You get what you pay for (an unedited stream of thought)

I haven't posted in forever and  for that I feel terrible.
Life has been super busy recently. I started working a restaurant (which will remain nameless as I'm not allowed to talk about my company in social media), with Jacob. I hate working there. Hate. Hate. Hate. The company is great but the clients make you question the common decency in humanity and as a result, I get so frustrated that I begin acting like a very ugly person. I've recently reduced my hours to two days a week, because my marriage is more important than all the money I make. And do I make money there!
But I work constantly, at the restaurant and at professional blogging to make enough money to go to grad school. It's looking like more than $7000 next semester, just for tuition. And they don't accept financial aid.
I'm in school right now. It's really stressful. I got a 67% on my last homework. Apparently, I did really well, or so my Teacher's Assistant (TA) told me. But no matter how well I did compared to the rest of the class, any grade less than a 90% has me stressed out. He says I don't need to worry about passing the class, but I don't know if that's a nice thing to say or if it's an insight, a promise. That happens sometimes. It happened last session. Through miscommunication, I did less than my preferred 90% on an important assignment, but the prof said she knew I deserved a good grade, so no matter how the numbers crunched in the end, I would get one. And her word was good.
So, I'm working a job I hate to pay for schooling that stresses me out immeasurably. And at the end of the day I'm just tired. So tired.
Consequently, I haven't been doing well in partnership development, either keeping my partners informed (as I haven't posted in months) (although my husband helped put together a newsletter last month) or finding new partners. This is unacceptable. I hope to either quit or change positions at my job, trusting the Lord to provide despite my level of income. (He's been amazing so far this year. Really, based on my number crunching we shouldn't be able to afford to eat. And yet somehow, even without getting any more in debt, we manage to cover all of our expenses.)
And so, I'm working a job I hate to pay for schooling that stresses me out immeasurably and failing at PD. And at the end of the day I'm just tired. So tired.

BUT
This is not for naught. In December, when I graduate, I will leave behind the world of academics and in June 2014, my husband and I will travel the country looking for the ones God has chosen to be a part of this.
And then my husband and I, with our partners behind us, will board a plane and go off to Papua New Guinea. We will live in a house made of bush materials and make friends with the nationals and we will sit down with them in the dirt and learn together how we can make God's Word real to them, how we can put it in their heart language so that they can hear the Words of God resonate in their hearts, so they can find freedom from the sanguma men that haunt their dreams, so they can have transformed lives and live lives of joy, rejoicing in the Lord with the rest of Christendom. And as we witness life change, as we hand out Bibles that the people can read and will cherish, we will find that this miserable job that I hate hate hate and this stressful schooling was insignificant in the light of eternity, a eternity that we will share with our Papuan brothers and sisters in Christ, worshiping before the throne, every tribe and language and people and nation.
And for this we perserver.

I implore you for understanding, empathy, and prayer.
The life we have chosen is hard, so hard. But you get what you pay for. And while the price is great now, this job pays! Truly, truly, in the end I know it will all be worth it.
But please, please pray that we endure, that we perserver, and that joy abides in our souls throughout the hard times.

In a Nutshell

Wow.

Well, we've back in Dallas for a week now. I got our house back to passably clean and now that my work environment isn't abhorrent, I can turn my attention to other things. Like keeping everyone informed and up to date.

2 months in PNG is no easy thing to put in a nut shell.
Officially:
I spent two weeks in Madang observing on the Somau Garia Advisor check
Three weeks in the village of Anguna, working the medical course, cleaning the literacy building, and sewing curtains.
And three more weeks in Madang, working on the adaption process from Aruamu to Akukem, with the Akukem National Translators.

Unofficially:
I was told to be careful, as the house I was staying in had recently been broken into. Which made every leaf, fruit, and stick that fell from the trees looming over our house onto our tin roof in the middle of the night an intruder with ill intent. Which made most nights patchy on the sleep....

While I had officially things to do, those things weren't really all day consuming. So I spent my days looking for work, and when none was to be found, I found free ebooks online. (My library is at 500 now. Although really, it's less impressive than it sounds. Like 20 books in 5 minutes.)

Then I went to the village:
I was "attacked" by an adorable pig.
I got to pet an owlet. Soft down all over!
I got to go fishing (after sitting 5 hours on the shore doing nothing. It's really not good for my task oriented nature....)
I got to hike in the jungles of Papua New Guinea.
I can walk across a log without holding on to anything for balance!
I helped teach 6 men how to tell whats wrong with a child and what medicine to give to make it better.
I gave medicine to the sick who came.
I watched as kids came every week to a bible study to learn how to read and learn to understand and apply God's Word.
I washed clothes in the river.
I sewed 18 curtains on a hand-crank sewing machine.

We went back to Madang and I taught the Akukem team how to use Paratext, a computer program, to turn a related languages completed scripture into their language. And Jacob and I printed off 25 copies of 17 books of the Mborena Kam New Testament.

And that was our exploratory trip to Papua New Guinea. If there's anything you'd like to hear more about or anything you'd like to know, let me know. I could use some prompts for blog posts!!

(Perhaps you noticed the large numbers of 'I's in the post. It probably has something to do with the belief I have that Short-Term trips isn't about the nationals but about the person going on them. The purpose of our trip was so Jacob could see Papua New Guinea before we headed out without a return ticket. I highly doubt that either of us changed someone's life in the three weeks we were in the village. We hardly can speak the language! I mean, let's face it, weeks, or even two months, isn't enough time to develop rapport, let alone have our actions or even words carry enough weight to impact lives. I suppose it could happen. I just don't think that it does very often.
But as much as this trip was about us, exploring our future home, we strove to serve the missionaries there. To make their jobs easier, to alleviate some stress, to do things that can be delegated so they can focus on their job. Because it's their job to make relationships, it's their job to present the Gospel so it can change lives, because they have the time to do it. And I cannot wait! to be among them. Living with the people of Papua New Guinea for years, residing in their village, laboring beside them, knowing their struggles and fears, and trying to emulate Christ, not for weeks, but for years, so that He might change lives.)

So what about you? What was something awesome you did on a short term trip? something you did to serve a missionary? Or have you ever heard back that your short term trip really did change someone's life?

Where Magic is Real. And Scary.

In Papua New Guinea, you have your sanguma man, your glassman, and your bigman.

Historically, a bigman was a final decision maker, hearing the opinions of all and stating the majorities stance as the decision. Now they're just people that others respect and listen to, less of a final decision maker. Also, historically, these men were sanguma men.

A Sanguma man is your run-of-the-mill assassin. Either with magic or more concrete means, he's hired to kill. If anyone ever falls sick, it was a sanguma man using magic. And you have to go to a glassman, a magic practitioner, to work magic to make the sickness go away. Now if you ever see a sanguma man, you'll probably die, because the sanguma man doesn't want a witness.

Now, while the Word of God is making a notable change in people's view on the spirits and their powers, it's still a hard concept to grasp that God is more powerful than anything else. So people typically delay quite a bit before going to Martha to get medicine, which, as you can imagine, is a great source of frustration for Martha.

Now, one night, after the boys Bible study, they prayed that God would protect them from the sanguma men. When asked, they said that there had been a number of sightings of sanguma men close to the area. This is not like "ooo, I saw Bigfoot!!!" This is like, "...I just saw a ninja." There are people who's intent is murder, who have been seen, multiple times, close to the village.

Well, of course, right in the middle of that fateful night, I had to use the facilities. ...or the bush due to the lack of facilities. So during this moonless night, I go out and use my torch (the aussie word for flashlight) to look in the bush for any sanguma men (like I would be able to see a native trying to hide in the jungle). Seeing nothing, I switch it off (so the villagers don't see me!) and the entire time, I couldn't help but think "A sanguma man is going to hop out of the bush and kill me with a machete!"

(Now before you think less of me for being afraid of the sanguma man, let me remind you: this is not a spirit, even evil spirits must obey God. I'm not afraid of them. A sanguma man is a man. And men have freewill. And this is concerning.) Well, I finish my business and turn on my torch and resume scanning the bush for impending doom as I walk back to our house. At the last second, I turn to watch where I'm going (smart move, I know) and quite unexpectedly THIS HUGE PIG APPEARS IN MY TORCH LIGHT. My heart definitely stopped, I was afraid it would forget how to start again! (It didn't forget.) When telling this story to Martha, she said that the nationals would say that the sanguma man turned into the pig! (She also said that there was a pig in the area prone to attacking people and that I should eye the pigs as much as the bush.)

So the thing I'm turning in my mind is this: Living in a world where magic is real, spirits aren't something to mess with, and sanguma men are out to get you, in a world where the supernatural strikes genuine terror in the hearts of all, how do I brace my children for Twilight? Harry Potter? The Lord of the Rings? The Chronicles of Narnia? 

Fishing

Well, I've been back from the bush for a fair handful of days now. But motivation to go through pictures and write blogs was just lacking.

It's just, sooooooo much happened in the bush. To process through that and approximately 300 pictures is hardly a task I want to tackle during break at the office!

But today is Saturday.

Jacob is at a Literacy meeting (on a Saturday! At 10am!) and I'm home alone with 300 pictures, coffee, Tim Tams, and time.

Here we go:

Fishing

It's our second Saturday in the Bush. And I'm in a bad place. You see, I've gone for two weeks being the epitome of awesome. However, this has resulted in little to no Elizabeth time. And that will take a toll on a girl!

The first half of the day involved us lounging about, enjoying the Saturday, having just completed a week long medical course. Martha, the missionary we were staying with, was running to and fro about the village to ensure that at some point someone would take us to go fishing.

The entire time, I was thinking, "If they forgot, it wouldn't be the end of my world." But Martha said it was the task that no intern had ever hated doing! And that we wouldn't get a chance again during our time there in the village so we should go.

Well, noon rolls around and someone comes to fetch us. And I must admit, I did get a bit enthused as we began our hike to the river.

I shouldn't have.

After almost breaking my neck on the small but steep cliff they wanted me to hop down, they seated us on the rocky bank. And shortly after, the women left to go cook just a ways away. Now I wasn't sure if I should join them. I was concerned that they were cooking not enough for us and so moved away for a reason.

So I sat on the rocks.

Unproportionately frustrated as a result of lack of alone time, the time that breeds sanity.

It was very cold. I had goosebumps.

There was a multitude of misbehaving children (as children aren't really disciplined until it's time for them to start being useful).

I was sitting on rocks.

I did not get fed.

No one talked to me (except the misbehaving children) (and Jacob, I guess)

And it would occasionally rain.

For four hours.

Waiting on the fish.

They have this vine they call Masak, which they cut and put into the river and it poisons all the fish. (Yeah, I know, bad long term decision. But in the short term, you can add protein to your diet!) Well, whoever was supposed to be poisoning the river didn't get up early enough so the fish didn't start coming until 5.

For four hours we waited.

"I hate everything," I told Jacob.

It was one of those days.

 

Finally, the fish came, and I got into the river with a loaned net. And let me tell you. Those fish were not dead yet. Floating belly up is not a sure sign! Because when I tried to pull that net up underneath him, that fish came to and swam off on the double!

But they had strung nets across the river behind us to catch the fish that evaded us.

But I did manage to catch one!

And Jacob even managed to spear one! (Although it was on someone else's spear at the time)

(The nationals told us to take a picture of him pretending to spear it from the water!)

The act of fishing was a load of fun.

But, on this day, I was not in a position to sit on the shore for four hours with all the awesomeness I can normally maintain.

Upon arriving to Martha's house, a Bible Study was underway. And I locked myself in a back room for two hours. And it was a good idea.

So what about you? Have you ever had a day that wasn't that bad but external factors made you hate everything? Do tell!

Day 2: The Big Fight on the Very Stressful Day

Day 2:

Blue mountain coffee in the morning.

Orientation at the office. It was not the most fun I've had in my life. You see, I'm a HIGH D personality, which means I like information to be giving to me succinctly with no additives, quick bullet points. My information should look like a powerpoint, not a lecture. Yet, orientation was given by various people, most of whom filled my information with additives. I found this to be quite stressful. Most often, I'm capable of being patient. But after two hours, I was on the verge of a breakdown. 

Now one of my problems here was, I had a checklist. When I have a checklist, my brain says "CHECK ALL THE THINGS!!!!!" And wants to win doing it, which means do it as quickly as possible. This is not possible with information additives. More stress.

The best part was finance. I went in and told Kathy that I needed to be oriented. She told me that she didn't know how to do that, so I looked at my checklist. "OK, tell me how to ____________" and she did. "Great, tell me how to _________" and she did. And we went through 1/4 of the checklist with no additives and in 5 mins. It was beautiful. 

In the afternoon, I worked on some excel documents and meal planning for the bush. But I went home exhausted and worn.

Now my otherwise amazing husband has this flaw. He's not good at being sick. He's one of those sick people. The people who like to be coddled in the their sickness, but when they don't feel like they're being coddled enough, remind people that they are sick, and tend to be slightly more exaggeratory of the circumstances. Now some such people are such people sick or well. Luckily my husband only has such tendencies when he's sick or hurting.

Now otherwise amazing me has this flaw. I'm not good at being tolerant. "Bemoaning how sick you are doesn't make you any less sick so shut up and stop making me sick!"

As you can see, it's a great combination. Luckily Jacob isn't sick or hurt often. 

Now my husband has this sore on the inside of his mouth. The kind that hurts if your drink is too acidic or your food too salty or whatever. Well, he was eating passionfruit and I suggested he suck the sweet snot like substance off the sours seeds and spit the seeds.

Well my husband must have had a stressful day too because he was particularly …insistent about his pain.

"Ow!"

Oh, yeah Jacob has that sore. I guess spitting wasn't all together pleasant…

"I can't! I can’t suck the seeds out! It hurts my mouth!!" with a very serious and intense face. (Thinking about a 5 yr old doing this is so adorable, it makes me laugh out loud. Alas, my husband is not 5 and so that was not my response.)

Now, I'm already unsympathetic in these situations. Any sympathy I did have for the suffering promptly evaporates upon what we call "milking it." And let's add to this: my stress. And my sleep deprivation. I woke at 4. Did NOT get a nap. And am so tired an hour will pass and it will be bedtime.

But I tried. I said jokingly so it didn't come off as attacking, practically laughing the words out of my mouth, "You are the most irritating sick person I have ever met!! Except! My sister, Andrea. When she was younger, she would lie on the couch with a belly ache and flail her arms and legs wildly, moaning loudly, just so we wouldn't forget that she was sick! And I would just think, "That's not making you feel any better, probably worse, now be quiet so I can watch TV!""

My objective here was "Honey, you're annoying me. You kind of remind me of OMG HERE’S A FUNNY STORY ABOUT ANDREA ISN’T THAT HILARIOUS!?!?!?” And there's no reason to reply to the first part because I already did a segue away from it!

But Jacob didn't take my segue and got defensive which made me livid, because I'm having a really stressful day!!!!

When Jacob saw my very intense anger, he apologized for getting defensive. (Please refer to Gottman concerning the gravity of the offense of being defensive. It's very bad!)

But I was past I'm-sorry-fixes-all. I'm angry and I've had a very stressful day!!

So I wanted to do something to completely ignore  Jacob, at whom I angry. So I go to grab my Kindle to read. It is dead. Despite the fact that it was fully charged before I left the US and off until that moment. It was dead. I threw down the kindle in disgust. And decide I want coffee. So I go to make coffee. We have a this annoying electric kettle, that doesn’t seem to tell you when it’s done. So I had lukewarm coffee with a ton of grounds. (I don't know how that happened. I used the french press like always… I don't know.) OK. So I go to take a shower. THE HOT WATER HEATER HAD BEEN TURNED OFF!!!!!WHY?!?!?! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!?!?!?!?  So I storm out of the bathroom (oh and of course my little angry cloud has gotten bigger and bigger at each frustrating inconvenience. Do you remember Hurricane Isabel? Yeah, if she saw me coming, she would step back) So I go back to my coffee, to see if the grounds had settled so it would be drinkable. They had not. (I was told that in a tin can, you could knock the side of the can with a spoon and the coffee grounds would drop to the bottom "as if stunned". I tried this. It didn't work.) So, in my anger, I went to rip open the screen door. Locked. (Ironic, because I think the door being locked when Jacob wanted it unlocked caused him frustration that his pain added to that resulted in the melodramatic display that brought on this hurricane. And then he locked the door causing me more frustration. (he QUICKLY apologized for locking it)) So I grab the key. Unlock the door. Replaced the keys on the table. Aggressively throw my coffee out in disdain. Retrieve the key. Relock the door. I then went to the room and this hurricane’s rain came forth. Menawhile the shower was dripping in such away that would result in my loss of sanity.

Jacob came in after a while. Sat in silence. Then started rubbing my back. I tensed in rejection. I'm still angry at him. But he didn’t notice. And it felt good. And I figured nursing a grudge never got me anywhere. So I confided in my husband, listing the things that had gone wrong since ignoring him had begun.

And then he left.

He stopped the drip, brought me ground-free coffee, and alerted me as to when the hot water had returned.

As I said, he has that flaw, but otherwise, he's amazing.

The number one reason missionaries leave the field is interpersonal problems. It's super important to forgive and choose to not stay angry and to have open communication. And to be aware. Stressful days result in fighting. Maybe some completely alone time is appropriate on those days. Avoid circumstances that often lead into sin. 

In Transit

Well I guess it's probably time for an update.

The 16hr flight wasn't nearly as torturous as it sounds. I slept about 13 hrs of it which was fantastic! When I wasn't sleeping, I watched Mirror Mirror and concluded the last 1:30hr of the flight with back to back episodes of Bones.

We landed in Brisbane, and played cards until the flight to Port Moresby , PNG.

3 hrs there and we were picked up by a jolly national who drove us to the SIL guesthouse. We received our key, went to our room, observed the six beds available (decided against the  bunkbeds), and passed out in the double. We had set our alarm for dinner time and stumbled into the dining hall to be greeted with the other missionaries staying there and shepherds pie! The conversation was delightful and dessert was an ice cream float! (vanilla ice cream and orange mango soda!)

After supper we went back to our rooms and crashed again.

This was a mistake. It was 7:30.

So at 2:20 am, I convinced my husband to get up with me, brew some delicious Blue Mountain coffee, and sit on the patio with me to play cards. Eventually he was tired of cards, so we went inside and I played solitaire on the bed. (For someone who wasn't interested in playing cards, he sure had a lot to say about how I was playing!)

But per usual, 7:30am rolled around and we were on our way back to the airport.

When we pulled up to passenger drop-off, there was a police van with a national woman in the back. She had long dreads that lashed about as she rocked back and forth violently, throwing herself forward and yanking herself back. A crowd swarmed and people from all over the area, inside, streetside, in the parking lot, flooded to this location. The crowd shifted from the police van and it was empty, which leads me to believe  that she was moved from inside the van to inside the crowd, working her way inside the airport.

Our driver decided it would be wise for us to stay inside the vehicle while the crowd was at large, but eventually they dispersed and we got out. Our objective was a luggage cart. We had seen them when the crowd was thick but now there were none to be found. So our driver sent us in the airport to get one. The security guard sent us through security to get one. The people on the other side of security sent us to the far side of ticketing, but eventually we found one.

When we made it through security again, with our luggage this time, we approached the tv screen displaying flights to discover there wasn't one leaving for Madang!!!!!

Dun dun dun!!!

Now, Jacob and I are $550 short from our budget. What we do not need is additional expenses. Like another night in Port Moresby. So I go to the ticket counter and they ease my anxiety, informing me that there is a plane to Madang (they just don't always update the screen), and ticketing for it would begin when they hung a sign saying Madang from over a register. So we sat and waited. And when the sign was hung, we stood at waited. For an hour. (the concept of single file and turn taking is apparently foreign.) 

When we got to the counter the woman asked me if I had filled out some form. No one had told me I had needed to fill out a form, not even the PNG website from which I had bought the tickets. And I don't know why I needed a form, I had made it in the country with PNG's approval, I'm pretty sure I can now move about the country freely. But she insisted there was a form that needed to be filled out. I told her that I probably hadn't done so. She huffed and puffed for a while but eventually gave us tickets anyway. I really have no idea what happened there.

We had to pay $65 for extra baggage. And then we moved to go through security (again). They asked to weigh Jacob's carry-on (which is WAY lighter than mine) and it was twice the permissible weight. They told me we'd have to check our carry-ons.

There are multiple problems here.

1. It's half an hour til our flight. I do not have another hour I can wait in line for.

2. I have four laptops, 2 kindles, 4 cell phones, 1 camera, & 3 external hard drives, in the carry-on's all of which was very important to not get stolen, which isn't very controllable when it get's checked on to the plane.

3. I do not need to incur any further expenses!!

So I did what I do best. I can rock it in America, and baby, I can rock it in PNG.

I combined fear, sadness,  confusion, and innocence in a perfectly proportioned blend on my face. And asked "what? What do I have to do?!"

He then let us through. Many people find causing a pretty young lady unnecessary stress is morally wrong, and this man was, luckily, no exception. So instead of sending us away, he escorted us through security and saw us on our way!

We got to Madang (finally!!!!), grabbed our luggage and loaded up, with half the branch to the Madang Lodge for pizza!

They dropped us at the house, we showered (finally!!!) and then they picked us up again to go to the office. After some internet time, sing and share began at 6. And my poor jet lagged husband kept falling asleep during prayer. Finally, 7:30 we went to bed and lo and behold, 2:20 is when we woke up. But this time I worked on falling back asleep and finally got out of bed at 4. 

On our way

I'm sitting at the gate in DFW International airport, staring at my HUGE plane. I mean HUGE!!! It's an hour til boarding and my energy level is sinking. (which is fantastic, because low energy is just where you want to be on an 18 hr flight!!) 

This morning I woke up and finished packing. I was ready to go at 12 but it wasn't time to get in the car until 6 so I had a great deal of time to twiddle my thumbs. ...or so I thought. 

About half way through this lull in my day, I got a phone call saying the gift I was counting on to take us over our budget and into the clear was not coming. Which means my husband and I are getting on to a plane TONIGHT $1382 short of our goal. 

STRESS!!!!!!!!!!

So we got on the phones, Jacob called people, I called churches. And we raised $750 in an hour or so. It was awesome! and humbling! 

We're still about $650 short and really need to raise that money before the end of our trip. But God got us this far. I'm excited to see who He pulls in to help us get the rest of the way. 

We managed to get to the airport hitting minimal traffic and got through security swiftly. 

Now, I'm staring at this ginormous plane that they're trying to convince me is capable of flight, and fighting thoughts of the 18 hour flight with memories of my trip from two years ago. I anticipate this trip to be even more awesome. 

Goodbye America, I'll keep in touch and see you again soon enough.