Would you like some "whine" with that cheese?

I really try so hard not to ever complain, but can I just say - It is soooo hot!

I feel lately like those words are continually coming out of my mouth: "I'm hot!"

And everywhere I go, I leave a puddle of sweat behind me. 

It's gross!

These days are the hottest of the year, and I know that the rainy season is just around the corner. Not that the rains provide much relief from the heat. If anything the rain makes everything more humid, but at least during rainy season, our electricity gets better.

Part of the problem these days is that we are having continual power outages. 

Power outages mean no air con.
And just so you know I'm not a wimp, the "feels-like" temperature has been averaging around 120 degrees Fahrenheit these days.

I know. I sound like a whiner.

Yesterday, I was trying to get dressed to go to our Sunday gathering place. I had taken a shower and even used the hair dryer (on the cool setting) to try to do something with this mop that's on my head these days. (This weather is killing my hair too!) Just about the time I finished, the power went out. I was at least thankful to have my hair done. Of course, the style didn't last long because within minutes, I was sweating so much that my hair was wet underneath from perspiration. Then I tried putting on makeup, but my face was damp from the sweat rolling down my face. I decided to just go with a little mascara and lipstick. (If you know anything about me, you know how completely UNLIKE me that is.)

I couldn't even put on my earrings because the sweat kept making them fall off. 

"This is ridiculous," I thought to myself.

I was anxious to get in the car to go because at least in there we can have cool air. Actually, it's only cool air when the car is moving. If we're sitting still, the air blows hot. But I am very thankful to have a car when so many others do not, so I'm not complaining about that.

When we arrived at the gathering place, I found us a spot next to an air con unit where I could sit directly beneath the wonderfully cool air. The service could last all day for all I care because at least where I was, it was refreshingly pleasant. 

I have been reading the book "To The Golden Shore" again about the life and times of Adoniram Judson. It's a completely engrossing book that I can't put down until finished, so if you've never read it, I highly recommend it. Anyway, Judson lived in the exact place where we are now. The book recounts his agony of enduring the excruciating heat of this place as well, but in those days they had no electricity EVER. They had hand fans and that's about all. 

I can't fathom it. 

It's no wonder they were sick all the time.

See, now I feel bad for complaining about the heat. 

There's always someone who has worse problems than you, right?

So I won't complain anymore.

A week in the life...

In a recent newsletter, I offered to answer questions about living overseas that anyone would like to ask. The question most often received was, "What does a normal week look like?"
The answer to that question is, "There is no normal week."
Every week is astoundingly different. (Is that even a word?!?)
This city is a juxtaposition in itself with areas of both impoverishment and extreme wealth.
There are people who are highly educated and those who have never been to school because necessity led them to begin work very early in their life. There are people who were born and raised in this culture and then many who are transplants from other countries (especially other Asian countries.)
Different backgrounds, different ideologies, different problems, different demands - we face all these polarities in the people who live here, yet our job is to work with them all.
That's why each week (each day sometimes) we find ourselves in completely different situations.
There is, however, an overall pattern that has figured into our lives that I will attempt to share through pictures to show our friends at home what "normal" looks like in this amazing and beautiful city.


The one constant so far in our time here has been where we live.
We love our apartment and are very thankful that we are able to live here into our second year of being in this place. As this city has opened up to the outside world, prices have increased considerably. Most of the expats we know living here have to move every year, because rent prices are doubling and tripling in places. Our apartment building is one of the largest in the city and is situated above a small "mall" with shopping and restaurants and a department store. We have made many friends with the people who come to work here everyday, and they are often are best source of information and news.

The other constant in our lives has been language learning which is something we do absolutely every single day.
We happen to have the best teachers who are both challenging and compassionate. We enjoy class time with them even though it's so difficult.
Most of our language classes are held inside our apartment, but my favorite classes are the ones where we go to our teacher's house. I love being in her community and getting to know the people who live near her.

Every Sunday we go to a local "gathering place" and three weeks out of four, it's a local language service we attend.
We don't understand most of what's said throughout the meeting because the speakers use a very formal form of the language, but it is a great opportunity for us to connect with local brothers and sisters.
The local language meeting places do not have air con, but they have fans throughout the building.

About once a month, we visit the international meeting place where everything is spoken in English so that we can get refilled and refueled for Father's service. Our children also need the camaraderie with believers their age who are encouragers and accountability partners in the midst of their predominantly non-believing environment.



Each week, we have a group of people who meet at our house for English language learning and Good Book study. This group has become family to us and we look forward to being with these funny, energetic and devoted friends.

We usually spend a fair amount of time each week, out and exploring various parts of our city. We enjoy learning about the habits and culture of the people this way. There are areas of great beauty and serenity in the midst of this bustling city.

We also inevitably spend a lot of time sitting in our car in traffic.

Sometimes we get to do special programs involving teaching or sharing. We love making new friends!

We often visit local tea shops.

And we even enjoy eating the local food - especially when it's homemade.

Sometimes we get to meet other foreigners who come to talk about the best ways to reach our city and how to provide programs to benefit the people living here. Sometimes we get to meet those people in nice restaurants which is always a treat. But the best part is making connections with people we might not have otherwise met in the States.

Of course everyday we get to spend time in the Word which is the most important thing that we do.

But the most fun part of being here is the quality time we get to spend together as a family.

What more could we ask for?

Many years ago, Father put this city on our hearts. We didn't know of the blessings that awaited us here.
Each week is often full of ups and downs, but the love we feel for the people here and the desire to do His work is what drives us. Then it's the joy of family and friends and other followers in faith that amplifies our endearment, making this place feel more and more like home.

Don't you want to come visit?
Our door is always open. Come join us!

What is love?

by Zoë Johnson

What is love?
Is it eating chocolate doves
or gazing up at the stars above?
Is is caring for others
or talking to our mothers
or is our life just filled with star-crossed lovers?
Is a friendship real?
Are our secrets really sealed?
Is it pulling out a ring
and bowing on one knee
or can love just be a happy family?
A relationship is a test
where you have to try your best.
Where a friendship is true
you can always be you.
You feel like a melody 
without any jealousy.
You have trust 
and it never fades to dust.
A relationship is rainbows and butterflies
or even dark blue skies
but that's what love is
as the nights go by.


Zoë had a school assignment to write about a kind of relationship or characteristics of a relationship. Ever the rapper at heart, she wrote a poem to describe her thoughts.

A puzzling concept

A few years ago, I bought a puzzle at a flea market. My family has always enjoyed doing jigsaw puzzles together, as it ends up being a good time for talking and laughing, reminiscing and planning while we pour over the pieces looking for just the right one to fit in an empty spot.
This particular puzzle that I bought was unusual in that it didn’t have a picture to use as a reference of what the puzzle should look like when complete. It was just 1000 random pieces jumbled in a bag.
When we got the puzzle home, we cleared off the cardboard table and started by finding all the outside edges. Eventually, we had the outline complete and slowly, piece by piece, a beautiful picture began to emerge.

Living in this country, some days are filled with frustration, friction and fatigue. Some days we question why we are even here.
But then we have days that feel like the puzzle pieces of our lives are coming together, and it’s a beautiful picture that the Great Artist is rendering.

How do you describe a heart that feels full?
How do you describe the warmth that comes from feeling the Father’s love shine down on you?
How do you describe the sensation of ultimate peace that washes over you when you are right where you are supposed to be?

As our family attempts to assimilate into this unique culture, I continually find myself feeling more and more at home. While skyping with some friends, I recently even described one of the local villages as reminding me of our beloved small town in Mississippi – a feat that could only come from Father changing my vision and my outlook.
After all, the homes of this village are mostly bamboo structures with little electricity or running water, but it’s the people who make the community what it is. From a second-story patio, I view two old friends cross paths at a nearby street corner where they stop to converse, likely sharing the latest neighborhood gossip.
A group of boys have begun an early morning game of “chin-lone” ball and their shouts of laughter penetrate above the din of buses and car horns.
A young mother dressed in her Sunday-best descends from a full bus with a small child in tow as she heads toward a local market. I imagine her shopping for the food her family will need for the week while teaching her young daughter how to navigate the chore that will inevitably become her responsibility.
It’s busy and sometimes noisy, but there’s a sense of routine that rises above the disorder. There’s a calm in the midst of the chaos that is somewhat predictable and comforting. The sounds become soothing and I find myself longing to sit in the shadow of the shelter it provides.

It was in this tranquil state of mind that we arrived at church on Sunday. It’s a local-language church and I was prepared to sit through the service while not understanding most of what was said.
There was a congregational reading and the lady next to me handed me a book and pointed to where we were. I can read the words of the circular script we’re learning (or at least sound them out) although I don’t usually know what they mean. Then we sang some hymns out of the old Baptist songbook translated into this language that I have memorized and could, thereby, participate.
I didn’t feel so out of place.
During the offering, a lady’s choir gathered at the front to perform. When they started singing, for a minute, I thought I was miraculously understanding their language when I realized they were singing in English.
“I come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses.”
As they began to sing, I recognized the song I’ve sung with my parents and my grandparents around the piano on countless occasions.
The song evoked such emotions that I felt as if my family were gathered around me and I realized right then that my picture-puzzle-life was complete.
In that moment, all the pieces fit perfectly together.
I can’t exactly explain how close I felt to Heaven at that point.
Here we are in this crazy, foreign place in a completely alien environment, but everything was just right.
It wasn’t because of the house we live in or the car we drive. It wasn’t because of the food we had eaten or all the material effects I possess.
It was just knowing and understanding that Father is real in my life; that He loves me and has placed me here for whatever reason He sees fit. It was recognizing that I am completely in His care and that He provides in abundance of my needs before I even know what those needs are.
He is so good.

I need moments like these.
Sure enough, dark days will inevitably come, but when they do I can look back to these moments and have the perseverance to hold the course.
The fun part is that the puzzle picture of our lives keeps changing and adjusting and reshaping – it’s never the same.
Just as long as I let Him be the artist, I know it will be a masterpiece. Not because of anything I’ve done or added, but because He puts all the pieces together.

“But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” – Isaiah 64:8

Sick overseas is a sad story

No one likes to be sick.
But in America, if you’re a little under the weather, you can run down to your local pharmacy and pick up some over-the-counter medicine to help you deal with the symptoms.
If you’re a little more sick, you make an appointment to see your family doctor who knows all your history, your allergies, your habits, etc. That doctor will run his diagnostics and determine the best course of action to fight whatever infection or problem you may have. You go home; you take your medicine; you feel better. Not to mention you have no doubts about your doctor’s knowledge because you know that your doctor has attended years and years of university and medical training.
Overseas, it just doesn’t work the same way.
All the medicine you could want to buy here is over-the-counter. There are no prescriptions. You want antibiotics, anxiety medication, pain medication? Just find it on the shelf at the store and purchase it. The problem is, most of it is out of date or fake. Not to mention that I don’t know how many milligrams of any supposed medication my nine year old is supposed to take or the rest of us for that matter. I’ve always been told by doctors and pharmacists in-the-know that self-medicating is just asking for bigger problems.
So why not just ask a local doctor you say?
Well, there is one Australian doctor in this city of five million people who keeps an office for those sick and in need of his services. However, there’s not a whole lot he can do. He basically can tell you if what you have is serious enough to warrant a trip to Bangkok. His usual response to sicknesses our family has faced is, “Just take two Tylenol and let it run its course.” Good thing we have a stash of Tylenol sent to us from friends and family in the States cause it’s the one medicine you can’t buy here ironically.
There is an emergency clinic that has a couple of Western-trained doctors on staff. The key is getting to see the one that speaks English. I went there once when I was “near-death sick” and they at least gave me a shot and an IV drip before sending me home. (See ‘Sick and Saved’ from June 2012)
The closest and best doctors/clinic/hospital is in the next country over and it’s just not feasible to fly there to see a doctor when your sick, not to mention, who wants to deal with airports and fly on a plane when you’re feverish and in pain?
There is actually a new and nice hospital close to where we live. We went there once on a weekend when one of our kids was dealing with a high fever. The chief resident doctor came to help us because he spoke the best English, and although he seemed very smart and nice, he’s not Western-trained. (It’s amazing how some of the local superstitions work their way into medical treatments here.)
 
Because of this our family policy has become, “Just don’t get sick!” But the inevitable will happen, of course.
Little Mia had been feeling a little under the weather the last couple weeks. She was coming home from school with a headache everyday and then she developed a little cough. I assumed it was because of the weather we’ve been enduring lately with temperatures around 100 – 102 degrees everyday. Especially with frequent power outages leaving us with no air conditioning, it just takes the body a little while to adjust. And then since Mia is so small and thin, she always seems to be the one that gets sick. (Not to mention that she’s so active and touches everything she sees no matter how many times I tell her to keep her hands to herself. She just can’t help it.)
Then after she had been sick a couple days she had a really bad nosebleed that lasted around 45 minutes. It kinda scared me although I tried not to let her know it.
I tried to do everything I could think of to help her. I made sure she was drinking lots of water, eating well and getting all her vitamins. CJ got her some cough medicine and cough drops, but she just didn’t ever get better.
Then the vomiting started. Ugh.
 
In the past, my mom had been my go-to-resource for medical questions and just general advice. She worked in a hospital my whole life and she knows it all. So she’s the best one to ask when I don’t know what to do.
The problem is my mother is on the other side of the globe and when it’s morning here, it’s night there and vice versa.
I sent my mom a text message to ask her to log onto Skype so that I could ask her what she thought was wrong with Mia. But then our power went out, which meant no internet.
Naturally.
 
To make a long story shorter, ultimately I was able to get an appointment with the Australian doctor on Monday morning. As we drove to his office, I was so thankful that we had a car with air conditioning. I couldn’t imagine the hour-long ride to the doctor in the blazing sun with no air con, yet that’s what most people in this city endure.
The doctor said Mia was almost finished with a virus that had been going around. He gave her an antibiotic to wipe out the rest of it and she was all better in no time.
 
There are a couple revelations I discovered in this process. One is that even though the healthcare/insurance industry has been under scrutiny the last few years in America, we still have some of the best medical doctors and offices in the world.  Everytime you walk into your doctor’s office, say a prayer of thanksgiving. Everytime you get a prescription filled by your local pharmacist, say a prayer of thanksgiving. They are benefits that many people around the world never experience. I am so thankful that I was born in America.
 
The second revelation is no matter how far away I am, I still need my mom so much and I’m so thankful for the technology that allows me to stay in touch with her and my dad.  Aside from my spouse, they will always be the first people I want to talk to when I need help or advice or encouragement. I am so thankful for such amazing parents.
 
Being sick is no fun, but it definitely makes you thankful in so many ways. 

Friends are friends forever...

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."

My whole life, I've had good friends.
Some of my best friendships began in high school and they have remained despite the many changes we've all had in our lives. A few friends in particular I consider most dear because they have known me and loved me through crazy hairstyles, boyfriend problems, acne and pubescent immaturity.

1991

2011

My closest friendship began in college. Life threw us together and we remained inseparable our first two years together at Samford University. Those were formative years and when everything else seemed to be changing at lightning speed, the one constant in my life was her friendship. Today I still consider her one my most valuable friends.
When I got a little older, establishing new close friendships was more challenging. After taking care of kids and husbands and jobs and obligations, there's not much time left to invest elsewhere. Yet I was blessed to have several women that I called close friends. Friends that I played bunko with and went shopping with. Friends to do lunch with. That group of ladies brought such joy into my life. And it's not easy when your husband is on staff at a Gathering Place. Many P.Wives feel detached from other women and unable to have close friendships, but that just wasn't the case where we lived.
And the women where I worked were the most special. When you spend all day together, day in and out for years and years, you inevitably get close to those people. The women at my workplace were unique in that they would always tell me what I needed to hear whether I liked it or not. I knew I could trust them with anything. We laughed, we cried, we struggled, we played, we just did life together. And it was special.

When my family left our hometown to move to the other side of the globe, I never even considered the idea of having friends. I just figured that I was leaving family and friends behind and that those kind of relationships would be impossible where we were moving. I prepared to be isolated and separated from anyone with any similarities or shared interests. I couldn't imagine ever having friendships like the ones we were saying goodbye to.
So I was really surprised when we became very close to the people we were in training with in Virginia. At the end of our eight weeks together, we were so close that it felt like we had known these people all our lives. And these were people with different backgrounds and upbringings. Some were older, some were younger. They saw us at our best and at our worst, sometimes soaring, sometimes at our very lowest. Yet they stayed our friends and had become family in the absence of our blood relatives.
I remember thinking when our training was over at how surprised I was at the friendships Father had put in our lives. I was not expecting to have people who were so new in my life become so important in my life so quickly. Yet that's just what happened.

And it didn't stop there.
Father has continued to fill our lives with friendships and love with people who have been in our lives for just over a year but have become as close as family.

This weekend, I was privileged to attend a Ladies Retreat in our city with some of those very friends. The Shepherd and his wife from FBC Charleston, S.C. were in town visiting some members who live here and happen to be co-workers of ours. The wife said she would love to lead a time of fun, encouragement and Good Book Study for the women of our company who live in this place, and that's just what we did.
There were about ten of us in all who got to share in this wonderful time of fellowship and renewal. We played games, we learned calligraphy, we at A LOT of good food, we were challenged and edified... and it was wonderful. There were times when we were laughing so hard that we had tears rolling down our faces. There were times when the tears were caused from dealing with hurts and sadness that bubbled up while spending time on our knees with Father. It was such a beneficial time for all of us there and I couldn't help but feel so grateful to the members of FBC Charleston, S.C. who made this time possible for us.

But there was a point during the retreat this weekend, as I sat in a moment of quiet time looking around the room at the ladies there, I felt so overwhelmed at the friendships Father has placed in my life.
Each of the women in that room are so special to me. I know I could call on any of them in a moment's notice with a need and they would answer immediately. I can tell these women absolutely anything about my life - and let me tell ya, we've talked about EVERYTHING! - yet they love me and support me unconditionally.
I share a common bond with these women. We have all felt the call to be living here and we all want more than anything to serve Father and bring honor to Him. We have all struggled to survive in this city while endeavoring to keep our families united and content. We have all been broken through language learning. We have all endured persecution and despair. We have all experienced the joy that only comes from seeing a lost sheep come home.
And it can be so hard.
Life is hard.

On Saturday night, several of us had gone for a short walk and as we walked along the deserted road, we all walked side by side in a line.
I realized how beautiful this picture of friendship was. No one was ahead or behind. No one was left out or in the center spotlight. It was just a few friends walking side by side facing life together as it comes. It was a sweet moment and one that I'll not forget for a long time.

There is a quote from a book by Henri Nouwen that I think defines this thought much better than I can. It says:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

Giving, taking, sharing, listening, loving - it's what friendship is about and I feel so blessed to get to soak in its warmth. Friendship is truly a gift from God.



"A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become and still, gently allows you to grow." - William Shakespeare

"Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing." - Elie Wiesel

"The best mirror is an old friend." - George Herbert

"'We'll be friends forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet. 'Even longer,' Pooh answered." - A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

What's in a name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Shakespeare has a point. But I have to respectfully disagree, a little.

A name cannot change the characteristics of an object or person, but it can affect others’ opinions and impressions about that object or person.

For example, what if a rose was not called a rose, but instead called a rilf.

“Yes, I’d like to order a dozen rilfs please.”

I don’t think so…

The point I’m trying to make is that names are important.

Doesn’t every parent spend hours and hours thinking about potential names for their children before they’re born?

Names can often reflect someone’s personality or disposition. That’s why picking just the right one is so important.

We were told before we arrived in this country that eventually someone would give us a name in the language of the place we’re living. We were told that the name could only come from a person born and raised in this country, and that we were not allowed to decide the name ourselves. A local person who knew us well would give us our name when the time was right.

And like a child waiting eagerly all year for Christmas to come, we waited to receive our names.

All of our American friends who live here had all been given local names, and I loved asking them who gave them their names and what they meant.

Throughout the year we’ve been living here, we asked some of our local friends repeatedly if they would like to give us names, but no one really ever wanted to.

We’ve been asked a few times to give English names to some of our local friends, and it’s really hard. So I completely understand their hesitation. A name lasts forever, right? So it’s got to be perfect.

Names in this country are even more important. Their names all have special meanings, and they don’t have last names here. Only first names. However, their first names might be three, four or even five words! We have seriously struggled with people’s names here because they’re so hard to remember.

Little Miá got her name pretty quickly after we arrived here. She is so endearing to the local people, that she was easily and enthusiastically named by one of our sweet “sisters-in-spirit” who we see regularly.

Miá was given the name သဲ သဲ which sounds like Thay Thay. It literally means “I love you with all my liver.”

I know, I know. In America we say, “I love you with all my heart.” But here, they love with their liver.

Just trust me, it’s a precious name which suits little Miá perfectly.

Almost everyone in our building knows little Thay Thay, and anytime I go anywhere I always hear the question, “Where is Thay Thay?”

I love it.

The rest of us continued to wait for our local names…

The apartment where we live is above, what could best be described as, a little mall. There is a grocery store, a few clothing shops, a couple of small restaurants, a pharmacy, etc.

We inevitably go downstairs everyday to buy the food items we need to cook with that day, but also we enjoy practicing our language with the workers that we have come to know very well.

One day last week we were downstairs as usual chatting with some of the workers. We were talking about how difficult it is to remember their names when one of the ladies suggested that she would like to give us local names. She said she already knew the perfect names for us and had picked them out.

We were excited and happy to hear her say those words.

Like a cultural rite of passage, she bestowed us with our new names and told us the meanings.

My name is ေမ ပု လဲ which sounds like May Buh’Lay. It means something like “precious as a pearl.” I later learned that Western women are also often given names of things that are white because of our white skin.

I like the name because it reminds me so much of my beloved grandmother’s name: Mabel. I’ve always loved her name.

My mother also said that my local name is reminiscent of my maiden name: Marable.

I like it!

CJ’s name is….. (drumroll please): ဦး ခန့္ ညား which sounds like Oooh Cant Nyah. You will not be surprised to learn the meaning of his name.

It basically means Mr. Handsome.

How perfect is that?

He’s a little embarrassed to tell other people his name, but I keep reminding him that it was given to him by someone else and he didn’t decide it.

Hey, if the shoe fits, wear it, right? :)

Zoë is still waiting on her local name. Ironically, she’s the one with the most local friends by far, but she’s still waiting.

It will come.

The best thing about our new names is that it means we are just one more small step closer to becoming immersed in the culture. We have come to love this country and the people here so much. We want to be able to talk like they do. We want to understand their values and their ideas. We want to be a part of their culture as much as possible so that we can better share with them about our Father and His love.

Hopefully in sharing about our new names, we can share about His many names. We want to tell them how to have their name put into the Lamb’s book of life.

I wonder which name we’ll have listed there, our English name or our new local name?

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Anyone out there ever received a new name in a different language? I'd love to hear what it is, what it means and how you received it. Please share!

“…and at the sound of (His name) every knee will bow….” the second chapter of Phil., the tenth verse.