nights, fire ban (turns out patience isn't a virtue. Stuff your face with s'mores while you have the chance!), lack of showers, and lack of foliage and consequential privacy, Jacob Lake Campground was lovely. Across the street there was a gas station, gift shop, and restaurant, all very convenient, with helpful staff with the exception of our waitress, with whom I was beyond frustrated and left her a measly 10% tip! (Hey, she's still got to pay rent even if I didn't like her or her service.) The campground itself was very quiet. Park staff rode around on golf carts keeping an eye on things, answering questions, and warning you to put out your fire before you get an $1000 fine. (No one told us there was a burn ban.) Also, their latrines were surprisingly nice.

We didn't get to sleep in the Grand Canyon but the alternative was nice.

10 Reasons I Hate The Desert

I hate the desert. I've traveled through the desert to Vegas and Arizona before but it was this last trip that really set the hated of the desert for me. Why? I have 10 very valid reasons for my great lack of appreciation.


  1. It is ugly. Yes there is some degree of beauty. For like, a minute. Afterward the vast expanse of rock and scraggly plant life begins to look just like what Hollywood depicts the world as after it's been destroyed and the survivors become scavengers trying to live off the cruel terrain. 
  2. It's dead. I mean not totally but in some places, totally. 
  3. The plants are mean. The things that do grow there look mean. Angry, thorny, gnarly things deformed to match the ugliness of their black hearts. And there's jumping cacti and, really, under no circumstance should I be assaulted by vegetation. 
  4. When it's not flat, it's cliffs of death. And never can you be just chillin' by a cliff of death. Oh no. You must be making a treacherous turn. Too far one way, you slam into the face of rock! Too far the other way, you drop! And when there's two way traffic!!! As if you aren't concerned enough with your own ability to navigate these turns, you have to trust other people not to kill you! Rule #1 of Driving: Do NOT trust other drivers!
  5. There are, like, no trees. Goes hand in hand with things above but really, the beautiful Appalachian Mountains of my country have trees. So if you go off the side of a mountain, you don't die, the trees embrace you with their warm arms and keep you from plummeting to ground very very far away. Jacob tried to tell me that trees weren't that awesome until we went into a valley and the bottom of the mountain had trees. It was glorious. Deep, mysterious, beckoning. Then we got past them and the world looked like the surface of Mars again.  
  6. Burn Bans. Ok. What is this? "Burn Ban" psh. You can't have a fire, at your campsite, in a huge metal barrel. WHAT IS THERE TO BURN?!?!? If the entire place goes up in flames will it look that much different!??!??! I DIDN'T GET S'MORES, PEOPLE! NO S'MORES WERE HAD AND I WAS CAMPING!
  7. It was cold. The desert was cold. Listen, I have no problem with the heat. When it hit 100, I wasn't complaining! (Although I did like those little mister things around the Starbucks patios...) But the desert has NO BUSINESS being cold! It's a desert. I feel like it needs to be hot by definition! I hate the cold! 
  8. There's no cell service. "Oh your car broke down in the middle of nowhere? And you forgot to buy water at the last gas station because you didn't realize the desert is the devil's land? LOL. Have fun walking under the unforgiving rays of the sun on your "refreshing Coca Cola!" It's 100 miles to the next town. HAHAHHAA. dead."
  9. I saw no elk. The one thing I was excited about on those absurdly dull and endless hours driving through the desert (please imagine that I am spitting this word out with disgust.) I was promised elk and there were none to be seen! I saw signs for buffalo; there was buffalo. I saw signs for deer; there were deer. I saw signs for cows; there were cows. But when the sign said "Hey Elizabeth, you're going to see elk now! Watch for them!" ONLY LIES!
  10. It's dry. I'm from the oceanfront. THE OCEANFRONT! I NEED WATER IN THE AIR! My skin has grown accustom to it! I prefer there to be so much water in the air that Spongebob going to the beach makes sense to me! My skin was dry! I didn't even know what was happening at first... Lost, scared, confused = my desert experience. 
Luckily for me. I am going to Papua New Guinea, where it's beautiful and fertile and the plants are beautiful and the terrain is dynamic and there are an abundance of trees and there are no silly burn bans and cold is defined at 78 degrees and there's cell phone service and the animals they tell me to watch for are actually there and its wet. Ah, Papua New Guinea, the Land of the Unexpected, how you call to my soul! How you and I were selected for one another by a great and all-knowing God who knew how much we would love each other. Soon, my dear, soon we will be reunited again!
Death and Rocks

Beautiful Arial View of PNG

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Preach Purity Prematurely

from the mouth of pretty-recently-a-teen

"What's sex?"
I was eight years old. My mom and I were in the car pulling into the Rack n' Sack parking lot, which was this dingy grocery store that saved money by not stacking items on the shelves so it was like walking into the back of a normal grocery store. I remember that she stiffened and took a deep breath.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to!" I quickly amended. I knew whatever my classmates were talking about in school was meant to be whispered away from teachers.
But with resolve she said, "No. If you're old enough to ask, you're old enough to know."
(I didn't see until typing this right now how far opposite this is with what I'm preparing to say. Considering my mother's circumstance, she raised me better than I think anyone would have anticipated. I mean, I'm the rebel child and I'm going to be a missionary so.... She also raised me to be a discerning person with my own opinions so hopefully she won't feel too hurt that I disagree. But we'll get to that).
And after bracing herself. She told me. About how reproduction works.
Kids remember stuff. And things they hear when they are small, they carry with them and often come to strongly believe or not question ever. Conversations with my father, quoting his past teachings, has proven how very careful you should be when speaking as children often take words at face value. So this incomplete idea of sex later did me a great disservice.
When my mother later told me that Jesus didn't want me to have sex until I was married, the definition I had heard years earlier was the definition I applied. The word was not further discussed.
It's an awkward subject. I know it is. My husband cringes of the idea of having the talk with children that haven't even been conceived yet. So that she didn't want to get into is understandable. And I as a teenager didn't want to hear it. But it really really really needs to be done.
Now, all of my sins and shortcomings are 100% my fault. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my mother did NOT want me doing the things I had been doing. But I honestly thought, at least at first, that Jesus didn't have a problem with it. Because it wasn't sex.
But we know, (now) we all know, (hopefully) that it's about more than sex. It's about purity.

Parents, teenagers do this crazy thing. They stop listening to you and they start listening to their friends. This isn't something that should wait until they hear it at school and start asking questions or turn to friends who are like, kids, what do they know? You are their parent. You have been there and done that. And you know way more than their friends think they know. You need to share that wisdom before they stop listening. Puberty is too late to start talking to them about purity. More than purity, teach them modesty and teach them how they should be treated by men. Because unless you have raised AMAZING children (and if so please message me and tell me how be just like you), your words will fall on deaf ears.

My mom taught me about modesty at a young age. And that's a lesson that stuck. In grocery stores, I would look at a magazine and say how pretty a woman was. "Yes, she's pretty. But not a nice pretty." My mother said referring to her skimpy attire. "Look at this girl. She's pretty too, isn't she?" "Yes!" "And she how she's pretty without showing all her body? That's a nice pretty." Today I walked outside with a spaghetti strap shirt. I was in a rush and thought I was wearing a sleeveless shrug over it. I remember thinking "!!!! My mother raised me better than this!!!" (Not to say that spaghetti straps are skanky. But I'm already breaking mommy's rules wearing tank tops, much to her dismay...) But as high as her standards are, my sleeves will never (except for today) be thinner than an inch, my shorts will never be but an inch shorter than mid-thigh (I buy size 13 and they sit on my hips), and my skirts will never be as short as mid-thigh. (Again my mother is aghast and even at 21 I have bought clothes in defiance. It's the rebel in me! "A skirt three inched above the knee! Take that, Mom!") (Can we applaud my mother's parenting here?  I mean, well done.)

A lesson I missed out on was how women should be treated. This needs to be modeled. A LOT. And if you have a broken home, that is not going to happen. Even with my father remarried, I didn't get to see this A LOT. I can imagine that being divorced is... I can't imagine. I can't imagine even being a child of divorce. But your kid needs to see a healthy marriage modeled if they hope to have one! And, oh my gosh, start before it's too late! Before they start dating and start unhealthy relationships. Find a healthy married couple and beg them, pay them! to incorporate your kid into their lives. For sleepovers and family outings and more. So they can see A LOT of modeling. So that they know if a guy interrupts you to ask why they should care about your story, that guy is a jerk. So that they know if a guy pressures them and makes them uncomfortable, that guy is a jerk. So that they know if they aren't radiating the joy they see in the model wife's face, the guy they're dating is a jerk. When the media tells them that true love overcomes obstacles, have a real couple show them how and show them what obstacles aren't worth sticking with a guy (who they're not married to) "true love" or otherwise. But you have to show them when they're young enough to listen. Because when they, when I was in a relationship with a deadbeat dude, I was far too "in love" to hear a word against it. I dated guys who told me they didn't care about what I was saying. I dated guys who wouldn't commit so they could sleep around (I wouldn't have sex). I dated drunkards and potheads and wanna-be gangstas. My skirts weren't too short but my standards were.

And from a young age, when they're still memorizing and internalizing every word that drops off your tongue, teach them about purity. Not about dirtiness. Don't make them feel dirty if they mess up. If Jesus can wash our sins white as snow, I believe He can handle our bodies. But teach them about baggage. Guide them to fall in love with their husband before they know him. And teach them about baggage and what that can do. Baggage has you laying in bed with your husband while your traitorous heart and mind is reminded of someone else. Baggage has you not telling your husband about stories from your past because he doesn't want to hear about someone else touching your heart or anything else, anything else that is supposed to be his and his alone. Baggage is despicable and old and gross and full of regret and never seems to go away. So, please, please, teach your child when they're young enough to listen. Before they go finding baggage and putting their name on it.

This has been on my heart, I guess. I miss working with teenage girls. And I remember all too well their struggles in dating. But it was too late. They were already brainwashed, like I was, in a society driven by finding value in your relationships with men. You didn't not date. Only losers didn't date. Which of course made those who struggled to find a man all that more willing to stay in a crappy relationship so they wouldn't be alone again. Please, please, teaches these girls, whom I love so much, without even knowing them all my heart breaks for them and the pain I know they'll have, teach them while they'll still listen.



Saturday, June 22, 2013

(Barely) Surviving the Grand Canyon

I did some reading before we left, and there's pretty much no good sources on the entirety of the internet about hiking in the Grand Canyon (that I could find before I left. After I got back the internet was all "Here let me show you everything you now know!"). But what I did find was some posts about how the North Kaibab Trail from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon to the Roaring Springs is a day hike for an "experienced hiker". Now, if you're like me, you may be wondering what an experienced hiker looks like. I mean, I'm not some rotund tourist! I'm a healthy individual who has gone on some pretty long hikes in the jungles of Papua New Guinea! I can walk for, like, ever. This being the case, I was pretty sure that I could handle some measly 9 mile hike (round-trip).
I was wrong.
Very wrong.
We started our hike off with energy and enthusiasm! Downhill... I was going great! Even Jacob confessed that I was putting him and his sore legs to shame. I fell twice, scraping my knees. Jacob wanted to do first aid, but I brushed it and the dirt off and kept going. Just a flesh wound! When blisters started appearing, I put on some band-aids and persevered! After 3 hours, we got to the bottom, down to Roaring Springs!
We planned to stay there until the heat of the day had passed. But try as I might, I couldn't nap and I became more and more anxious that I wouldn't be able to make it up the canyon swiftly. A very very valid concern as I was soon to find out.
So at 12:30, we headed up. And it soon became very very apparent that the Canyon was going to try to kill me. I would walk 100 paces on a shady level path before I had to stop and rest. And the sunny steep parts were much much worse.
There are various segments of the trip. Going down: A very steep white sandy path until the natural tunnel. There water and bathrooms can be found. Afterwards is the walk to the bridge, less steep but, I mean, we're still in a canyon. After the bridge, walking on the west side of the canyon, there's a not very steep at all stretch (not exceptionally steep, but still in the Grand Canyon) and then you see the waterfall. Beautiful and back to pretty steep until you get to the bottom.
It was in that first stretch back up that I told Jacob I was going to die in that Canyon. Jacob took my jesting as a sign that I was still doing all right. A sign that would soon disappear.
After the waterfall was out of sight, I told Jacob that when we got out of this stupid canyon, I was going to have a nice long cry. I overestimated not only my ability as a hiker, but my ability to keep it together. By the time we got to the bridge, I had ran out of water in my camelback. Jacob still had some in his and I had a waterbottle but we were low and the tunnel was still a ways off. It was about here I started crying. Intermittently. I would get to the end of a switchback, look up, and sob at the loathsome angle of the next stretch. The jokes that Jacob made fell on humorless ears; my face was too tired to smile. My pack was unloaded and moved to fill Jacob's. Long. Slow. Hot. Finally we reached water. Jacob had intended for us to sit and rest but I wanted out of that horrible canyon and now! So we went on. We stopped very frequently, every several paces, to rest. By this point even Jacob needed it. The stops were regular but short, as the need to be out of the canyon was stronger than our weariness. We were so broken by the canyon that even when we saw the end of the trail, even when it was looming just before us, we needed to stop again to rest. 6 hours. 6 hours it took to get from the bottom up.
Now what little the internet told me said it should be a 6-8 hour hike total. So our 9 hour time was pathetic. Although had I actually rested for 4 solid hours like I was supposed to, the trek might have been a bit easier. We will never know. Because I will never ever do that again.
Two full days later, I am still sore all over.
About 2 hours into the ascent. 

Jacob googled the trail after we got out and his searches said "very steep" "most difficult of maintained trails" "difficulty level: difficult" so maybe I should feel good about it after all. Since, you know, apparently I'm not an experienced hiker....

Have you hiked in the Grand Canyon? Have you any near death hiking tales? I'd love to hear your comments!

Great vs. Good

The trip to the Grand Canyon was a great trip. It reminded me of my first trip to PNG. It, too, was a great trip. A miserable trip full of aches, pains, tears, sweat, and blood. But a great trip nonetheless.
I feel like there's an important difference between good and great.
Like God. God is great. And God is good. And this isn't redundancy.
God is great in that He is almighty, creator, king, eternal, all-knowing, etc.
God is good in that He is just, loving, merciful, generous, faithful, etc.
Great vs. Good.
So this trip and the internship were great as in I learned so much from them and they were legendary experiences.
They were not good trips which would be to say that I had so much fun, and I was so relaxed, and all my dreams came true.
Oh no.
I went to the Grand Canyon and I learned a lot of lessons.
Learning life lessons isn't really fun.
I learned about myself. I learned about my marriage. And I learned about the Grand Canyon.
Too much to write in one post. Others will be forthcoming. (My overarching experience) But I think it suffices to say:
We hiked from the top of the North Rim of the Grand Canyon down to the bottom and back in a day (Well, the bottom of the section we were at, I'm sure there are areas closer to sea level than we were...).
Checked that off the bucket list!

What great trips have you had where the word "good" wasn't applicable? What have you checked off your bucket list recently? I'd love to hear your comments!

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Our PD Trip - Surprise '13

Presently we're in Surprise, AZ! This is my third time being in the area. That one time, 2 years ago, that I traveled across the country, making connections, has made some great friends and supporters that we take the time to catch up with annually.
After the PNG lunch in Dallas as a part of PMI, Jacob and I hit the road. I drove 17 hours straight, arriving in Arizona at 4am. Between that time and our scheduled 1 pm lunch with a supporter, I slept about 2 hours total. Jacob slept for 6. His ability to sleep where ever when ever is enviable.
Our lunch was fantastic. It was so good to see them again and it was Jacob's first time meeting them! Afterwards, we were able to visit Just Church, my local contact's church plant. During second service we were able to serve in the nursery. As my local contact was formerly the children's minister at Forefront, who I served under while there, the children's ministry is the first place my services are utilized.
Following church, Jacob went to help a family move while I went home to get the sleep I had been missing since 9:30am the preceding morning. At 7:30, I went to sleep and, at 7:30, I woke up. 12 solid hours of beautiful sleep in a magnificent bed. 12 solid hour the world's lightest sleeper slept in a twin size bed with her husband. Dead to the world.
This morning we had planned on going to CCV to see if we could bump into another old friend I had been unable to get a hold of. However, in the year since I had last seen him, he began working at Just Church! And so there were no demands on our morning.
Instead we headed off to Starbucks. I finished an article that's due date was imminent (I work as a professional blogger, often as a ghostwriter) and Jacob finished a newsletter! As Jacob and I both write professionally and have personal blogs to maintain and Jacob is going to start writing soon (see his search for a hobby), our time at Starbucks did not conclude with those tasks. Rather we switched locations at lunch to Pei Wei, resuming writing while there, and returned to Starbucks for more quality time with computers and coffee. The subsequent time in the area will be spent in a similar fashion and hopefully punctuated by get togethers with friends who haven't yet set a time.
This is a pretty rainbow we saw on our drive. 

4 Reasons Why My Supporters Want Me To Go On Vacation


I'm going on vacation soon! We'll be camping at the Grand Canyon for three nights and plan on going hiking while we're there. We're super excited to get away from our laptops and demands on our time and just spend time together enjoying the magnificence of God painted on the face of Grand Canyon.

But my mom is VERY concerned that if I tell people about my vacation that it will ... I don't know... bother them. I guess she coming from a place of "I'm supporting you, giving you money, so you can do Bible Translation, not so you can go on vacation." And I guess that's a reasonable first reaction. But there are some secondary thoughts that have many of my partners stoked to hear I'm going on vacation.

Partners support my work because they want to see the Bible get translated in Papua New Guinea. Vacations do a lot to that end.

  • The number one reason missionaries leave the field is team conflict.
    My main team member, the one I'll be spending pretty much all my time with, is my husband. I heard a sermon by Vince Antonucci saying that a key to a healthy marriage is a daily time, weekly date, and annual get away. So investing in a vacation is not only investing in my team relationship but my marriage. If this relationship starts to go downhill, one of the first steps to fixing it will be leaving the field. 
  • Another major reason people leave the field is burn out.
    I'm tired. Like really tired. The semester has been killer and I can't just keep moving like this. But it's hard to just rest when my laptop is sitting right there. So we're going to step away from technology. (I heard wi-fi is hard to get in the Grand Canyon). As much as I feel this way now, the feeling will be even greater when in the jungle. Developing a habit when it's easy to will be beyond beneficial when burn out is an even greater threat and knowing when to take a break becomes essential. Sometimes you need to get away so you can stay longer. 

To address the use of funds:
  • I'm cheap. Like, super cheap. My four day vacation is $64. Camping is cheap. Any supplies that have been purchase were also necessary for bush living and their weights for transportation were considered, because I don't want to buy something twice or pay much to transport it. (i.e. Keens, water filter, water bottle (We left our Keens in PNG when we were there since we figured they would probably break during a term and we would need more. Leaving them there, buying new ones and bringing those over next time was the least expensive solution!) The trip there will be a slight detour off my Partnership Development trip to Phoenix. We picked this location because we would already be over there. I am a penny pincher!  
  • Included in my budget is both work expenses and salary. Our salary is like $20,000. We live frugally and budget in a vacation because we know how important it is to our longevity on the field. Supporters come on knowing that they are funding both work expense and salary. But presently, at our current level of support, that money goes exclusively to training, work expenses (like PD trips or promotional literature printing), and whatever's left helps with rent and food. Both Jacob and I are presently working other jobs to supplement our income. We are generating so much extra income that we don't withdraw all of the support we receive and are slowly saving money to be used for fund-raising trips and eventually start-up costs of our move to PNG. 

So we're going on vacation. To the Grand Canyon. From Tuesday to Friday. And we're super stoked about it. And we hope you are too! If you're not, we hope that you'll prayerfully consider these reasons why other supporters are for it. We want you to be pleased with the way we handle the money entrusted to us and we don't want to be the sort of missionaries who don't talk about things they do for fear it will offend their supporters. We want to share our lives openly, and honestly, and entirely. So... yeah.... there it is. Our vacation plans. Pictures to follow. 


Sunday, June 9, 2013

My Summer Reading List

I LOVE to read. When I was younger, my mother would feel the need to come in my room every few hours to make sure that I was still alive. Her intrusions weren't well received.... She was interrupting some really major stuff! And then I was going to have to stop and restart and then I would starts seeing words again and sometimes it takes a few minutes for the words to go away and the book to consume. (To avid book readers the previous statement is quite sensical!)  She threw off my groove!

Anyway, as always, school makes pleasure reading a twinkling star, beautiful, entrancing, but so far away, so out of reach.

But school is out!!!
And I intend to spend the summer hunched over fantastic books! (And the fall semester visiting a chiropractor.)

So here are the books I plan on reading:
(Note: I am NOT recommending these books! I have not read them. I don't know if they're good or appropriate or anything!)

  •  Rain on Your Wedding Day - finished reading it. Super good. Sad. But the last line is all "It's a sad story..." "The world needs sad stories." Beautiful, am I right?
  • The Green Ticket - Currently reading. Update 6/14: A story about choosing between whats right and money. The antagonist is in the adult industry and is promiscuous. While there are no steamy scenes and his behavior is viewed as despicable, this might not be a novel for a younger reader. 
  • The Bell Jar - I read this book in 2008. But it's come time to read it again. I have pretty much no memory of the book. So... definitely time.
  • The Locket - I'm apprehensive about this one. Mystical fiction has become so popular that a lot of it is fluff. The synopsis makes it look like a Narnia kinda thing. Hopefully it's awesome. Update 6/23: A childrens/youth fiction of a girl who finds herself in another world and must save the day. Strong motifs of freedom, women's freedom, freedom in choosing, and freedom from grief. 
  • In the Shadow of Lions - A Boleyn Novel. I read the Other Boleyn Girl and it was good. Hopefully this will be too. I really love the fantasy fiction with horses and carriages and noble households. This is, like, half of that!
  • The Emperor of Paris - I've got nothing. It looks like a book set in Paris. We'll see. 
  • The Taming - The cover looks risque. But it's by a youth author... I love youth books! They're enchanting while avoiding sexual encounters with their characters. Maybe some romance, maybe some intimacy, but nothing steamy. There's nothing I hate more than getting interested in a book and coming across something that makes it unreadable. 
  • Wonder - A story about an ugly kid who goes to school. "You'll laugh and you'll cry!" We shall see.
Ok, books I have read and do recommend:

 Epic 
Apocalyptic 
  • The Hunger Games - Before letting your children read books about how children aggressively and brutally murder each other for the amusement of others, read it first and do a chapter by chapter discussion to pull out those beautiful values of love, sacrifice, and rebellion. 
  • The Uglies - People undergo plastic surgery to make themselves pretty. They cut their brain in the process so they won't rise up. 
  • The Giver - the oldest in this genre are the best!
  • 1984 - another old one.
  • Divergent - To make you happy again when you finish the Hunger Games Trilogy. 
Realistic 
  • 13 Little Blue Envelopes - Finds a package of letters from dead aunt. Letter bring her on an adventure to Europe. 
  • Stupid and Contagious - I LOVE this book. A little bit of sexual content but more talking about it in a hilarious stitches in your side kind of way as opposed to the steamy sort. 
Youth 
  • HARRY POTTER - I walked out of the movie theater after watching the 8th movie and in doing so I walked out of my childhood. 
  • Mister Monday - Pretty Good. Pretty Good. 
  • Pendragon - A fun series! There's this one line, when the Queen slapped his face and cried because he hurt her hard and he's all "I'm sorry I hit your hand with MY FACE!" lol!
  • Artemis Fowl - This book is so good. Also, it has this fairy language, well orthography with a one to one ratio with the characters in the Alphabet. Anyway, every page has some at the bottom. I deciphered it and translated the mini-story at the bottom when I was 11. Translation started early in my life....
Book recommendations are welcome! Have you read any of these? What did you think? What books have you read this summer? And what books do you insist others should try?

Saturday, June 8, 2013

How This Last Semester will Affect My Daily Life in PNG

I am productive at all times of the day!
...I'm just more productively productive in the morning.
And "morning" should be redefined for this post...

In the morning, I get on my computer. My amazing husband starts brewing coffee. During this time, homework and blogging takes place. (I blog for people and they pay me for it. It's a sweet gig.) The MOMENT that anything else happens, morning is over.

The car breaks down and I have to deal with that. Over.
I have a morning coffee appointment. Over.
I have to work in the library. After that work, over.
I eat. Over.
(The word "over" starts to look funny when you type it a bunch. I will abstain from doing so.)

After this, I can do other things. TONS of other things. Just not VERY productively and often not financially beneficial.
I can clean out my inbox.
I can personal blog.
I can craft. (My most recent crafts have been gifts so that's ... you know... purposeful.)
I can read.
I can clean. (If it can be done while watching TV. Which is fine since the room in most desperate need of cleaning is the room my computer is in, since, well, I live in this room. Jacob cleans the kitchen. and I bring the laundry in here.)
I can do work for PBT. (Out of place, I know. But I really like working for PBT...)

So things I don't really want to do. Morning. Before I'm awake enough to rebel against obligations.

The Rule Breaker: When I'm held accountable. So, getting together with a group of people FOR THE SAKE of working.
Working at the restaurant (I just walked in there again. Everyone was like "I haven't seen you in FOREVER!" I was all, "Honey. I've quit." "Good call.")
Afternoon classes.
Evening Greek Study Sessions. (Based on the commitment level of the others present...)
Deadlines.

Consequently,
I need to place the stuff I need to get done on my own at the front of the day. And everything else later.
I foresee wanting to do homeschooling first thing. (A missionary told me her son liked to finish his work ASAP so he could go play with his friends.)
I intend to schedule checking sessions with the national translators in the afternoon since, if they're coming, not only MUST I be productive, but also I MUST be prepared.
It's hard to say what things I won't want to do and so must place in the morning. I would say the boring data entry or what I did for homework in Greek and Discourse Analysis but when in PNG and doing such things I just really love doing it....
I'm sure there will be something I don't want to do and now I have a spot in my schedule carved out for it, ready for my unproductive tendencies. But when I try to put my finger on it, I just get super excited about the career I have before me. An excitement which, counter-intuitively, I need to squish.

I have a calling. I'm very lucky like that. Most people don't know what they want to do with their lives, but here I am, 23 years old, with a goal I've been chasing FOR 7 YEARS! By the time I get to the village I will have been working toward this for 10 years. A DECADE! 40% of my life. You see, despite this calling, this epic adventure that God has invited me to be a part of, I've been watching years go by chilling in Dallas. Living in Dallas is not epic. It's hard to be a part of something as dull as my present life when I'm supposed to be elsewhere. And the more I think of what's ahead, the most difficult to bear is my current circumstances. You think about it a little bit to keep you moving forward because these steps have purpose. But just a little bit. Otherwise depression sets in and you start screaming about how boring your life is and then you curl up into a burrito. I've been there.
But the fact of the matter is that taking classes in Dallas is very boring compared to hiking through the jungles, leading Bible studies, getting caught up in fights and subsequently hit with a machete, flying in a helicopter, translating the Bible, going snorkeling, developing literacy materials, and bathing in a river while constantly watching for crocodiles.
And it's not like I can even get involved in something worthwhile here! When I'm not swamped with school work, I try to travel as much as possible to raise support so that when we can go, we can GO! Such a short term and preoccupied schedule doesn't work well with mentoring middle schoolers. (That's kinda my thing. Teaching kids how to incorporate the Bible in their daily lives. WOW! That's like half of my job description! I just noticed that! But... I mean... Scripture Impact.... It's kinda my thing. Hahaha). Yeah, so that's lame.

But here I am, keeping on keeping on. I just have one more semester. Just one more semester.....


Sunday, June 2, 2013

The Ugly Making of my Exegetical Paper

So I just finished my exegetical paper for my New Testament Exegesis class on Revelation 4-5. If you don't know what an exegetical is, it's a research paper. You look up everything you can look up on every verse you're writing on and try to give it some depth and color and background so you have a better idea of what the author was trying to say. Because we're kinda removed from the situation. So, like when John says, our Lord and God, we're all "Cool! He's talking about God!" but back then it was all "Yeah! God is God not Caesar!" And... yeah... there's more but I'm tired of thinking about this... soooo

Here's the situation. We were told at the beginning of class that all we had to do were daily assignments and then they would MAGICALLY become an exegetical paper at the end of class. This was... less than accurate. I mean, I should have known. I took a class in undergrad with the same .... misleading information. But I WILLED it to be true. And so I believed it. This was stupid.

Two weeks ago, our prof was all, "so the draft of your exegetical is due in a week."
".... say what?"

And then it hit.
One time when I was little, my parents took me to the Virginia Beach Oceanfront. I was playing in the shallow water when a wave broke over me, taking me out! I thrashed and flopped about in the water trying to right myself and another wave broke over me. Saltwater filled my mouth, nose, and eyes. Everything was burning, I couldn't breath, I didn't know up.Sand was scratching me in every direction. Finally, my dad reached me and lifted me up out of the water. From then on, my sister and I requested to go to Little Wave Beach, what we affectionately called the Chesapeake Bay which, to this day, has never tried to kill me.

This was like that. Without my dad.
This time there was a due date. And I would either get my footing. Or die.

The draft my prof requested was reduced to a one page excerpt. And the final is due Monday. Yeah. Tomorrow.
But I finished it.

I started off strong. I mean, I love writing exegetical papers, doing research, finding fascinating nuggets of pertinent information. And I sat down and loved it. But enjoying my work was taking too long and there is a due date!
I mean, there were TWENTY FIVE VERSES. So much research! "What does this noun mean?" "What is this verb doing?" "Why do these versions translate this differently?" "Oh there's textual criticism here!" EVERY VERSE!

It started to get very bad. Self talk began. And anyone who has resorted to self-talk knows how quickly that can get ugly....

"Elizabeth! You're doing so great!! Why don't you watch an episode of the Gilmore Girls as a reward?!"
"Ok. That was five episodes. Probably should get back to work..."
"Spinning in your chair is not work!"
"You've written one paragraph in the past hour!"
"Ok, so research takes time, but let's see if we can't make some progress instead. Skip this and come back."
"YOU CAN'T SKIP ALL THE VERSES!"
"Ok more Gilmore Girls, but you have to finish a verse during each commercial break."
"...that was more a paragraph than a finished verse...."
"You can have OREOS if you finish a verse! You LOVE oreos!"
"Good job YAY OREOS!"
"No. No more oreos! Just finish your paper!"
"STOP SPINNING!"
"Yay! You finished a sentence!"
And standards continued to be compromised.

But I finished! I didn't finish strong but I didn't finish late!
I did it!
I ran out of oreos at one point. I ran out of Gilmore Girl Episodes. I ran out of printer ink. BUT I DIDN'T RUN OUT OF TIME!

And in celebration:
MORE OREOS!!!!!



^That's my paper. I printed it to edit. Half of it is pale blue, the other very pale pink...