Another guest post: A fairy tale retold

My friend Alicia is at it again with another fascinating collaboration on her blog, Stories of Yearning. For the past few weeks, a few of us have contributed posts to what she's called "Summer of Faerie." If you have the chance, check out the variety from the past few weeks! Today she posted a fairy tale retelling I wrote. I took the Grimm's Fairy Tale of  'King Thrushbeard," turned it on its head, and set it in East Texas. It was so much fun to pull on things we've experienced in that part of the world--I hope you hop on over and enjoy "Carla and the Prez."

The Truth of the Matter

They exchanged the truth of God for a lie...

~Romans 1:25a

"What is truth?" Pilate asked Jesus. It's a question that has echoed down through the ages, and still confounds people today. My high school English teacher often challenged us to ask ourselves, "Is it truth with a capital 'T' or lowercase?" Is it absolute truth, or is it relative? That's an even more difficult question in our culture now where absolutes are shouted down absolutely. We are encouraged to be tolerant toward all...unless someone's conviction doesn't permit acceptance of all views. It's an impossible weight to carry, and at times it seems like the world is fracturing under the stress of it. This past year has been the worst I've seen, and I've found myself shaken when I've discovered many of my truths are at odds with friends and family whose beliefs and values I've trusted. I do believe there is Truth with a capital 'T', God's Truth, but I have to be careful to define it on His terms and not my own. 

Recently Kraig and I started watching the series The Man in the High Castle. Its premise is an alternate history 1962 in a world where Germany under Hitler won World War II. The eastern United States is now part of the Reich, and the Pacific States have been ceded to Japan; an uneasy alliance exists between Japan and the Reich, and a stranger relationship has developed between the former Americans and their captors. The story is intriguing and unnerving, obviously because the thought of the United States under an ideology like the Reich is horrible to imagine, but also because there are so many plot points that reflect realities that are in our own world today.

One of the most disturbing characters is Obergruppenführer John Smith, an American-born high-ranking official of the Reich in New York. Though he was born before the war he is, at least as far as we've gotten, completely loyal to the aging Hitler and the ideology of the Reich with its fierce anti-semitism and annihilation of anyone who doesn't fit the Aryan model. He is ruthless, and would be impossible to sympathize with in any way if he did not have a family which he obviously loves, particularly his teenage son, Thomas. 

(For those who haven't seen the show and hope to, the following bit is something of a spoiler, though I have no idea how it's going to play out as the seasons continue. I'll leave the decision to go on up to you.)

In an episode 8 of the first season, Smith takes his son to the doctor to check out a strained wrist. After the appointment, the doctor privately pulls Smith into his office and reveals that Thomas is in the early stages of a terminal congenital disorder. In the scene, Smith is visibly shaken, and I remember thinking, Whoa, this will make him more human! Smith asks the doctor if they can get a second opinion.

"You have that option" the doctor replies. "But you should be aware that if he is submitted to others for examination this would become an institutional issue."

"Oh, I see. Yes, of course," Smith responds, flustered out of his typical reserve. 

What? I thought. That's not an option! And it hit me that under a totalitarian system, there wouldn't be the freedom to privately seek other opinions, particularly in a system where illness was seen as imperfection to be eradicated.

But the scene didn't end there. The doctor counsels Smith that he and his wife can treat their son at home (quietly and behind the scenes, I thought, to get around regulations). Then the doctor pushes a syringe and ampule across his desk to the dazed father. 

"As for medical assistance..." he says, describing the ingredients: morphine, scopolamine, and prussic acid. 

And finally the full truth of what was going on in the scene sank in. The "medical assistance" was death. In the Reich, there was no room for disabilities or long-term care for anyone terminally ill. They had to be terminated. They were a drag on society, or worse, a blight. Later that evening in the same episode, Smith flips through an old photo album of he and his brother. His wife looks over his shoulder reminiscing and speaks of how she wished she had had siblings and the great relationship like what he had had with his brother. "Seeing your brother like that, it must of broken your father's heart," she says, revealing to the audience that Smith's brother must have died of the same disease Thomas has. Then, in complete contradiction to her own logic regarding the joy of siblings, and in oblivion to the truth she says, "Well at least now, when someone is terribly ill, they're not allowed to suffer. That's a blessing."

I was still mentally reeling over the sight of that bottle and ampule. This was not an alternate history. Oregon already has its doctor-prescribed death-in-a-bottle for terminal patients. Colorado and California passed similar laws in their November votes. It's not our policy-makers who voted in these laws, it is "we the people." We don't have the excuse of a dictator with a hit-list against anyone who doesn't fit his ideal of humanity. In our country, the arguments seem to run along the lines that these prescribed suicides are for overall "health" in a  way--family health, society's health, the removal of an individual's suffering. We should not allow suffering. We should not create an economic drag on society. All the while we move blindly into a new Reich where prescribed death is acceptable and cheap, while actively researching potential cures and caring for those who are weak and suffering, and learning from them in the process, is seen as an impediment to cultural advancement.

Eight years ago today, our daughter Keren died. During the course of her life, from before she was born to the day she died, and since, she had purpose and significance. This wasn't just because we loved her, but because we saw that every piece of her Trisomy 18, genetically-flawed, body had been given to us by a God we loved and trusted. She was not a curse; she was not an object of suffering; we were not heart-broken by her brokenness. We were transformed by her existence. We grieve her death, but it is not grief without hope.

In addition to our own walk, throughout her life we were surrounded by family, friends, doctors, and teachers who were there for us and for her. They sought ways for her to reach her full potential. No doctor or teacher could really state her full potential with "facts" because in this world where we can help the sick, people are continually seeking to discover things about our bodies and about diseases. There is always the possibility of a cure. It is only in a world where suffering is considered unacceptable, life expendable, and death preferable that nothing will be done to improve it. 

We have a choice. We can go with the current flow and accept the "truth" that suffering is unacceptable and that there are certain people who disrupt things by their flawed existence, or we can stand against it by holding those who are suffering and learning together what true love really is. Yes, the world is broken, but it is God's Truth that it will be made new, and in a small, faithful way, we can be a part of that restoration.

Finding the Light Side

Written Sunday, October 30, 2016

Here we are back in the States and once again on the verge of Halloween. Buckets of candy are looming, costumes, and today--carving pumpkins. Two years ago, our first fall in Guadalajara, we had to think through their Día de los Muertos and while we heard that trick-or-treating happened, we had no where to go for it. We ended up skipping costumes (which was fine by me) and per a friend's suggestion we gave each kid some money to choose their own candy from the store.

Last Halloween, our second year in Guadalajara, our friends the Smiths lived in a gated community where trick-or-treating happened. The kids cobbled together costumes and we went out with the Smith's son, Luke. It was Luke's first time ever trick-or-treating and it took us a house or two before we realized there was a song we were supposed to sing in order to get candy. Mexico is happy to take on other countries' traditions, but they're going to put their own twist on them. Whatever the case, great enjoyment was had by all.

This year's crew: Sapphire Girl, Obiwan Kenobi, & Owl Girl

Some folks are able to track down pumpkins to carve, but we never got that far. Because of this the kids were thrilled to get pumpkins this year, and this afternoon we had a carving party. The kids are definitely growing up because I didn't have to do much beyond cutting off the top of the pumpkins and digging out the final bits of the innards. I did end up helping Jon, but mostly because the concept of negative space was new to him and he almost cut his pumpkin's giant mouth in reverse.

Once the kids found their groove, I wandered the yard picking up pecans. They planned and worked and eventually songs broke out, and ballads were sung to the "brains" of the pumpkins, the stringy orange strands lined with seeds. Ev eventually lapsed into Spanish and sang, "Me gusta tus naranjas, con mi amor"* in convincing tones. It certainly moved me to tears of laughter.

Three jack o' lanterns now grace our porch waiting for their darkness to be turned to light tomorrow night. As Clare aptly put it, "The only way to make the pumpkins truly bright is to take out their brains." We have succeeded.

* "I like your oranges, with my love."

International Flavor

I think I'd go a little stir crazy if I lived in a completely monocultural community. Having grown up in a missionary family, and being married to a fellow missionary kid has certainly formed my viewpoint, but there it is. Throughout our lives our homes have had people in and out who come from different countries, or have worked in other parts of the world, or who are from other parts of the country. In our home the world is never small...and yet you never know when you'll run into someone who knows someone you know.

Of course, sometimes one needs to search a little for the multicultural. Canton, Michigan, is incredibly diverse culturally, but even there there are pockets of folks who were born and raised in Southeast Michigan, and so were their parents and grandparents. In Guadalajara we were the unusual ones. Naturally we met a lot of others not from Guadalajara, but the overall culture is not diverse. Here in Longview there are generations of folks who have lived here, like one of the librarians who told me she thought Longview was one of the beautiful places in the world though she's never actually lived anywhere else.

For us, though, Longview is multicultural. For one thing there's the large Hispanic contingent which often make me feel I haven't really left Mexico. And then at LeTourneau there are staff and students from all over the globe. The prof wives I met hail from all over, which makes for a great mix. And then one of the moms I've connected with through the homeschool group is Russian. She and her son who's Jon's age were over this afternoon and it was so fun to talk food and culture and world with her.   And of course, Longview itself is a new culture for our family, so we can be the strange newbies for a while...or forever!

The Waiting Place

Earlier today:

Today is update-our-drivers' licenses day. We'd hope to wait till a week from now when Kraig has Fall break and we could have switched off with running there while we kept on with house projects. But Kraig discovered this morning that if we didn't get our voter registration taken care of today we wouldn't be set up for the November elections. He doesn't have classes today, so here we all here, getting Kraig and my licenses and registration taken care of.

It's a long line. I've managed to avoid departments of transportation (or department of public safety, as it's called here) for years and it seems that when I last had my license updated with a picture it went surprisingly quickly. I don't think this will be quick--there seem to be two completely separate sets of numbers in which they're calling people up. And since it was a surprise last-minute scramble to get here we'll see if we have enough busy work to keep us occupied. Kraig is creating math problems for Clare to do (which, miraculously she asked him to do). Ev's making her way through her multiplication. Jon should be writing, but he's playing cling-boy today and lying with his head on my lap. We're sitting on the floor 'cause there aren't enough chairs.

In Michigan you take care of license plates and drivers licenses in one place. In Longview (in Texas?) you take care of your license plate and car registration in one place...and your drivers' license at the Department of Public Safety. The car registration was fairly quick and painless--it's helpful that the info website tells you all of the things you'll need--as opposed to most things in Guadalajara where things are revealed piece by piece like clues on a scavenger hunt. But why do these offices for drivers' licenses, et all, take so, so long? It's the mystery of the ages. It's the dreaded Waiting Place from Dr. Suess' Oh the Places You'll Go.

Did I mention that Kraig and I managed to get through two years in Guadalajara with our Michigan licenses? I think it was okay since I was on tourist status that whole time were there. Kraig was on temp residential status, so I'm not sure what he was supposed to do. Whatever the case, we flew under the radar. I'm thankful. I don't think I could have managed this in Spanish.



Addendum this evening:

After waiting about an hour and a half were were called up, only to find out we needed about four additional pieces of paperwork (they ended up using our birth certificates, passports, social security cards, and marriage license...and the lady kept commenting about how strange our Michigan papers were!). Was all of this info on the website I looked at a few weeks back when I got the registration information? I can't remember. With the rush today we forgot to check again. All that to say, we got lunch, gathered the right supplies and headed back. A couple hours later Kraig and I had temp Texas license plates in hand.

We've Got Mail

It's so nice to get mail again. I mean real mail--packages, letters from family. Of course, there is also the bane of bills and junk mail. I have to admit, though, that even getting those brightly colored ads in the mail is a little fun, particularly right now with move-in mail from furniture companies with alluring names such as West Elm, Crate & Barrel, and Pottery Barn. "Oooh, look at that gorgeous lamp!" I say as I glance through a brochure filled with glamorous photos of rooms no one ever lived in. "Only $269!" And into the trash it goes. Or should go. Unless, of course, I stash it somewhere because I want to remember something for the future. In that case the pile grows. I have always been prone to pile, much to Kraig's chagrin.

But piles and junk mail aside, the easy access to a mailbox and reliable service is wonderful. In Guadalajara it was basically a given that if you needed to get mail to the States, or needed to get something from there, it was best to wait till someone was traveling to or from. Part of the Sunday morning liturgy at our church was the final wrap-up question, "Is anyone going to the States this week who can take mail?" Thankfully travel back and forth was common. We brought packages back for our friends a number of times and vice versa. The couple packages friends tried to mail to us from the States halted at the border (though thankfully they returned to the sender).

I can't complain that we're back in the land where easy access to mail is a given. It's a cinch to send a letter, or return mail when your post office in Michigan decided to involve your in-law's mail with your forwards (okay, that was partly my fault; I assumed when I input our address change as "family" and listed our five names they would note that Larry and Sharon weren't among them). I know if I order something I can 1) order it, and 2) expect its arrival in decent tie. Or we can receive delightful packages like the one's Kraig's sister just sent us. And now we can send thankyous back...and she should get them! Nope. I certainly won't complain.

Waiting for a Break in Traffic

Those mornings when one must
Take time in one's hands
And dare Aviación*,
It seems rather unjust
That at first the lands
Flash past in swift succession.
Deception builds false trust,
Then suddenly bands
Of cars surround, stop motion.
One is stuck in slow rust,
Slave to jam's demands--
Some hour no more obstruction!

Aviación without traffic

*Aviación is the primary road by us that we can take to get onto one of the local highways.

Festivities

The other night we sat.
   You plugged away on papers,
   I watched a movie, folded laundry,
       When the skies across the street
                   Exploded
        Fireworks lit the night with
                   Neon flowers. 

What was the occasion?
What cause for celebration?
It was two days before Halloween,
Four to the Day of the Dead.
Not exactly fodder for fireworks.
   At least not to our American minds. 

More often than not
   We watch the festivities
    From across the street,
         Not comprehending.

It's (Not) All in the Sign

The balcony of our apartment looks down on the entrance of the "coto" (gated subdivision community) next door. Beside the entry is a pretty fountain, that adds pleasant splashing to the usual shriek and rumble of traffic noise. The other day, though, I noticed that not only was it not running, but the water had been completely drained from it. I wondered idly why and figured it must have something to do with cleaning or a leak. It wasn't till this afternoon that I noticed a sign posted over the fountain.

"Si tu Perro se hace/Tu no te hagas"

As far as my woefully limited Spanish and Google translate can tell me, this says (literally), "If your dog makes, you do not play." 

I'm hoping my friends who are much more fluent than I can shed some light on this sign, because obviously there's something missing in my translation. It reminds me of street signs like this one:

I can't help but think of everything that is implied. We must assume that the dogs are doing something in the fountain. What are they doing? I have a guess, but I think I'll leave that to the imagination. And is it that while the dogs are doing this, "you" don't get to enjoy the fountain? Or is it that the fountain is not playing as long as the dogs are doing this? I just don't know.

I'd be tempted to point to this sign as an example of how Spanish is full of assumptions, but that would be a faulty, not to mention low, blow. After all, it didn't take me long to remember our American "slow children" and how that must make non-native English speakers scratch their heads. 

Language is a funny beast. 

Ways to Look at a Day

There are days, and then there are crazy days, and this one certainly fit into the latter category. If one could epitomize reality, or life as I live it, this day would be the prime example.

I've been in hyper-awareness mode most of today for a rather large reason: It is the sixth anniversary of the death of our daughter Keren. Usually I hate January because most of the month is a time of dreaded anticipation. The Day is approaching and there is nothing I can do about it. In Michigan this is compounded with short, dark days and cold, cold weather, or worse, murky, cold-ish weather. 

This year I could see the date approaching on the calendar, but it always took me a little by surprise. I guess there are advantages to sunshine and short-sleeve weather. On top of that, Jon had a stomach bug and was out of school Monday and Tuesday, so my mind was preoccupied with him. And there have been more shifts this January in our already crazy shifting season of life. So, yeah, all that to say, I wasn't depressed about the imminence of January 28.

And today was not depressing. Insane, but not depressing. It was one of those days where half the time I was looking at God and saying, "So, can we just stop and go on to something else?" At the same time, because I was paying close attention to everything today I saw God there in the midst, working in amazing ways.

Here are some of the details:

Con: We got out the door late to drop Jon and Ev off at school. This is not unusual, but it was worse than the norm. Breakfast took longer than expected to make, etc., etc.... I was frazzled as a result, mostly because this was Wednesday and I go straight to Bible Study after drop-off, so there was even more pressure to get out the door in good time. 

And yet, even though we got to school late, we still managed to miss a tardy.

Con: Jon was in tears because he didn't want to go to school after two days off. Yesterday he had an awesome day because he was past the sick point, so of course the idea of school today was anathema. 

And yet, he had a good day and even ate extra at lunch.

Con: Traffic was extra-awful today, and on one of the roads I grated the car over a huge pothole I couldn't see due to the sun being directly in my eyes.

And yet, the car was fine, we got everywhere we needed to go, and one of the main roads that's been under construction is fixed now and actually had much less traffic than usual.

Con: I had to make a Costco run after Bible Study and when I went to check out I discovered I had left my membership card in my other purse.

And yet I was able to get a new card made at the store within fifteen minutes for no cost.

Con: When everything was rung up, my bank card wouldn't go through even though I knew we had more than enough money in the account and I just used it yesterday. Not only that, my credit card was also in my other purse, so I couldn't use that. The lady told me that I needed to call the bank and I could only stare at all the stuff I'd just bought, try to decipher her stream of Spanish, and look around helplessly wishing someone would materialize who could speak English.

And yet God took my panicked wishing as prayer and in my daze I turned to see one of my acquaintances from church saying hi to me. She saw the panic in my face and not only stepped in to speak Spanish but offered to use her card for the order so I didn't have to try to make phone calls right there. This was the huge neon-light point in the day where I suddenly saw that God was right in the midst of it with our family. This perspective changer helped immensely considering the day was only half over....

Con: Back home, when I lifted one of my bags off the counter the strap caught our butter crock and sent it with a smash to the floor.

And yet I just looked at it and laughed instead of blowing up because I couldn't help but see that the craziness, by this point, was inevitable. It was also fun to watch Clare pick up the broken pieces and spend time trying to fit the "puzzle" together. 

Con: I tried to call the bank to figure out what had happened with our card and couldn't get through on any of the numbers. Everything looked okay online, but I needed to make sure the card was okay, so I had to go over to the bank on campus to solve the issue.

And yet this meant some extra exercise, and it turned out that nothing was wrong with the card. I also now know the correct phone number to call and should be able to get a person who speaks English.

Con: I managed to send Evie into tears when I reprimanded her for doing part of Jon's homework (tracing patterns). According to her I yelled at her, and she had no idea that what she did was wrong. She thought they were just trading off with him.

And yet she forgave me and we were able to talk through strategies for how she an let me know I misunderstood something, rather than her running off in tears. We also had time to sit down together and read a book which she's been wanting for a few days now.

What else? Oh, the list goes on. Ev announced when I picked her up today that her class is having a party tomorrow and she needed to bring food to share. Thankfully I had a new bag of chips in the cupboard. Jon has to take lunch for his class and we almost didn't get the tote bag that the school provides, but thankfully we realized it before we left the school. I am writing this now at 10:30 because I spent the past couple hours putting the pieces together for the class lunch. And yet, I am sitting here with a working computer, with Kraig across the room busy on lesson prep, and three kids sound asleep. Tomorrow, as Anne Shirley would say, is a new day with no mistakes in it yet. I'm not so silly to assume there won't be mistakes, but I pray that I am wise enough to know that no matter what tomorrow brings, God is in it with me, and He's got it covered. 

Tomorrow is in His hands just as much as was that Wednesday six years ago.

Planning Ahead...Or Not

A few weeks ago I helped out in Evie's class. Her teacher has wanted to do something special for Thanksgiving and figured Evie and I could give some input there. Why yes! The class decided to do a feast, and I volunteered to make pumpkin pie--real, homemade pumpkin pie. I wanted them to know there was something more to life than the pies one buys at the supermarket.

Thankfully when I promised this I knew that it was possible to get canned pumpkin, though perhaps tricky and expensive. Friends who have lived here longer spoke of finding it at local Wal-Marts, or even finding whole pumpkins to make it that way. I hoped to go the canned pumpkin route. Unfortunately I didn't see canned pumpkin in the local markets, but thankfully our friends in Ajijic were able to go to one of the big ex-pat stores there and found three big cans for me. The price was worth it. I figured I'd do a big pie-baking bash next week before the kids had their feast and before we had a Thanksgiving dinner with church friends.

Yesterday when I picked up the kids I saw Ev's teacher. "I have the canned pumpkin!" I said. "Good!" she answered. "Our feast is tomorrow!"

Ummmm.....

I was sure I had heard wrong, but Ev assured me that they had parceled out different types of food to the kids in the class, and as I promised, I was assigned pumpkin pie.

This is not the first time something like this has happened at school. Jon's teachers are notorious for sending home sweet little notes asking for Jon to bring something in the next day. Things like "gel in a bag" and "napoles, cooked". Half the time I'm scratching my head as I try to figure out exactly what the item is, and then have to figure out how in the world we are supposed to find it before the next day. I thought at first that these last-minute requests were because Jon's teachers are fairly young and inexperienced, but apparently not. Clare hopped into the car one day after school and said, "I have to do a poster for tomorrow on a topic." A poster, as you know, requires poster board. I don't usually stock up on poster board. Thankfully, that particular time I had just bought three for another project I had wanted to do and hadn't gotten to yet. All this to say, I shouldn't have been surprised when I was asked to bring in pumpkin pie for two second grade classes (about 36 kids total) the following day.

There was no help for it. We needed evaporated milk, pie tins, and whipped topping of some sort. I knew evaporated milk was easy to come by, as were disposable pie tins. What I hadn't seen was any sort of whipped topping (Cool Whip is not a staple here). I also had faint hope of finding pre made pie crusts, so it looked like I was going to have to make those from scratch as well. I can make a decent pie crust, but they never look as nice as the prefab ones, and a bunch of second-graders weren't going to be concerned with the quality of the crust's flavor.

I hate driving out after school because that's when the traffic builds up, so the kids and I decided to walk down to the corner market, about a five minute walk. Sure enough, we found plenty of evaporated milk and pie tins, but no pre made crusts--sigh! As for whipped topping, I found something that said "whipped topping" in a freezer chest. The box looked like one that would have whipping cream in the States. My hope was that it would suffice. We trekked home and got to work on the pies. Clare put together the innards and Ev and Jon helped me with the crust. Unfortunately Ev didn't realize the water I'd put out for her had to be measured and she dumped it all in before we realized. My shortening was gone, and the crust was now unmanageable. I saved it--we'll see if I can make it work for a cobbler. My patience had about hit its limit, but thankfully Kraig arrived home just then and suggested hamburgers for dinner from a restaurant a stone's throw away. Wise man. He and the kids traipsed off for those while I made new pie crust...with pure butter.

The pies turned out beautifully, and the little bits of crust I tried melted in my mouth. I sent three in with Ev today and we kept one for us. I'm not about to give up all of that pie crust! The class had their feast this morning and the pies were a huge hit. The other teachers got to have some, too, so I think that makes the butter worth it. However I told Kraig last night that from now on I am going to plan for the unexpected. Because apparently that's what one must do here to survive.

How much canned pumpkin do you think I'm going to need?

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Jon's dragon puppet for school

If anyone wants to break out in the "Hallelujah Chorus" now would be the perfect time for it. We have our shipment at last!!! The reality of this has not sunk in, nor have we really begun to unpack (barring a few items the kids discovered in one of the boxes). But over dinner joy was building. Clare mentioned a book she loves and I said, "Guess what! It's in the shipment. And the shipment...is here!" That kept happening and we'd all look at each other and giggle. Yes, there was a lot of giggling this evening.

Kraig and I are wiped and the kids are out cold. It was a long day. It's been a long four months of waiting, for that matter. Last Friday I went in to the purchasing office again to follow up on things and found that as usual, nothing much was happening. Thankfully a staff member was there who has been able to mediate translation the past few times I've gone in. He hasn't been on the project, but it seemed that every time he was there, movement occurred. Friday was no different. In fact, by the end of the discussion Friday he took over the case--and suddenly things moved. We had word by the end of Friday that our entire family would have to go to the airport in order to retrieve the shipment, and we could go this week.

So this morning at 10 a.m. we met a university van and our staff member, Israel, and started off for the airport. The kids were thrilled to get out of school for the day, though we tried to warn them that waiting would be part of the events of the day. Little did we know....

First off, it rained last night. It's dry season now in Guadalajara, and we haven't had rain for a couple weeks. Apparently the weather decided it was time to make up for this, because not only did it rain during the night, but it kept up all day. When it rains, streets flood, and accidents occur. Today was no exception. We were only about seven kilometers from the airport when we got stuck in a traffic jam for at least half-an-hour. The kids played games and we inspected the ads on trucks and cars passing us.

When we reached the airport and the place where packages and shipments are stored until retrieved Kraig told the kids to leave their backpacks in the van. We didn't want them to have to cart them all over the place while we tracked down shipping questions. Once we got into the gatehouse (I can't think of a better name for the first building we entered) we discovered that no, the whole family was not needed, just the passports. In fact, kids weren't allowed into the shipment area because of all of the moving equipment. Kraig waved goodbye and he and Israel headed through creaking turnstiles while the kids and I commandeered two of the three seats available in the gatehouse.

And we waited. We probably arrived there at about 11:30. In the course of the next few hours we caught two glimpses of Kraig and Israel--once passing out of the main office, and once in the distance by the entrance of a warehouse. At two or so, Kraig came through the gate and grabbed all of the cash I had...and the next time we saw him was at about 5 when he and Israel came up from the street.

Can I just say, the kids were pretty amazing. It was probably the most boring day of their lives. We made do with Clare's tablet and my phone for a few games, but batteries ran low, and then it was a chapter of one of the Chronicles of Narnia (but not the one we're on as a family 'cause that was stuck in the van), and paper from a notebook I had. There was a game of Simon Says when they got antsy and on each others nerves (and mine), and they ran races down the chain link-lined walkway leading from the street to the gatehouse. Thankfully I packed a substantial lunch, so we had food, but that wore off toward the end. I also was thankful that while it seemed the kids weren't needed after all we had brought them, because if we hadn't they would have had no one to pick them up from school.

There were a few workers in the gatehouse--a man and a woman behind the check-in desk and a security lady who used her security wand to check all of the workers and visitors flowing in through the gate. They accepted my kids with smiles. At one point in the afternoon a young man with horn-rimmed glasses and blue rubber bands on his braces was checking out and chatted with us a bit. He'd spent a year in Minneapolis as an exchange student and wanted to know what had brought us here. We waved goodbye after the chat, but a few minutes later he returned with a simple wooden toy in hand for Jon (who was pretty cranky at that point). "I found this in my car," he said as he handed it to my now-grinning boy. "I remember playing this game many times when I was a kid. My dad was a physician and I had to wait without him a lot."

Kraig and Israel's final return was a huge relief, no question, and even more a joy when we saw that the van was packed with our fourteen trunks. All had been done! Israel headed back toward the apartment in that van while our family got in another that had been ordered since the trunks took up a lot of room. Kraig gave me the rundown of his adventures which involved a ton of standing and waiting and getting wet in the rain.

The biggest item that we'd been concerned about was the storage fee payment. The university was covering it, but there was no way to cut a check ahead of time since we didn't know the amount, and we didn't know how much cash we needed on hand (and weren't sure we could afford it even if we did know the amount). As it turned out, we couldn't retrieve cash there as the airport only uses one bank, which isn't ours. At first Kraig and Israel thought they'd have to leave to go get it from the university, but then Israel stepped up and personally pulled all of the money from his bank account. He'll be repaid by the university, but it was a huge thing that he did. Kraig and I are both a little overwhelmed by it. The cost of the late fees was equal to what it cost to ship our things here in the first place. Not only did this guy help us immensely this past week and today, he went above and beyond what was needed to give us an amazing gift. We might not have had time to retrieve everything today if he hadn't chipped in personally. He was so nonchalant about it, too, when we thanked him. His only request was that we call him when we needed a guide for some of the places in town as he loves to show people the city. To say the least, we'll be taking him up on this, but we're busy figuring out what more we can do for him.

And that was that. Our ride back to the apartment was amazingly traffic-free, and the trunks were unloaded in no time. Now they're scattered throughout the apartment waiting for their contents to be revealed. Everything was accepted by customs, so as far as we know, everything we packed is there. My fingers are itching to dig...but not tonight. Tonight, I'll just sing.

Ten of the fourteen trunks. The others were already transferred to other rooms.

Still Finding Home

And here we are and it's October 31. I've actually managed to write a post a day, and I certainly haven't exhausted topics that fit with my theme of Finding Home in Guadalajara. As I said a couple days ago, I do hope to continue posting regularly, but I sincerely doubt it will be every day. There is overkill after all...or maybe it's too much of a good thing :-) . See, I've been taking so much time writing that I haven't stopped to figure out little details like placing emoticons in my post.

We're still discovering our new home here, and it will be an ongoing process. I do feel, though, that these posts this month have helped me look more closely at things and I needed to do that. Writing always helps me see things more clearly. We've been learning how to navigate, physically and culturally. We've maintained routines and started new ones. We've explored new places and deepened new friendships. We've cried, and stressed, and learned, and hopefully we have grown. Sounds like normal living to me and like every home I've lived in.

The Plan
(Complete with Mom's blood, sweat and
tears. Oh wait, that's a stamp smudge.)

As we step into November, our family has a new project for the month--at least till Thanksgiving, but maybe all month. It's been hard to be thankful as certain stresses continue (shipment delays! Endless work for Kraig!), and it's been easy to complain. Days get busy, too, and when responsibilities aren't taken care of it adds to the stress. So we're creating some charts that hopefully will help us tackle these in a positive way.

First of all, we have our Give Thanks chart. Ev traced my writing and drew the owl; Clare drew the tree. The goal will be to take a sticky note and write one thing a day that we're thankful for throughout November and stick it onto the tree as "leaves" (our tree will be a Michigan Fall tree in reverse).

Secondly, we'll have a chart with Philippians 2:14-16 written out on it.

Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life--in order that I may boast on the day of Christ that I did not labor for nothing.

We still need to write out the verse, but Jon has already started decorating it with suns. The main goal with this one is to have it memorized by Thanksgiving (and Kraig and I have to memorize it along with the kids). The secondary goal is that this truth will start influencing our attitude.

Finally, we just have a plain old responsibilities check-off chart, but with a verse reminder about the relationship between kids and their parents. We did something like this a couple years ago when the kids were having a horrible time getting ready in time in the morning and for bed at night. It had a monetary incentive, which we're considering again, but it worked so well that after a year we didn't need the chart any more. Times being what they are, though, we need it again....

We'll see how it goes. I'm sure I'll be able to give an update down the road.

 Until then, ¡hasta luego! See you later!

Our Alternate Education Day

Since the kids didn't go to school today, we were able to take a few extra breaths before doing anything. Unfortunately Thursday is one of Kraig's busiest days, so he was off and running by eight. The kids and I finished breakfast, thought through a couple possible outings, and decided to get over to the children's museum that's about a fifteen-minute drive from us. We were there once just after we came to Guadalajara and had a great time, but we'd never taken the chance to go since. It seemed to be the perfect day to go, with the added bonus that it's free on Thursdays.

The museum glows with color and fun areas. It's not huge, but it has lots of open space. The outside space struck me when we went the first time. I'm used to museums in the north that have to be mostly internal. Here, weather isn't an issue, and so half of the property is area for outside exploration and three nice playgrounds. And that's after we've had fun outside of the entrance.

See-sawing in front of the museum on our first visit

Today's escapade

A Rodo Padilla sculpture doubles as a turning-toy

 

We haven't explored much in the entry building yet because both on our first visit and today we were immediately drawn outside to the central court which has a fountain and is surrounded by flowering trees.

Today the kids wanted to explore the exhibits in the back building first, so we headed into a large open room that is filled with all sorts of interactive science displays. What was fun this time was that I could read a lot more of the descriptions--apparently I am learning some Spanish!

Discovering the effect of sonic wave frequencies on water

A full-size pin board

Using geometric shapes to create pictures

Air balls and Bernoulli's Principle

I love coming to places like this while most kids are in school. We had the run of the place except for a few school tours. The kids could explore and experiment with a number of activities without my concern that they were hogging it from someone else.

Once we'd had our fill of the big room we headed out to the side of the building with the three playgrounds. These are geared to different age-levels, but once again, since there really weren't many people the kids could go where they wished. They spent a good hour pretending they were visiting each other's houses or restaurants, etc. Magic was involved. I'm sure there were bad guys. When they start playing like this, I love to step back and let them go. They certainly don't need me. It's wonderful, too, to see all three of them engaged. So often when Clare and Ev get playing, Jon is excluded. I understand why--he's only five and he's a boy so his play is different than the girls. But it makes me sad, and so I treasure these times when all three are a part of the game.

Consulting in the shade

Jon's house (today)

The day was beautiful, and the views were lovely. The museum rests on the verge of a hill that dives down into a valley. Across the valley are high rises and houses, but the valley is a flood plain and full of greenery. Cars and trucks trundle past on the road out front, but they are removed from us. We can hardly even smell their exhaust.

We'll have to go again. It's worth the visit. And after all, I've promised the kids that next time we'll take the train ride....

Complicated Decisions: When to Accept or Reject Cultural Traditions

When we moved to Mexico, we knew that one of its main celebrations is Día de Muertos, the Day of the Dead. It covers a few days, actually: Halloween on October 31, the Day of the Innocents (for children and infants who have died) on November 1, and the actual Day of the Dead on November 2 for adults who have died. You can get a good overview of it here in Wikipedia. The basic gist of the holiday is to honor those who have died, to remember them, and, for some, to create a way for the souls of those who have died to come visit.

Catrinas decorate buildings and a sculpture in Tlaquepaque

I've always been uncomfortable with the concept; I have vague childhood memories of All Soul's Day in the Philippines which involved people taking picnics to cemeteries on November 2, or even sleeping there. It is something very foreign to my biblical worldview, and in some ways it's repulsive. For me, the dead are gone. Those who were Christ-followers I believe I will see again someday. We honor them in stories we tell, and special things we have that belonged to them, but our stories and things we retain aren't held in order to try to bring them back. Rather, I am looking forward to a reunion. Because of this worldview, I don't believe souls return. However, also because of this worldview, I believe there are fallen angels, demons, who are alive and active and ready to deceive in whatever way works. That, to me, brings a dangerous element into honoring and celebrating the dead.

All that aside, one part of Día de Muertos we weren't familiar with or prepared for were the Altars de Muertos (altars for the dead). We learned about them a couple months ago when another American prof from the university was telling us about the wonderful altar displays that the university put up for the Day of the Dead, and how we would really love to go and see them all. "So elaborate and beautiful," she said. Altars? Kraig and I looked at each other puzzled. We asked a few questions, but didn't get much information. Then at the beginning of this month, Jon's kindergarten newsletter mentioned that his class would be making an altar for Día de Muertos. I thought at the time I should ask more about it, but I let it go until the other week when the teachers started to talk about the Halloween celebration and the altars. Suddenly it was something we had to really think about.

A sugar calavera

Talk about complicated. From what we can gather, the altars are shrines set up in honor of loved ones who have died, or famous people, or whomever. Ev's class is doing one dedicated to Walt Disney (which, to tell the truth, made me laugh since Disney was a proponent of cryogenics and didn't think he was really going to die permanently....). Some have these altars primarily to remember and honor someone. But the altars are also steeped in traditions that lend to a desire to bring souls of departed loved ones near. The altars are decorated with marigolds (cempasuchil) which are thought to welcome spirits. Sugar candy skulls, calaveras, are used for decorations, and a special bread is made that will help nourish the souls. While the school is totally secular, and the purpose of its altars is an excuse to party and learn about Mexico's cultural history, we realized that we had to figure out where our line between honoring and worshiping was--and quickly. The kids had notes sent home requesting different pieces for the altars, and parents were invited to come tour on Thursday.

Jon & Ev's skeletal creation today

Not only was there the question of how we honor the dead, we needed to know how we live with a biblical worldview in a postmodern world and in a country with heavy superstitions. What stand do we take, and how do we do it without offending the relationships we have started to build? I've grown to appreciate the teachers at the kids' school, and they are more and more welcoming of my help. I didn't want to throw a monkey wrench into the works by announcing that we couldn't in good conscience have the kids take part in the celebration. And what about the kids? Clare, in her true fashion, has eschewed the whole thing. She hates the skeletons with religious fervor--too zealous, as usual. We're constantly trying to help her understand the difference between standing up for what she believes while tempering it with love and grace. Evie and Jon ask questions, but they're more focused on what they will miss. Ev wants to see Ms. Mariana's surprise, and Jon has taken to drawing catrinas and skulls for his teachers. To him, it's an art project. What effect would all of this have on them?

Kraig has seen it more in black and white. An altar is an altar is an altar in his mind, and that means worship or sacrifice whether one believes it or not. We don't even have altars for God under the New Covenant. The fact that the root of these altars is the Aztec human sacrifices hasn't help the case either. We've gone back and forth on it. I don't like them, but I have been more torn by the question of how to bow out graciously without creating huge barriers. We were able to talk with other believers who have lived here a good bit longer than us, and they confirmed some of our concerns, which helped. I agreed I would talk with Ms. Mariana and see what parts of the celebration revolved around the altars so we would know what the kids would have to miss.

cempasuchil

The good news is, I did get to talk to Ms. Mariana today and she was very understanding and gracious. She was also able to explain more of the details of the celebration to me, which solidified my resolve that this isn't the best holiday for our family to participate in. I want to learn more about it, but mostly because I hate to hold a view without fully understanding where another is coming from and I like to be able to discuss things. For now, though, we need to step back and watch from a distance. We'll see what more we learn in the coming year.