Grocery Shopping

Yet again, I thank God that we're both "work from home" parents as I walk back to where James is splashing in a puddle collected in the knot of a tree root and hoist him into his carseat. There are no laws about carseats in Papua New Guinea and so even though he usually gets all securely buckled, he knows he could be privileged to sit elsewhere, so he vocalized his displeasure in today's arrangement. Marissa is being clipped in by Daddy on the other side.
We turn on the air, which is more of a hail Mary than an actual effort to cool the car as the A/C probably went out of this car before I was born. We roll down the windows though I'm constantly anxious about the wind hitting Marissa's face so she can't breathe or her aspirating the dust or exhaust that can often be overwhelming.

We pull into Anderson's, an American geared grocery store. They have a defined parking lot which is nice instead of trying to pull out of street parking with random pedestrians blocking you. We wave at the parking guards as we unloaded the kids from the back. The parking guards protect the vehicles from ruffians and rascals and direct traffic within the parking lot (which they are miserably bad at). Each fine little hair on our babies' faces is clinging to a drop of sweat and I decide that heatstroke is probably worse than maybe aspirating dust.
James walks into Anderson's as Jacob carries Marissa. We want to be in and out so fast it doesn't warrant putting her in a wrap. All of the national women call out about how the sun will cook their skin and why don't I have an umbrella for them, nevermind that we were hardly in the sun for 15 seconds. As I get James in the cart, store workers swarm him wanting to touch his white skin, trying to get a smile, but he swats at them. He prefers women who play hard to get.

Oh, how I long for the days when I could take my shopping list to Walmart, get out of the car ONCE, put James in a shopping cart and Marissa in a wrap and get every single thing on my list, in an air conditioned store, grab a hot and ready meal, load back in the car ONCE. And get home, with lunch, and anything on my list I couldn't get at Walmart, I could order off Amazon and have in a couple of hours (because I lived in Dallas and Dallas is cool like that.)
But alas, that is merely a longing.

But as we start tossing things in the cart (regularly interrupted by every passerby reaching out to touch James' white skin), it only highlights the things we can't find.
Here there are three different grocery stores, not counting the Butcher's. 2 grocery stores have two locations. You would think that both locations have the same stuff but this is not the case. The last grocery store is Anderson's, geared toward Americans. You'd think this would be my one stop shop, but this is also not the case.
Anderson's is lacking in the nuts and the Asian sauces, as well as Napisan, our diaper (Australian: nappy) pre-wash. Anderson's also doesn't sell boxed heavy whipping cream, because apparently it hates me.
So we AT LEAST go to Anderson's and one other grocery store and the Butcher's. Of course, now we need to start buying dog food so that adds another store.
But that's JUST food. If I need a dog bowl, I have to go to an entirely different store!
So this shopping list:
Laundry Detergent
Napisan
Chicken breast
Salad Dressing
Box of canned cokes
Baking soda
Dog food
Dog bowls
Involves going to 6 different stores. Except for the baking soda which I still haven't been able to find. Sometimes things just don't come in on the boat and you have to hope it'll be here with the next shipment in a couple months. When I left, yeast was scarce. You could only find it at the Chinese shops (Chinese shops are a nightmare for productivity. Every single one is chaos with the exact same stuff but totally different stuff from the one next to it. It's nice if you're bored and just want to browse to see what there is to see. But with two kids, I'm never bored enough to venture into the Chinese stores.)

We finished getting everything on our list and more. In America, not impulse buying is a good habit that saves your wallet. Here, it is emotional survival. Oh, the day they had Sunchips!! Normally, impulse buying focuses in on the boxed juices on sale for US$0.75. We buy those up!
Heading up to the cash register involves more store employees swarming James. He's a little less overwhelmed now and a bit more willing to smile as long as they don't get too handsy. He's afraid they take him from me, but as long as they don't try to grab him, he'll play nice and perhaps even reward them with a heartbreaking smile.

We leave the store back into the heat of the day. Most places in this hemisphere (and perhaps the world) don't have central air conditioning as a standard. Instead they have air conditioning units, similar to window units. They're weak in comparison to the central A/C but at least Anderson's has one.
Most stores have none to speak of and heat stroke threatens when standing in the checkout line.

The carts aren't supposed to leave the store, I've been told by other missionaries, but no one's ever stopped us before. Instead someone tries to steer the cart out for us and James freaks out, thinking their taking him away from me. So I take over, shoving a cart over the cobblestone parking lot. I go around to unlock the car and Jacob snaps Marissa in, while the store attendant unloads the groceries into our car. We used to have only James and Jacob would load the groceries, and when he took the last load, the store employee would pretend to push the cart away with James still in it. He loved that. So Marissa helps keep people from proving James' fear well-founded again.

Our next stop is the beloved Butcher's. Right next to Anderson's, we could walk if it weren't for the heat of the sun (and it's a separate parking lot).
The Butcher's is a little gourmet slice of the first world. Gorgeous tile floors and wood walls. Goosebumps run up our arms as the aircon is running so low and effectively. The walls on each side of the store have a few store refrigerators and freezer. One side filled with cheeses and gourmet whipped cream and soda's. The other side with the best ice cream, frozen seafood, and frozen meat pies. Beside the freezer section is a single set of shelves filled with gourmet delicacies. Sauces, marinades, ice cream toppings, snacks, etc. We never buy anything but meat, occasionally a coke to refresh us as only coke can, and on a very rare occasion, a carton of ice cream, but we love to look at the lovely treats as they work on separating our 4kg of chicken and 2kg of ground beef and 1kg of sausage. We used to be able to make that much meat last two weeks but James has started taking a fair portion so it's a bit less than that now. But we don't begrudge a trip to the Butcher's!
They say the owners are planning on relocating back to Australia soon and are selling the place. Hopefully the new owners will keep the place the same because it's such an oasis.

With meat in the car, we decide the items left on our list aren't so important that we stop by the office to shove the meat in the refrigerator until we finish our shopping. One day, we won't be able to put off Napisan anymore but on this day, we'll just head home. The heat has drained us significantly. So we grab a couple fried items at the Butcher's little food bar. Most stores have a food bar with fried food and perhaps some stews and currys. But most are riddled with flies and roaches. Butcher's has the best tasting food and the cleanest facilities. Once they had a chicken patty for sale! I wished I had had a bun and lettuce and tomato. McDonald's couldn't have made a better McChicken. Normally it's just meatballs made of pork, but today they have chicken legs and hash browns, so we spend US$5 on lunch and head home.

Tomorrow will be a slightly sadder story in a different store. The grocery stores geared to the Chinese have more food with only Chinese on the packaging and a cat or two that I assume are for rat hunting but walk in and out of the butchery area at their leisure. They also have less aircon than Anderson's and are the same amount of effort getting in and out for only one or two items. But diapers have to be washed! And I do love finding pumpkin seeds!

Trip #2 is on the Calendar

While we were in Australia, some very important logistics were worked out for our trip to the second language group on the table.
Who was taking us?
And when would we go?

Even though the idea was mentioned, there's a number of reasons why going on our lonesome seems like a bad idea.
1. It's a road allocation. Meaning I would have to drive.
a. I don't know how to drive a stick, so that could pose some complications.
b. If something were to happen (flat tire, highway robbery, overheated engine, etc.), what would I do?! I have no idea! I don't have a lot of experience in crisis management in a third world country.
2. It's the first time anyone from PBT has been out to see this people group in a hot minute. They need more of a greeting than two green members.
3. When I'm picking an allocation there are probably a ton of things to consider! Things that you may only realize after the fact. So I wanted someone who had already allocated to help point out things to me.
So I picked three of the best names on the field and said I wanted one of them to accompany us.

William Butler stepped up to the plate.
William is nearly finished with his own translation project, has successful raised a couple of children in the jungle, and is a noted storyteller, frequently requested for The Coffeehouse, PBT's annual night of missionary stories and dessert.

So with this brimming cup of wisdom, we'll be headed out in August, penciled in for the 15th-19th.

Now, just as with the first language group, we need a reason to go. So our mission is to present a change in spelling convention which was decided by the translation team but never before seen in print and see how well this change is received.
For an example that would be applicable in English, a small team of people decided that "c" was a stupid letter, utterly pointless, so they went through every single resourse in the language and tshanged every instanse of the letter of whitsh we speak to a signifikantly more appropriate letter, s or k. But no one, not even the small team of people had gotten a tshanse to see this tshange in print. So we're going to go out and present them with this tshange and see how they like it.
How are we going to do that?!
That's a fantastik kuestion! (q is also stupid)
When we know, I'll write another blog post!

Until then!
Please be in prayer that God would give us wisdom in our desisions about allokation.

Back in Beautiful Madang

The sky is azure.

Or, as they say in Italy, "celeste".

My daughter's namesake.

Before it gently wafts the rich green of coconut palm fronds, dancing in the light and shadows.

On the horizon, rests the sea.

Or, as they say in Spain, "mar"

My daughter's other namesake.

Before it swings my Marissa Celeste, hanging in a bilum. She naps so sweetly in a bilum, with all the comfort of a swaddle and all the breeze of a hammock.

 I'm sitting now at the kitchen peninsula on the new stools the Branch put in our flat to nestle under it perfectly. It's a lovely sea breeze that blows across the veranda, rocking Marissa as if she were her own, sweeping into the house through our wall of windows designed to coax her in, refreshing us all.

A cup of coffee is still warm beside me and it's not the first time, by far, that I've thought about how much I love my life this week.

At least that's how things were when I started typing this. Marissa woke up from her nap. James started screaming. Hungry? Tired? I don't know and neither does he. He tries to be affectionate with Marissa with too much gusto. Now she's screaming and he's mad again for being reprimanded to be gentle. The ants found my coffee cup by route of the counter right in front of my computer. So when my wrists touch the counter, I have to pause to pick ants off of me. Some guy is weed whacking? But he might have literal blades of grass for all the racket it's making. And someone is burning their trash (because the garbage men didn't come again yesterday) so billowing black smoke with odeur de plastic is filling our house. The windows coax smoke in with as little discretion as it does the wind. 

But the thing about love is, it's a choice.

And whether I have the sweet scent of the sea filling my house or stale smoke in a stifling house as I shut the windows against it. Whether I have a weed whacker trying to take out sword grass* to serenade me or tropical birds hosted in the palms, the fronds sounding like a gentle rain when the wind brushes them. Whether I have screaming babies or the symphony of my son's laughter and daughter's giggles.

I choose to love my life.

It just comes a little less naturally at some times…

But it's the racket that makes the silent still moments so sweet.

We're so glad to be home.

Unpacking everything you own is a lot easier when you already know where everything goes. It's certainly a benefit of the Branch's efforts to keep people in the same apartments each time they come into town.

We have just a couple missing boxes but are otherwise unpacked with only a few nooks and crannies that still need a bit of organizing.

We have a lovely evening routine and half a morning routine (when you don't have to be at the office or school at a certain time, things start devolving after a warm cup of coffee meets your grasp.) And we're working on figuring out a mid-day routine, integrating the work of two full-time employees with the daily life of two stay at home parents.

Saturday, we'll start dog-sitting for a month and at some point in the next couple of weeks, our guard puppy will be flown in. So the routine can't get too concrete quite yet…

But life is starting to settle.

For a moment at least.

And we're so glad that it's here and with these amazing people we get to call family. 

Our Guard Puppy

There's something really hard about timing in the Land of the Unexpected.

Is NOW the right time to get a guard dog? Should we wait until we have an allocation?

Will this be a good way to have a toddler let of energy, in puppy cuddles, or is a beast of a dog going to overwhelm my son who still wants to play with the puppy?

So I put it in the hands of the Lord.

I'll ask one church to buy me a guard puppy. A small church. Generous, but without deep pockets.

If the Lord has given them the resources and desire to hook us up, we'll take it as a sign.

When I dropped the figure of $500, there was some hesitation.

But Colonial Heights Church of Christ decided to host a fund raiser, nonetheless, trusting the Lord to provide.

A Cici's Pizza night

Through proceeds from the event, generosity from the owner to give them 10% of all the business that evening, not just those who came for the fund-raiser, "selling" dog biscuits, and additional gifts, Colonial Heights not only raised the $500 but more, leading them to give us an additional check for $100 to help with expenses.

So we'll be receiving our puppy soon!

This is Regina at 3 weeks. She's a Neo-Mastiff Rottweiler mix.

Presently she's 12 weeks old so a lot bigger than this photo shows!

She should be arriving in the next couple of weeks.

Luckily, we'll have a fairly well-trained guard dog on the property for the first couple of weeks she's here, so hopefully she'll pick up some good habits!

Please pray for Regina.

PNG is rough on puppies. We'll keep her on the porch for a while, away from rocks (which they like to eat and then can't pass and then die) and away from cane toads (which they also like to eat, but are poisonous). But there's a number of other ways for a puppy to die.

The Lord used His funds to purchase her and now we need His hand to protect her.

Also, pray that James and Regina bond in a crazy way worthy of writing a work of literature on.

(Probably a sad one as most stories of dogs are, where it ends with Regina dying a hero's death as she intercepts the strike of a Death Adder to save my son's life, killing the snake, but alas, falling victim to its bite of death.)

(Also pray that my children never encounter a death adder…)

(Or any member of our household…)

In conclusion,

Thank you, Colonial Heights, for your faith when it comes to funds and for investing your resources in us and our ministry.

Who Said What Now?

Matthew 14:8


Herodias, mother of the girl, spoke to her girl and her girl spoke to Herod, "You must put the head of John the Baptist on a plate and bring it to me."

It was 6:30 in the morning. We had worked until 10 pm the night before. Instead of going back to their villages, all the men slept right there in the pavilion anxious to start first thing in the morning. However, they had stayed up until 2 am telling their wives and discussing among themselves what we had discussed in the 105 vs we had accomplished that day. So our start was a bit late. But here we were, I with a coffee in hand, them chewing beetlenut which also is a stimulant.

As I had each time, I asked them to translate the verse from their language into Tok Pisin, the trade language. But there was something fishy about the translation that got my attention.
I'm not amazingly fluent in Tok Pisin so there's always a chance I misunderstood, but I asked them to repeat the verse.
There it was again!
Or "wasn't" as the case may be. There wasn't any reference to the girl.

"Who told Herod she wanted the head of John the Baptist?"
"Herodias wanted the head."
"But who told that to Herod?"
"Herodias."
"And what did Herodias' daughter do?"
"..."
Those who had a printing of the Tok Ples scripture referred to it.
"Herodias... told the girl... and then she told Herod."
"Who told Herod?"
And no one knew.

"Herod told the girl she could have whatever she wanted. But she wanted to make her mother happy, so asked what her mother wanted. Her mother told her she wanted John the Baptist's head, so the girl went back to Herod and told him she wanted John the Baptist's head."
"So Herodias whispered it to her daughter. Herod didn't hear her."
And that's where the miscommunication came in. Indeed, if Herodias had shouted across the hall and her daughter had said, yes, that's what I want, it would seem that Herodias did tell Herod.
So to fix the confusion, we split the sentence into two sentences. First Herodias speaks to her daughter. Then her daughter speaks to Herod.

Everyone agreed that this made the translation clear and it was still sweet to the ear.

Be sure to check out the gateway to all the other tales of our comprehension checking.

It's Time for a Paternity Test

Let's check out Matthew 14:9

6 On Herod’s birthday the daughter of Herodias danced for the guests and pleased Herod so much 7 that he promised with an oath to give her whatever she asked. 8 Prompted by her mother, she said, “Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.” (NIV)

The king heard this and his heart was distressed. But he thought of the strong promise he had made and he didn't want to be shamed in the eye of all the people who were sitting and eating with him. So he told the soldiers to do as the young girl had said. (English translation of Tok Pisin Translation of Tok Ples Translation)

Now, in Papua New Guinea, it's a common thing to want to avoid shame. If you ask someone for directions and they don't know, they'll give you some anyway because they don't want to be shamed. So I figured I should ask about Herod avoiding shame to see if it was coming across as a good thing to do. 

The answer:

This must not be Herod's daughter. It must be the daughter of Philip. If it was Herod's own daughter, he could tell her "no" without shaming himself.

An interesting implication the text has led them to! I don't think it's a major problem, but we have to research and figure out who's the father of the girl. We always read things through the lens of our own culture, but if the words we choose for this translation are leading them to believe something that's wrong, then we need to figure out if there's other ways we can word it so they don't think that wrong thing. Of course, if research does not provide a solid answer for paternity, then it probably doesn't make a major difference at all. But that's for someone wiser and with more experience than me to decide. 

(They did decide that while avoiding shame is a perfectly acceptable thing, Herod killing John the Baptist was a bad thing. I didn't quite get to whether it was a bad thing because murder is bad or because John the Baptist is a good guy, but we did confirm that Herod's actions were not being praised in this passage.)

Saying No.

I think a major problem many people have is saying no. Me? I don't have this problem. I love saying no.  

I say no all the time.

Saying no lots liberates me to say yes when I need and want to.

The director of the branch has been really great at telling people no, too. With so much work to be done and so few people on the field, new arrivals means help with super awesome projects. And they are (mostly) all super awesome projects!
But he keeps the eager chomping on their bits.

"No, you cannot ask the Smiths to do x, y, AND z! They just got here! They're about to have baby #2! Give them a break." But I have informed him that I am very good at saying no. And so they come, people with projects, albeit super awesome projects, and I say: No.

I'm about to have a baby. We're about to get a guard puppy (by the way, if you have info on training a guard puppy, hook me up!) And we're about to allocate and start our own super awesome projects.

To sign up for anything really would be stupid.

And I am not stupid.

So I keep my obligations few and only commit to very very short term things.

For this reason, when Lindy the Awesome came to me and said that she could use some help managing her workload, I was able to say Yes. Not only is the project important and worthy but I can help someone I love manage their commitment to a project they signed up for before they signed up for a REALLY IMPORTANT PROJECT, which is very time consuming.

So while I'm in Australia, I'll be working on generating Translation Helps in Tok Pisin! We have a ton of resources in English, but if you don't know English, you're kind of out of luck. But together with a huge team of people, PBT is working to compile information helpful to Bible translation together in the trade language. This information will be specific to Papua New Guinea and challenges that their culture and language rules often encounter.

We have a ton of Group Directed Projects in our organization alone who are forging down the long and hard road to get the Word of God in their own language without the constant and focused help of a translation specialist. This will help them in that difficult endeavor.

Now neither Lindy nor I have enough experience to read a passage of Scripture, immediately see all the problem areas and write up help on how to translate it in Tok Pisin, like the other people working on the project. She has to sift through a million commentaries and translation helps in English. Very time consuming. Well, I just so happen to be very good at sifting! So I said Yes. To Lindy. 

Now, when I was asked by the Director of Language Affairs if I wanted to be a part of this project, I said: No.

I want to help Lindy with her part of this pie. That's it! I don't want my own piece of pie! No. I'm helping Lindy. Because that's what friends do. They help eat pie so that there are no upset tummies!

And I have the time to do so! All thanks to my "No" Policy!

Just say no! - This message was brought to you by DARE. (not really)