The Tale of the Ugly Duck

How are things since my last post? To be honest, the thought of recounting Thanksgiving kind of overwhelms me – even though I was fully prepared to post it at the beginning of December. I used to be the kind of kid predisposed to homesickness. Not kidding. When I was four, I tried to sleep over at my friend Marilee’s house and her parents ended up taking me back home because I just couldn’t do it. And the night my sister was born, I slept over at the home of some family friends – and I just remember crying buckets over Miss Piggy, who was my guardian for the night. And during my first semester at the University of Michigan, my friends and I all gathered in my room tearing up listening to Christmas music during finals – most of us from the Midwest, mind you – because we missed home. And now I live in Indonesia, a week away from Christmas, missing everyone and everything but the homesick pangs aren't as bad as I thought they would be. Also, I find myself really moody in my new context at times, and I realize that I’m not the kind of girl that eats my feelings (no offense to those who do; and when I eat my feelings, I eat chocolate) – I listen to them. Actually, I have to admit sheepishly that I went on an iTunes binge-rampage-extravaganza yesterday because I had all of this music in my head from high school band and orchestra and it was like I craved it. Strange and true, I needed the music to think about life as I know it currently [okay, and that list included Shostakovich's String Quartet No. 8, the Hebrides Suite, the Prelude to Tristan und Isolde, On a Hymnsong of Philip Bliss, and some music from the movie Amélie... just in case you were curious. Lots of contemplative stuff, I know. It's because I wanted it to process everything that led to the explosion written below...]

To leave everything safe and familiar, I realize that I needed to build up something in order to feel secure. I did this through learning Bahasa Indonesia and cleaning at home. I figured that if I could do things that I was good at, then people should not feel the right to come into my life and speak to the flaws in my character, to say the things that I didn’t want to hear but were so good and necessary for me. So, itt’s been a little over five months since we left the States, and Indonesia has become this incredible crock-pot for me to sit and stew in – a sort of crucible, surfacing all these things that have been in my heart for years. I took some time to read over my journals from the past five months and saw the aspiring creative writer in me. Mostly my heart swelled, because of seeing everything I have been learning. There was some sadness too, at the realization of my tendency to organize things into a narrative rather than just seeing them as raw. So here I give you some of the raw (which is about me and not necessarily Indonesia...hold onto your hats, kids!)

::Bahasa Indonesia:: I was reflecting this morning on how much change has actually taken place, language-wise. I used to sit in morning meetings, listening to what sounded to me like jibberish – and now, I understand (75-80% of the time) what problems the people in my department encounter. I had to reevaluate my motives for learning the language. What was I really learning it for? I have to admit that I didn’t want to leave this place without gaining a command of it. And then I have to insert some cheese here with a line from Spiderman, where Uncle Ben says, “With great power comes great responsibility” (or something like that). What was I learning this language for, if not to eventually gain a working command of it, in order to share with people from this country about the love of Jesus Christ – what he has done and is currently doing in my life? It’s a great challenge, because I am still learning the language, and then do I even share about my faith in my first language?

::Cleaning:: one of my chores growing up was to keep the shoe closet organized, although I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of it because every few months or so, we’d have to clean up the shoe closet, and Marms’ “keep your shoes!” fell on deaf ears more often than not… Grew up sweeping floors and washing dishes and doing laundry and other domestic sports, and so moving into an apartment with four other girls and continuing to do these things was easy. Actually, the cleaning was quite therapeutic – an outlet for me to work out any feelings I had upon moving to Indonesia, just because it’s so mindless. Looking back, I realize that the girl who came to Indonesia five months ago was very insistent at having her way, still having claim over some area of expertise in order to feel valued. It was easy to push the couches around, dust things, and sweep and mop the floor and wash the dishes after LIFE Group even though it was so late – and can you imagine, I took such pride in my ability to do such things well, and even more than that, to think so highly of myself for my ability to do these things! I shake my head now when I think that I needed to think that I was better than my teammates, and that cleaning was another way to build myself up.

I realize that I do things to build myself up to compensate for things lost or things never there. In my mind, I was thinking, ‘If I can do these things well, then so-and-so should feel terrible for wanting to speak to another area of my life that needs improvement!’ it follows then that Learning Bahasa Indonesia and cleaning have been my covering for my lack. And how much I realize in this new environment how much I lack!

Actually, someone shared with me recently that I am awkward. It wasn’t a topic that took up a significant portion of the conversation, but the mere mention of it had me searching high and low to grasp what that person might have meant since we didn’t discuss the topic further. My searching brought me to this definition from Mr. Webster (as my 4th Grade teacher so fondly referred to the dictionary):

Main Entry: awk·ward
Pronunciation: \ˈȯ-kwərd\
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English awkeward in the wrong direction, from awke turned the wrong way, from Old Norse ǫfugr; akin to Old High German abuh turned the wrong way
Date: 1530
1 obsolete : perverse
2 archaic : unfavorable, adverse
3 a : lacking dexterity or skill (as in the use of hands) b : showing the result of a lack of expertness
4 a : lacking ease or grace (as of movement or expression) b : lacking the right proportions, size, or harmony of parts : ungainly
5 a : lacking social grace and assurance b : causing embarrassment
6 : not easy to handle or deal with : requiring great skill, ingenuity, or care

Reading that definition shook me to my core (and is the primary reason that I went on my iTunes binge mentioned earlier, hahaha). How dare he refer to me as not dexterous, when I grew up playing piano – and any pianist, expert or amateur (I am the latter), knows that playing piano is the end of cultivating dexterity (okay, fingers-wise…) How dare he address my lack of expertness, when I graduated in the top 10% of my high school class and got my bachelor’s degree from the University of Michigan. How dare he suggest that I lacked social graces – me, the resident advisor to more than 100 girls over 2 years and in positions of leadership as old as I was able to run for any sort of office (and for the most part, won). The last part of that definition floored me though, as I had to be honest with myself that I have not been easy to handle or deal with throughout my life and that I have seen how people have tread so carefully around me, or dropped me entirely. This was no fault of theirs - it was mine.

I started Wikipedia-ing like crazy (yeah, I guess that’s a pastime of mine when I have access to the internet. I’m actually not kidding…), trying to make sense of who I am through my name – which refers to the part of the eye, which translates in Spanish and Portuguese to “rainbow,” which is the title of a song by the Goo Goo Dolls (yes, I am aware…) and even asking God, ‘Why did you make me this way?’ referring to my handed-ness (which is left-handed, and yes, the reason why this blog is under construction…)

I love the story of “The Ugly Duckling” because this awkward, ungainly bird matures into a beautiful swan. I have been teased that I grew up to be a duck, and I think it’s really true. In this new context, I am fixed in my Western mind, slow to pick up on cultural cues, and slow to pick up on social cues. When I find myself in situations that are completely new and different to me, I clam up because I would rather do that than step out gingerly and fail. I hate looking weak, appearing ignorant. I realize that I have done this over the past few months to hold onto my pride – and it’s easy to reach back to things one thinks they can control when one is away from everything safe and familiar.

As I was thinking through the definition of “awkward,” it was extremely sobering to admit that the assessment of that aspect of my character was correct. I do have a hard time fitting into large groups, and people within my age bracket – likely because of events in my life that caused me to mature emotionally in a short amount of time, and also because of events that prevented me from maturing emotionally. I am used to being useful and praised for my supposed leadership skills and social cool, and I have to admit that actually yes, it is very uncomfortable for me to be in large groups of people – likely because I have only now began to reconcile who it is that I am and who I am becoming, because I haven’t accepted myself for who I am, and fear what others may think as well. I get frustrated with people who appear ignorant or not knowledgeable, thinking all the while that I am – and at the end of the day, I have to be honest and say, actually I am quite clueless and appearing knowledgeable is a cover for what I really am – which is slow to picking up concepts, but when I do I really get it… no real expertise in a specific area of whatever I studied (because I wanted to study everything possible), (and when I read the news, I have to admit that I actually read the soft/feature news and have a hard time wading through the more in-depth hard news). It’s no fun to be stripped down to the bare bones of what you really are, and hanging onto whatever I thought I was good at was a way for me to keep covering myself and my lack – and demonstrated, and still demonstrates, my brokenness and how I cannot fix myself. How I cannot rid myself of the filth and the grime that everyone else around me senses as pride.

It is a great comfort to think back to the Apostle Paul’s words, “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God – through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25) So I guess this all really does tie back into Christmas because this is the reason that Jesus came to earth – to rescue insecure, broken, proud people like me – and that by believing that He became my sin (e.g. my pride), who knew no sin that I might become His righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21) (imagine that!), that I could experience the wholeness that comes from Christ, that I don’t have to build myself up with meager things like language acquisition or cleaning. The part of the definition that floored me about myself had me floored again thinking about Christ, and how willing he was to handle me with great skill, ingenuity, and care. And while I was feeling so ruined at thinking about how malformed I really am on the inside, I realize that accepting things like being awkward are an opportunity for God to be to me who he was to people like Paul when he said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Thank you, Jesus, for coming to earth to become my sin – my pride, and countless other things I am ashamed of – and to die on the cross so that sin could be done away with, that I might know what it means to let go of the things that I found my security in and take hold of you this Christmas and (strive to do) every day of the year…thank you that you are not above carrying your work onto completion until the day of Christ Jesus (Philippians 1:6) in the heart of this ugly duckling who grew up into a duck!

::aspirations to a low life; or, absolutely cut to the heart; or, the waiter::

“Miss, you seem so busy…”

I had just met for breakfast this morning at the only place I know that is open for breakfast in Lippo Karawaci, Sun Star Café and Resto at Benton Junction, which is a cutesy little strip of restaurants reminiscent of what anyone might see at Main Street or State Street in Ann Arbor. I mention this because Benton Junction is an exception in Indonesia, and not the rule. And Sun Star, because nothing ever opens earlier than 10:00 am – but I know that this restaurant opens very early in the morning, if you are ever in my neck of the woods…

I met with my life change group accountability partner Lea this morning for breakfast. My purpose in going to Benton Junction was two fold – for meeting up with her, and also for using the internet immediately afterwards. Just after Lea left, I was sms-ing like crazy on my hand phone, trying to figure out how to purchase a cooked turkey from our own version of Walmart (Hypermart!) and also trying to figure out how to connect to the internet. I admit, I am not the most literate computer person – especially since I have been a PC girl all my life and only recently converted to my MacBook four months ago…and this week at work felt especially unproductive and dehabilitating because I couldn’t connect to the internet at least 75% of the time, to check work e-mail and such.

My waiter asked me after Lea left, “Miss, where are you from?” I should explain that I get that a lot here, since Philippines is so close to Indonesia and we have a lot of similar physical characteristics. Actually, I find myself hearing more often than not, “Your face is Indonesian.” Makes me feel like I at least fit in appearance-wise, but then I open my mouth and every Indonesian can hear my Michigan accent for miles! I told him that I am from America but my family is from Philippines, and he walked away shortly after, seeming satisfied with that information. He came back, though, after seeing me give up trying to connect to internet at Benton and starting to pack up my things to go to Supermal Karawaci, a two minute walk away, and said “Miss, you seem so busy…” When he said that, it broke my heart to think that I have been this way all of my life – filling my hands and life with things in order to appear busy, and just to keep people away. I explained my situation with sms-ing people and trying to figure things and the internet out, and then I decided to ask him how long he has been working, and where he lives. My heart broke even more when he shared with me, even if it was brief…

“I have been working for three years,” he said. He lives in Cikokol [chi-co-col], about 30 minutes from Lippo Karawaci, and he works for nine hours a day. That might seem typical, but he looked so young, maybe a little bit younger than I am, and I just thought about everything he didn’t say. That he couldn’t afford to attend university, or maybe he did finish his first diploma but couldn’t find a job outside of the hospitality, and serving realm. I see this every day here in Indonesia. People without access to higher education cannot possibly have the qualifications to get higher skilled jobs, which pay more money. To work at somewhere a waiter in a restaurant like the young man I was talking to today is not the most coveted job at somewhere in the world like the United States. People attend universities and seek higher education just so that they don’t have to work in jobs like these, so that they can aspire to something higher.

I just feel so challenged, because I took things like an education at the University of Michigan for granted, even complaining about my homework loads, and even about professors who couldn’t fathom just how much homework I had from my other classes! I see now what a privilege it was to be able to attend any sort of institute of higher education, and I feel challenged about what I will do with what I have, and to challenge others to think the same.

I also have to admit tangentially that I have been very exhausted over the past couple of weeks. I think I caught a virus last week that had me feeling so tired, even though work was not particularly the kind where I had to overexert myself. This week, I realize it is lack of sleep – partly lack of discipline on my part to go to bed at decent hours, when I have the opportunity to, and partly because of things that have to be done here out of necessity. In any case, I found myself not being able to see straight one day, walking dizzily down the stairs at work and struggling to stay awake. I do feel so weary sometimes, and realized that day that I have been operating out of my own capacity and my own strength.

I remembered the verses in Isaiah 40:30-31, which say something like [not verbatim], “But they that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like the eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not grow faint.” Weary and faint were exactly the right words to describe just how I felt. I looked up the word “wait” that day, because I wanted to know what it meant to get that strength from God – like, really know it. I realized that waiting is not just an eager anticipation of something delayed or something not attained, but I realize also that waiting on the Lord has been very much a me-centered thing. I wait on him for strength, I wait on him for things that I can get – for me! – rather than waiting on him, as in really, genuinely wanting to execute every single action in my life to meet his needs (as if God has any, because he is so big and he is God…) and to live my life as a person in waiting, waiting on this being who I claim to be my King, to live my life as to satisfy the desires of his heart, as opposed to mine. To wait, as if to serve, to be a servant, to be a waiter upon him. I felt extremely encouraged and refreshed as I was meditating on these things during my lunch time (which was spent outside, in a thatched hut classroom, listening to the rain!) Refreshed to think that I can find my strength and rest from being weak, and from total and utter dependence upon Christ.

Really easy for me to pity the waiter I had spoken with from this morning, even just a few minutes ago. And then I look at myself, this kid who has spent all of her life building up her resume with things and accomplishments just to aspire to something greater. But what if something greater is found in those things that are the least? In aspiring not upwards, but to the things that seem so lowly in the eyes of the world? So, where do I want to go from here? In the physical sense, I plan to pack up my computer in the next few minutes and jet home and shower and run back to the bus station to Jakarta. But in the heart-sense, I have no idea where I will be in a year, what I will be doing, what direction God wants me to go in – but I do know this: I want to be waiting on the Lord. I want to be a waiter.

::on thanksgiving::

I really miss fall, actually. I miss it so much in fact that I have a picture of autumn-ripened vines draped over the University of Michigan Law School (the side facing South Quad, my former domicile of two of my college years, of course) as my desktop – and also my screen saver is autumn leaves, which appears every time I step away from my desk. (Yet another reason for my colleagues in the Lokal Marketing department to believe that I truly am crazy…) [Side note: my mother recently sent me some Michigan leaves from home, which is helping the autumn withdrawal. Thanks, Marme].

University of Michigan Law School (Fall 2007) (no, this is not Indonesia)

I always think Thanksgiving when it comes to fall, and I am happy to write that we are currently gearing up for our first Thanksgiving Dinner in Indonesia, and it has been really interesting scavenging for the availability of traditional Thanksgiving foods. (We have a couple here at HMCC of Jakarta who work in the US Embassy, and have two 16 lb – US sized – turkeys standing up in their freezer, waiting for us to dress and stuff them at the end of the month! One of the challenges has been finding ovens in which to actually bake the turkeys, because many Indonesian homes are not actually outfitted with them, including our own apartments. Fortunately, some of our life group members do have ovens – and I am sure you will be reading about our Thanksgiving preparations and dinner towards the end of the month. Stay tuned!)

Thanksgiving preparations have challenged me on the thankful heart. Yesterday, I had a fleeting moment of homesickness as I was thinking about keeping in touch with people from home. My roommate Sarah and I were in our room last night, talking about correspondence with people, and it was the first time I admitted to myself in the almost four months that I have been away from home that sometimes I do feel so disconnected, and to say that I feel like I am experiencing how it feels to be on the receiving end of “out of sight, out of mind.” I don’t mention these things, though, to elicit a barrage of e-mails or blog comments or snail mail. Really. I mention it because it is easy for me to jump to all sorts of conclusions when I don’t hear from people for a while – too busy to contact me, don’t care about me, they forgot about me. As soon as I thought about those things, I felt like Princess Mia (Anne Hathaway) in “Princess Diaries” at her coronation speech, telling her audience all of her excuses for not wanting to accept the crown because “I am not this or that” and then she says poignantly, “And then I realized how many stupid times a day I say the word ‘I’.” How easy to become inwardly focused as things here have settled somewhat into a routine!

And then I remembered all of the relationships we are building with people here, and seeing some of them challenged to love Christ even more. I thought about the people who have been curious to know more about this Jesus and why he is worthy of our worship. I also thought about the people who do write (e-mails, snail mail, even packages!) on a somewhat regular basis (thank you!) – and are even lifting up prayers for our team, even though I might not see any sort of electronic or paper proof of it (thank you so much!) (Actually, I shouldn’t be pointing fingers, because I myself am actually very behind on correspondence with people outside of Indonesia…I hope that those of you awaiting those well-thought out responses I promised weeks ago will allow me to impose upon your patience for a little while longer...) I felt very foolish to realize the ungratefulness of my heart, and that I need that heart of thanksgiving every day – whether I am at home where everything is comfortable and familiar, or luar negeri [overseas; luar – out, negeri – country].

Since being away, I know I am learning things that might be very basic – but still important. I am learning that it is one thing to learn lessons that shape our character – and it is another thing to continue to apply those lessons faithfully in our lives everyday. (Easier said than done!) This is also probably basic and obvious for anyone reading this, but I guess I myself had to come to Indonesia to realize this! Thanksgiving (which I am so excited for at the end of this month!) is an attitude of the heart, and having settled into a routine and experiencing the grind of working 8 hours and then “doing” ministry during and after, I realize how important it is that followers of Christ are “transformed by the renewing of [our] minds.” I can learn or realize thankfulness, but it is effectively useless unless I practice it everyday. I hope some of you, no matter where in the world you are reading this, can be challenged also to have a heart of thanksgiving every day.

And to anyone reading this, “I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you I always pray with joy…” especially to the believers, “because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this: that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus…”

in pictures

I haven't been posting pictures lately because my camera freaks out every time I plug it into my computer - or any other computer, for that matter. Courtesy of Rachel Lee's computer, I was able to grab pictures off of my SD card (the only impetus being that I gave a presentation about my work and domestic workers, at Sekolah Pelita Harapan at a class for one of my Life Group members - Mr. Eric - and I wanted to share with the students some of my pictures with the TKW from work, that I also show below). And now without further ado, I give you, in no particular order, glimpses of my life here, in pictures:

::September babies:: Karissa and I at our Team dinner on my birthday. And the candles on my cake really do confirm my age in my heart - five years old. (Oh, and the awesome red bag on my right is from my dear roommate, Ruth Gao).

Post-karaoke. L-R: Yumiko, Anita, me, Frency, Sam, Irene, and John
Yumiko is an Accounting student at UPH, and our neighbor from 15B. Anita was connected to us by Frency, who works with my roommate Rachel at Sekolah Pelita Harapan.

My LCG Lea! I found out over dinner one night that she and I were born in the same year, four days apart. Lea teaches Bahasa Indonesia at SPH, and has been helping me to learn more of the language here. We have been going deeper into the Word each time we meet with one another. I am learning so much from her about culture and character, and I praise God that our paths were able to cross here in Indonesia!

::Game Night:: I love this picture because everyone is laughing hysterically. To be honest, I can't remember why, but I love seeing the enjoyment experienced within the community.

::teman-teman baru [new friends]:: Ika (far right) was one of the first people in the library to share vulnerably with me about her life. She flew to Hong Kong in the middle of September. It's so hard to say goodbye to new friends, but a joy to share life while they are here, and to wish them the best as they go on their way. I feel challenged by people like Ika because she is my age, and is brave enough to go overseas and do menial work, all in the pursuit of seeing their dreams for a better life come true.

Praying during our Inaugural Sunday Celebration

One of my favorite pictures here, ever. Notice Irene peering up at Sam like a creeper. This was taken at Ace Hardware, while we were looking for Christmas lights. The sign says "Terima Kasih - Anda sudah berhati-hati diarea ligthing" [Thank you in advance for your caution in the lighting area] except the most significant word on the sign to us that day was "diarea." (Yes, we are very mature).

Planning for Operation Campus Reach at Universitas Pelita Harapan (UPH), at apartment 6F (also known as Home Sweet Home)

Irene and I at Viper (Villa Permata), for a team dinner. In front of us is a fried, flying fish - which was subsequently devoured. And yes, it was very delicious (enak sekali) (and I can't figure out how to rotate this picture, sorry...)

Hotel Indonesia Traffic Circle, Central Jakarta. I saw a picture of this once before moving to Indonesia and I love seeing for myself things I thought I would only dream about seeing. This picture caught the fountain at a moment when traffic was just ahead of and behind our car - otherwise, Jakarta is always traffic, traffic!

Sam, reading to us before starting life group on Wednesday. I love this picture because I realized after the fact that in it are our three target groups (L-R): (1) expatriates living and working in Indonesia (Eric, a teacher originally from Montana, working at Sekolah Pelita Harapan); (2) Indonesian nationals (Iwan, a P.E. teacher at SPH); and (3) Indonesians who have studied abroad and returned to Indonesia (Grace Liu, Michigan Alum '08)

::Sharing life:: At the canteen, with the TKW. The two women on my right, Dwi and Daisy, flew to Hong Kong yesterday to start their new two year contracts and I miss them dearly already. I used to cry as I was learning more about the plight of Indonesian migrant workers overseas, and I think that the things that they experience are important to know about (see links in upper right-hand corner of this blog). But when I see these women and hear their stories, I have been challenged to hope the best for them rather than pity. Dreams are their inspiration for bearing through the menial work, "for my future," they always say.

::Lunch at Supermal Karawaci with our new friends::

L-R: Joe, Irene, Hendry (Karawaci Life Group), John, Alex (JKT Life Group), Lucas (Karawaci Life Group), David (JKT Life Group), Darvin (JKT Life Group)

Hendry returned recently to Indonesia after having studied in the States. Alex is from Bekasi, just east of Jakarta and is a singer. Lucas also returned recently from studying abroad, in Vancouver. David works for ASEAN in the Singapore Embassy. Darvin studied at the University of Texas at Austin, and returned to Indonesia a few years ago. He is currently doing theological studies here in Jakarta. It really is all about connections and relationships here in Indonesia. Here's a (hopefully) simple diagram about how these people were connected to us:

Hendry - Amelia (Grace Liu's colleague) - Grace Liu - JKT Team

Alex - Sassha (David's friend from church) - David - Grace Liu - JKT Team
Lucas - Grace Liu - JKT Team
Darvin - David - Grace Liu - JKT Team

I walked outside to write some e-mails during lunch one day, and ended up having an impromptu photo shoot with some of the women - many of them who attend our Friday Bible study. This is just after they were sharing their impian [dreams] with me (one wants to start her own business, a car wash; one wants a beautiful house and a car; one wants to continue in her studies). Dreams I might have ordinarily considered simple, things I took for granted before... Challenges me to be thankful for everything I have experienced, to see that the best things in life aren't really things - and how special to have community, no matter where one is in the world!

Thanks for looking/reading! More next time...

randomness

7 Oktober, Hari Rabu [Wednesday] ::season of mists and natural disasters:: Keats would probably be horrified with my replacement of the “mellow fruitfulness” part of his famous verse – but it isn’t so mellow here as I’m sure most, if not all, of you are aware of the devastation wrought by the earthquake last Wednesday in Padang, West Sumatra and the Tropical Storm Ketsana (Ondoy) in Luzon, Philippines so I won’t pretend to be a news source, because I’m not. Initially, it was easy to feel detached from both incidents, as life went on as usual [biasa] here in Jabotabek (Jakarta-Bogor-Tangerang-Bekasi). We are on the island of Java and were spared from the tremors that resulted in the demolition of entire villages and loss of life in our neighbor to the west, Sumatra.

While we were driving to eat Padang food (cuisine famous throughout Indonesia for its spiciness) for lunch, the thought of overwhelming sadness finally registered as I sat processing the many stories I have read and heard and the pictures I have seen over the past week. After that spice-tolerance increasing makan siang [lunch] the sobering thought occurred to me: do I really need earthquakes and typhoons to feel broken for people who are dying in droves? Or is my heart burning for people dying inside their hearts, natural disasters or not?

3 Oktober, Hari Sabtu [Saturday] ::Rp. 35,000 sepatu-sepatu; or, on the absence of personal space:: After my first adventure almost alone into Jakarta (hopped on the Lippo Bus like a big girl all by myself but was joined randomly by my teammate John Eom, who was also going into the city…) I met up with my LCG (life change group) accountability partner Deborah. A young twenty-something from China, she has lived in Jakarta for two years, teaching Mandarin at one of the international schools here. Our rendezvous point was the Plaza Semanggi – one of the myriad shopping malls that take up space in the Jakarta skyline. As we ambled through the mall, I saw a pair of adorable grey patent flats selling for Rp 50,000 ($5.00 USD) – but I think since moving here, I have been developing enough self-control regarding my ridiculous shoe fetish to recognize that those shoes were a want rather than a need. Shortly afterwards, we saw these signs at another shoe store: “SALE: Rp. 35,000 ($3.50 USD).” One reading this can only imagine the sea of jilbab [Bahasa Indonesia term for hijab, or head covering worn by Muslim women], the different colors worn by the women who were swarming the sale.

Deborah and I endeavored to enter the shoe store, and I felt myself being fairly pushed in by the women behind me eager to coba [tʃo’ba] (try) on the sepatu-sepatu murah [cheap shoes]. Deborah somehow managed to get to a corner of the store, where she was had enough elbow room to pass yours truly flats of almost every color and style imaginable in a span of 5 minutes. I was a willing recipient because I was caught in the very middle of the store, surrounded on all sides by women going crazy for the cheap shoes. Literally, I could not move because of all the women with their backs to me, pushing and shoving while trying to find shoes of the right size and color. Having grown up in the land where individualism is king, I have grown up valuing my personal space – so it’s easy to get frustrated regarding the violation of my personal space. And while I was caught in the middle (envying Deborah, who was smiling as she passed shoes to me over the jilbab sea), my mind went to the multitudes that Jesus stared out at with compassion in his heart, and thought about whether or not I could still love the crowds like Jesus did when I am caught in situations like this – and I am finding this crowdedness to be an increasingly common situation as I get to know Jakarta better. It’s actually not such an easy question to answer, but I want my answer to be yes…) (oh, and I didn’t end up buying any shoes – yay self-control!)

::laundry day:: After breaking the news regarding the Olympics to my roommate Sarah, a native Chicagoan, on Saturday morning, I undertook the task of washing the sheets of the king-sized bed that Ruth and I share. I seriously think that laundry here should be considered an Olympic sport. Here in our apartment, our washing machine capacity is large enough to fit our king-sized comforter and nothing else – hence any other sheets on the bed and pillowcases must be washed separately. Since our apartments did not come furnished with a dryer, you will probably laugh at imagining that the women of 6F have become increasingly resourceful when it comes to drying things! For example, I draped our damp comforter over four chairs in our living room to let it dry during the afternoon, when Ruth and I would be in the city, and started the second load – the sheets and pillowcases. I was thinking as I was carrying the wet and cumbersome comforter that I would have loved to throw it and our sheets and pillowcases into a large washer and dryer just one time and then finish everything within an hour, hour and a half…

Thoughts of large capacity washers and dryers made me think very hard about my life as I knew it back in the States. I think God wants us to have nice things, but I feel challenged when I think about the people of Indonesia who live in the villages, and even here in Jakarta, who make only Rp. 5,000 ($0.50 USD) a day – making do. Do they have enough for their physical needs? And once those physical needs are met, do I care about their spiritual needs and the condition of their hearts? How is it that I deserve to have access to everything I have ever needed or wanted, just because I was born somewhere else in the world? Thinking about them has challenged me to be thankful for what I have, or as the sticker on my dad’s rear-view mirror says, “contentment.” Whenever I go back, I will have access to everything I need and more than I want. It’s funny to think of the things I appreciate more now that I am here – from paper towel, to hot showers, and drying machines. When those things are more readily available to me, am I just going to forget the things I am learning here or will the lessons really go deep down in my heart?

5 Oktober, Hari Senin [Monday] ::engagement:: No, I am not talking about the kind where an important four-word question is popped, and in fortuitous situations, the answer is in the affirmative and subsequently results in nuptials at a later date. (And no, I am not engaged in that way.) (This morning I learned the phrase, “it’s not the right time” in Bahasa Indonesia [bukan waktu yang tepat] from my colleague Elvy in the Cashier’s Office. I was there because I had to make change and get smaller bills, since I think our denominations are outrageous. Hard to get change from our taksi drivers in the morning, as was the case today). I am talking about the kind where one is engaged in the physical realm, as well as the spiritual realm – at the same time. Can I make and analyze reports for Jeffrey (e.g. best friends with Excel), while praying continually and having that oneness of fellowship with God?

5 Oktober, Hari Senin [Monday] ::falling in love:: I saw a boy and his mother on a bike this morning. He had to have been anywhere from six to eight years old. He looked so small in her arms, in a white collared shirt, eyes wide open to the world. She rang the bell on the bike, and he seemed delighted at the sound, even though she couldn’t see his face. It was like I could hear the wind at his mother’s back as they biked on, oblivious to everything – even me, staring at them from the taksi window. As I watched them disappear from my sight, I thought back to the words of a classmate of mine, who I last saw in Ann Arbor when he returned there for a wedding last year: “I know you are going to fall in love with the culture, fall in love with the food, and fall in love with the people – maybe that one special person…” And after three months here I can say that (with the exception of the last item on his list) he was spot on.

::the rains came down:: It’s rainy season here. Sarah thinks that with the season change came more spiritual battle. Lately, I am especially sensitive to how much I am ruled by my emotions and get frustrated when I cannot fathom how I can go from being very happy to the point of humming and dancing (yes, the people in my department think I am crazy...) to feeling sad and depressed within the span of an hour. As you are thinking about us and praying for us, pray for a Spirit of unity among our team members, for our protection, and so that we can be in step with the Spirit – that we get the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, to know the heart of God better and that the eyes of our hearts are opened to the things unseen in the spiritual realms.

dua puluh empat: twenty-four

Afraid I don't have time to write the million things running around in my head regarding the closing of the Lebaran season coinciding with a new year of my life. But, courtesy of our neighbor Yumiko: pixelated and post-karaoke on Saturday night should suffice for at least 1,000 of the words I intend to write at some point...

L-R: Yumiko, Anita, yours truly, Frency, Irene

And for those of you who thought of me, thanks for remembering me on my special day.

nasi gila [crazy rice] and other adventures...

::I wrote this two days ago, and since then I have gone paintballing for the first time in my life, in a jungle scene from out of a movie (!) and went today to the infamous Mangga Dua shopping center, the craziest set of shopping malls I have ever seen (e.g. small stalls with people vending their cheap wares like crazy, people everywhere bargaining for these things, and personal space = non-existent). I'll write about that adventure for sure next time...::

My cousin Marie says that her favorite blog entries are the ones that cover the happenings of the day. I love these too, but many times I feel compelled to write about more than just the mundane – even though the every day details are the things that everyone can identify with easiest and best. I have to agree with my roommate Ruth from a previous blog entry of hers that everyday has been different and extraordinary in its own way. Yesterday, as we are still on holiday, was no exception.

::A brief overview of yesterday:: Shortly after writing my last post and having spent the morning portion of the day with my roommate Rachel, I left Times Bookstore to join Ruth at home for a session of yogalates (or yoga + pilates). Exercise is extremely necessary here, as half of us are employed in sedentary desk jobs that require little physical activity, other than typing – yet cheap and delicious food is in abundance everywhere we turn! (We actually look quite hilarious while trying to imitate the instructor, flailing and struggling as we balance precariously over our beach towels – also known as yoga mats!)

After yogalates and just before leaving for a life group hangout in Jakarta, Sarah, Irene, and I had our first jam session in the living room. For those of you who don’t know, my roommate Sarah has perfect pitch and can play the guitar without having to rely on chord charts. Irene, known affectionately as a “Diva” to those who know her well, sings on our worship team (which consists currently of John on guitar and Rachel on keys). Sarah is also teaching Irene tambourine and the shaker, so that Irene can also contribute percussion to our Sunday Celebration worship. Irene got to practice yesterday while the three of us sang together, in three-part harmony (!) It was such a joy to sing and worship with my roommates, since I have never had more than one roommate, and I have never jammed with roomies to this point in my life.

And singing for me is yet another thing where I am still trying to find my voice. It’s something I’ve loved to do since I was little – in the shower of course, because the water was loud enough to drown me out. And when I was by myself, because I loved to do it so much but was so afraid of what others would think. I was horrified at the thought of rejection, hence keeping it to myself all of these years. At one point while the three of us were singing, I felt like the song in my heart was like a caged bird, the beating of my heart being the wings fluttering, trying to get out…and the only way to let it out was to let whatever came out of my mouth be a worship for God. And regardless of how I sound, that impromptu worship session was beautiful. And I am glad that there is still some time for many more.

After wrapping up our jam session, the three of us rushed downstairs to meet Rachel and our new friend Sassha to drive to Jakarta to meet members of our life group there for dinner and bowling! We adore bowling in Ann Arbor, especially the $1.00 bowling nights. Here in Jakarta, it cost Rp. 75,000 – approximately $7.50 USD – for two games and shoes. A pretty penny for people with Indonesian salaries! Our new friends from the Universitas Pelita Harapan volleyball team joined us. We met them because Ruth and Sarah and John were brave enough to go after work to the UPH gym next door and ask to play with the volleyball team. Since they invest much of their energy to volleyball, bowling didn’t come so naturally to some of them initially, but we were amazed to see how quickly they learned. Lots of cheering going on in lanes 9-12 yesterday at the bowling alley, as each team competed for the highest score.

I thought that bowling was going to be the highlight of the night, and then our new friend Edwin (the cousin of Joanna and Louisa Halim, Michigan alumnae ’05 and ’04 respectively) said, “I want to introduce you guys to nasi gila,” [literal translation: “crazy rice."] You can imagine the thought that was going through all of our heads, and was eventually said out loud: “What is crazy rice?” Edwin grinned mischievously and said, “you’ll see…” John asked, “Wait…is it crazy because of what’s in it, or is it crazy because of what we will experience tomorrow after eating it?” Joanna smiled and said, “Both.”

John had asked the question because Jakarta is known for its cuisine, “Street Food.” This savory fare is prepared, cooked, and served on the streets of Jakarta from stalls on wheels known as kaki lima or five feet. Here is a description from Culture Shock: Jakarta: “The cheapest, and arguably the most authentic Indonesian food, is that sold by the kaki lima. These are five-legged, two-wheeler, mobile restaurants – meals on wheels – which hawk their wares day and night, albeit by a schedule...The kaki lima washing up facilities are never very advanced, limited usually to a bucket and any running water there happens to be nearby. Supplying your own plate and watching the food cooked with your own eyes should dispel any fears you may have about hygiene.” (230)

I was going to post pictures from my roommate Ruth’s camera, but unfortunately I haven’t gotten a chance to get them from here. You’ll just have to imagine the everythingness that was nasi gila: chicken, sausage, mystery meat, eggs, and whatever else have you (we were in the dark, so we couldn’t quite see everything) piled over white rice. We learned from a missionary friend of Rachel’s father this simple yet powerful concept a couple of weeks ago: “If you don’t know what it is, don’t ask – just eat it!” It was interesting to see our venue - some dingy plastic chairs and stools, imitation wood fold up tables, and a bright light with nyamuk [mosquitos] dancing illuminated (and subsequently biting every bit of exposed flesh on yours truly et. al) - with the kaki lima, juxtaposed with the houses of diplomats and ambassadors on Jalan Thamrin. The mixture I couldn’t quite see was definitely delicious (and I definitely ran to the refrigerator once we got home last night and gulped down a probiotic drink to combat any of the bacteria that my body might not agree with)… a welcome spontaneous adventure!

In summary, I got to spend quality time with each one of my roommates yesterday while doing things that I love; got to know people in our life group better while experiencing the enjoyment part of LIFE (love, investment, faith, enjoyment) Group...and I mentioned all of that because just like the nasi gila, the day was a mixture of everything! Thanks for reading!

regarding time, or more ramblings from Times

I'm sitting opposite my roommate Rachel, who is staring intently at her computer - probably wedding planning and thinking about a million other things on her to-do list. We are at a cafe called the Imperial Cakery, located on the second floor of Times Bookstore - a fusion of Borders and Barnes & Noble for bookstore lovers.

It is Lebaran, the end of the Ramadhan season when Indonesian Muslims pulang[return home] to their hometowns and villages to celebrate the buka puasa [breaking fast] with their families and loved ones. I have to say, between getting settled in to a new home and country and working 8:30 am - 4:30 pm (we went home earlier for the month of September during Ramadhan, due to truncated lunch times) and life group on Tuesdays and Wednesdays after work, and spending other days meeting up with our new LCGs (life change group) and team meetings and preparing for Sunday Celebrations...the break is much needed and much appreciated. During the time of fasting, my teammates and I committed to fasting during the bulan puasa [fasting month].

Overall, the women of 6F (e.g., my roommates and I) - with individual modifications - kept our fasting like that of the Muslims: fast during the daylight hours, and break fast at sundown. My colleague Asnal from Human Resources, a devout Muslim, was sharing with me one day that they fast to purge themselves of their dosa, or sins. I shared with him that Christians fast not only to remind ourselves that yes, we are sinful and need to repent daily, but also so that when hunger pangs arrive, we can challenge ourselves to think, "Do I need God more than I need food?" While I have to admit that those were not always my thoughts whenever the hunger pangs came, I have to say that God was doing a great work of surfacing things in my heart during the fasting season...I mentioned this vaguely in an earlier post, and I will continue to be vague. Suffice to say that it has been painful to face some of the hurtful words and memories and experiences - these root causes of things that have shaped who I have become, but freeing at the same time. And on the brink of turning a year wiser, I realize that I can make decisions to not continue in these ways of thinking, in these patterns that are harmful to me and those I love. And now I am rambling...

There was a sign for a writing competition in the window of Times the week we moved into our apartments, which are located a stones throw away from this bookstore. I think the topic was "Time is a powerful concept. How will you use it?" I'll be honest and say that I wanted to win that competition when I found out about it...but unfortunately, even though I spent hours free associating, my creative juices were not flowing in the way that I could come up with anything substantial to submit since I found out about it very last minute. I'm still not even really sure what I would have written about...

But I mention that because during this holiday break, I have been reflecting on where I was a year ago. A year ago, I was in Kalamazoo feeling sorry for myself, feeling inadequate and without enough work experience to find a job in an economy where more jobs were being lost every day...feeling envious of friends who had gotten their big breaks with jobs and future plans, all prior to graduation - and that's all well and good. By envious, I actually mean proud and happy...but really, I did feel like God had forgotten me and the waiting and the monotony of waiting were driving me crazy. I was trying to get back to Ann Arbor, "for ministry," I said so optimistically...when really, I didn't have a clue - and still don't many times here in Indonesia.

I remember praying one day at the end of August last year, "Lord, I just want a job...I will go anywhere, do anything, whenever you want me to do it..." and I got a call for an interview with the Tax & Accounting business of Thomson Reuters. It's funny because I really thought that it was for a job, that happened to end nine months later, which would give me the opportunity to come to this place. I had only ever seen Times in a picture, and I never dreamed that I would be living next door to it, and reflecting from it. I never realized that when I prayed that prayer out of desperation, that Ann Arbor was not the only place that God had in mind for me...but his plans reached so much further. And even though I am in Indonesia writing this, they still reach even further than this.

I can't believe that a year ago, I felt so discouraged without a job and without direction...and now that I am here, I can't even count the number of days on my hand when I didn't know what to do with my time (actually, last night was a first...since we didn't have work, we had a roomies day and wandered around the mall, cleaned, and watched a Korean movie "My Son" that evening that had all of us crying buckets and finished around 9:30 pm - and still so early, what to do?!)

The in-between times and the times of waiting are precious. And now that I have more than I wanted - a workplace that I love, a church I am learning to love more and more every day - I am humbled by God's faithfulness, and humbled to think that I should need proof like this that God was still thinking about me and loves me. So this was a lot less factual (And I wish it were more...I never really know what to write about sometimes but I trust that some of you can fill in the details with entries from my roommates/teammates), a lot more rambly (such as I am)...I challenge you if you are in an in-between time to trust in God and his faithfulness. In the meantime, I will try and come up with more factual sharings to post for next time...

Sampai nanti! [Until later!]

worship in the workplace

It started with the library chats. We have a library here at Pt. Yonasindo Intra Pratama (called the Self Access Center, and I think it deserves a post entirely to itself. That later, only because I am still working on it…) I visit the library during lunch or istirahat [rest time] since it is Ramadan now and a majority of the people here are fasting rather than eating. The TKW who work in the library speak English very well, as a result of their previous overseas working experiences in Singapore. From my initial conversations with these women, I found out that they were twenty-somethings like my roommates working here at Yonasindo and me. I decided to keep returning to the library after one woman shared openly about her life the second time I ever saw her. I feel a sense of utility by being a listening ear, a sense of honor that they would share their life experiences with me so vulnerably and honestly, and challenged to be as genuine as they are with me.

My first librarian friend Urfa flew to Hong Kong a couple of weeks ago. A cheerful and tiny face framed by black hair cropped close to her head, she was a welcome sight at noon every day. She and her friend Ika were the first to confide in me their frustrations and heartaches, even sharing that they felt they couldn’t trust anyone else but each other, that the other women tell their secrets, and that at night they cry about any hurts from wounds past and current. As they shared, my past heartaches seemed trivial in comparison and I realized that I had nothing to offer them. Experience, maybe. Empathy and sympathy, sure – but these things do not heal broken hearts.

What I could offer was to introduce these women and others like them to a wounded Healer. And I was able to do it with the aid of a new friend from Universitas Pelita Harapan (the university right next door to Kondominium Golf Karawaci – also known as home) whose father works for the Gideon Society. The Gideons are people who provide free New Testaments to anyone who wants one, because they believe that the Word of God is “living and active, sharper than any two edged sword,” and that what they have experienced as a result of reading the Bible is something that they want to share with anyone who wants it. At my request, my new friend got me some Bahasa Indonesia/English New Testaments for me. I wanted to put these in the library because the New Testament is also known as the Injil in Islam and I knew that my new friends would be open to reading something familiar to them from their own religion. Ika had borrowed from the library How to Heal a Broken Heart in 30 Days, and even though I am sure the author of that book had good intentions, I am not sure that all heartache can heal in that period of time. I was able to give her a New Testament/Injil before she flew to Hong Kong last Thursday. Please pray that as she reads it, that she can experience for herself healing and transformation in her heart!

Miss Santi in administration from our Training Department saw the New Testaments sitting on my desk last week, and asked for one. We had a conversation about a month over lunch one day about her religious background. She said that she and her husband were Catholic, but didn’t elaborate much after that so I was surprised that she was interested in a New Testament. She shared with me that she used to meet with some of the Christian TKW and worship and pray together, but they stopped because all of them had already flown to new locations. She said that there were some here, but they hadn’t met together in a while – and could she speak with the head of Human Resources and Training and organize a meeting for Friday?

I didn’t think she was serious until I was sitting in the library on Thursday, where my new librarian friend Daisy said out of the blue, “I will join you tomorrow for your Bible study.” I was surprised because Daisy is Muslim, but had said to me last Wednesday as she was closing the library, “Can you keep a secret? ... I want to learn about Jesus, from my heart.” I like to think that I am generally good at keeping secrets but I decided to share this one so that you can pray that Daisy can have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, and that she can see that he is and is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him.

Regarding the Friday meeting that ended up happening, I don’t know what I was thinking in terms of what I ever had to offer to people, especially when it comes to ministry. Maybe I was thinking that it was my knowledge of lyrics for worship songs that we sing every Sunday, or what I have been learning during my endeavor to read through the Bible in a year, or even all of these years of knowing how to go to church and more recently, the things I have been learning by being a part of this church plant.

We met in the nurse’s room, where the TKW learn about elderly care and infant care there. The room had the blinds drawn, so it was fairly dark, with enough sunlight streaming in for us to see our surroundings and each other. On entering the room, there was a queen-sized bed with a faded green and yellow coverlet to the left, and shelves laden with worn children’s toys to the right. In the middle of the room was a foam puzzle mat, with the letters of the alphabet on each puzzle piece – kind of like the one we have in the Building Blocks room back in Ann Arbor. The faded colors and floor peering through the spaces where various letters used to be was the backdrop for our song sheets, with three songs written in Bahasa Indonesia. I had never heard the melodies before, and I did not understand half of the words.

There were eight TKW, two women from Training, one woman from Accounting, and my three roommates and I, all sitting in a circle on and around the foam mat. We didn’t have a guitar, and no accompaniment…just women’s voices singing earnestly to their King and Lover of our souls. Even though I didn’t understand the words, through the simple and earnest worship, I could feel the Holy Spirit in our midst. We studied Matthew 6:25-34, the “Do Not Worry” passage, with verse 25 opening with, “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink or what you will wear…” addressing how we become anxious about so many things in our lives, and emphasizing from verse 32 that “your heavenly Father knows that you need them,” or the things that we worry about. I knew that this passage was particularly significant for these women, who have opted into a life of domestic work [servitude] because they worry about money, their personal safety when they go overseas (with reason), and their future. When we entered into a time of prayer, Miss Santi prayed for us, and her voice tremored. My roommate Irene grabbed my hand as we were praying, and I gripped hers as I listened with my eyes closed to the other women crying quietly in agreement with Miss Santi’s sincere supplication.

I thought to myself the whole time, from the start of the gathering to when I was walking back to my desk that I have never been in a financial circumstance in my life where Jesus was all I had. Even when things or people have been taken away from me, I have always had other things to distract me – school, work, family, a house, a room full of things that I don’t need. I was humbled to hear these women crying when we prayed to Jesus, because even if they may have their families and their homes, many of them are going to work overseas because they don’t have the means to support themselves through work here. Living here in the compound, the women cannot leave in general – attending a church service on a Sunday included. But we didn’t have to leave in order to have church that day; we were the Church.

Afterwards, Miss Santi fed all of us with delicious lo mein looking noodles cooked by her husband. It was a joy to fellowship with the TKW, and even to surprise them by serving them (!), and try as we might in our broken Bahasa Indonesia to learn more about them and why they came here to Pt. Yonasindo. As I was leaving the nursing room to return to my desk, Miss Zara stopped me and made sure to ask if I believed that Jesus died on the cross to pay the penalty for my sin and then rose again to conquer it. Elvy from Accounting translated for me, and I just remember looking over at Miss Zara: a tiny elderly Chinese Indonesian woman clad in a periwinkle blue nursing dress, with a serious look on her face – serious because she cared about whether or not I believed in Jesus Christ with my heart. I laughed and assured her that I did and then it got me thinking...

It’s our heart to encourage these women to love one another, as Christ loved us, by laying his life down for us. And then to love their neighbors, the other TKW and office staff, as themselves – even though these women may be seen as lowly in the eyes of the office staff, and their future employers as they go out into the world from this place, for example. Encouraging them to ask the same kinds of questions that Miss Zara asked me, and encouraging others to experience a personal relationship with Christ. There’s no workplace in the world I’d rather be right now, and I thank you for reading all of this if you did, and please believe with us that “he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus,” (Philippians 1:6) here at Pt. Yonasindo Intra Pratama.