Lao Dinner

Wow, can't believe it's been almost three weeks since I posted on here. The time at home has been flying by now that I can get out of bed and keep my food down! (Thanks Mrs. H!!!)

Speaking of food, last week I treated my family to a Lao dinner, as authentically Lao as possible here in the states. 

First you have to soak the rice for several hours, then wash it really well.

Then you put some water in an aluminum pot with a woven basket on top, add the rice to the basket and steam for about 15 minutes, carefully flipping the rice one time about halfway through.  You can see the wicker basket in this photo below.

 Also made Khua Pak (stir-fried veggies) and even convinced everyone (including my father!) to eat with their hands! :)

Had some "grilled" chicken as well that was pretty tasty :) That's one of my favorite things to eat in Laos. You can just stop by a little stand on the road, pick out a hunk of chicken and they grill it right there for you. So fresh and so delish!

Here's the group of willing guinea pigs (minus Mom!)....Some of my favorite people on this side of the ocean! :)

 After dinner we played my favorite game ever - Telephone Pictionary. Write a sentence, pass the paper and the next person draws a picture of the sentence, passes the picture, and the next person writes a sentence and so on. Lots of hilarity ensues! :)

 Here's Dad re-reading his and showing the progression as it went around the circle.

So thankful for these chicas!

We really had the gray and black going on that night... a foreshadowing of family pictures tomorrow. The most civilized form of torture in the M household!

Taking off the Mask...

This weekend was more what I expected life to be like when I was back here. It was full of laughter, funny moments, amusing excursions, zany family time and sweet fellowship.

I found out the small group I used to go to (OGG) was having a potluck on Sunday night, and after contemplating the cost of gas to criss-cross Otown one more time, I determined it was worth it to drive back out there for the fellowship.

I'm sure glad I did.

I got there just as they'd started singing. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I soaked in the sweetness of that sound.  Singing in English, with people who've encouraged me, supported me, lifted me up and who know me, really know me (from all my notorious confessions!), just felt so sweet. I have no other word for it.  Maybe that sounds strange to some, but when you don't have that regularly, it becomes such a treasured thing.

Then we started sharing requests and things we've been learning on our recent journey, and I looked down and saw the two "sentences" Dan had at the bottome were: and He is able to do even more than all we can ask or imagine...He shall supply all of our needs according to His riches (some obvious editing there...). But those two statements just hit my heart and reminded me just what kind of a Father we lift our hearts to.  It's so easy to forget.

As people started sharing, mask after mask came off, and it just became a community of genuine people with a genuine heart to love the Father, but who genuinely struggle every day.  

Genuine.

Authentic.

Real.

Raw.

These are words I've been confronted with over and over in my life, and especially these last few weeks back home. What does it look like to be authentic, real and raw? Especially that last one. Raw. Just the word makes me think of pain and struggle, but also transparency.  Transparency before others and transparency before the One who sees it all anyway.

How encouraging to be around other sojourners who are willing to take the mask off, to say "Wow, I really struggle with ..." but who in the next breath say, "But He is a Father who never tires of my authenticity and honesty and confessions."

As David says in #17, "Keep me as the apple of your eye."

Is it possible that I could be the apple of My Father's eye? Now that's more than I can even ask or imagine. But it's true. 

And unless I'm in community, it's so easy for my heart to forget what's true and just focus on the struggle.  I need to be constantly reminded whose I am and how He sees me. And then I'll be free to take off the mask.

Well, actually I have some disease that causes me to erupt in spontaneous confessions pretty much all the time, just ask the ladies' study group from the last five years! But that's beside the point!

"A broken and contrite heart, You will not despise."

Sweet Moments - Highlights from the Week

So in the midst of all this processing, there have been some really fun moments. I think today was the best day I've had since coming back home.  I laughed and laughed and laughed...My sister Jess and her usually reserved boyfriend, Tyler, were the source of a lot of these laughs. Jess is working on a video of the craziness. Maybe I'll share that later.

But here are a few pics from this week, depicting some of the highlights of being home.

Highlight #1 - a spontaneous trip to Bradenton to visit my great aunt and uncle with my friends Hannah and Kristi. Hannah teaches in Taiwan and Kristi is heading back to Norway for the second time this week. What a blessing to have friends who understand this cross-cultural life thing!

Hightlight #2 - my sis came home from Europe this week! She was there for about a month for piano "stuff" (I'm sure it is more technical than that, but ya know...)

Another awesome highlight - seeing my sister's best friend (and honorary sister) Tali. She was only home in Otown for a few days, but it was so fun to hang out with her. I babysat her when she was five and now she's going into her sophomore year of college. I sure do feel old! I love this picture of the three of us, mainly because whatever it is that has a hold of my stomach has made me a much smaller size, at least temporarily! This is perhaps the first time I've stood next to my tiny sister and not felt like a beast! ;)

One of the few things I've been able to eat since coming back home...Applesauce. I was trying to be all artsy with Jessie's new camera

For Jessie's first dinner back home, mom made her favorite - Salsa Chicken - here Tali and I are comparing portion sizes. This may look like a small plate for me, but these days, that's about all I can stomach! Though, today was actually a much better day, and I was able to eat about two meals, including a smoothie (that Tyler bought for me:) and some steak.

 Last night I was supposed to meet some friends for dinner, but plans fell through and I found myself halfway to the triplets' house with nothing to do. So I called Jill and went to visit the triplets. It was such a perfect gift from the Father, and as I like to say, just what the Doctor ordered...some triplet loving and time with J and C was just what my heart needed.

Triplet Pile!

As you can see, they are still quite shy around me ;) It has been such a wonderful surprise that even at such a young age, they were able to remember me, and still welcome me and love playing together after a year apart. Even shy Charlie was busy showing off, and kept begging again, again when I let him fly over my head. Oh, I love those babies and they really brightened my day.

This week has been full of hard times of processing, and being under the knife of the Healer, but it has also been full of sweet times of conversation with great friends, and lots of laughter with my family. And for that, I feel so very thankful.

The Beautiful Ache

We read a book about two years ago in Ladies' Study called The Beautiful Ache. I've been reflecting on that idea this week a lot because I've been aching. I ache to be in Laos and I ache to stay with my family, friends and all that was once familiar. I even ache to avoid the ache. 

I was rereading the prologue this morning on Amazon (because I left my copy in Laos), and the author asks this question when talking about what she has dubbed "The Beautiful Ache":

What if you denied the urge to fill the crevice or crater-like space it makes with activity or noise or food or drink and simply sat with it awhile?

Wow, convicting. When I ache, the first thing I want to do is forget about it. Fill my schedule with activity, fill my heart with anything that will dull the ache, and usually (when I'm not repulsed by food like now!) I fill my belly with as much chocolate as it can hold (or as much as is available in Laos!). All in an effort to ignore that ache.

She continues:
Could you learn to love such wide-awake living? Could you joyfully taste heaven one exquisite morsel at a time without feeling the need to either push the smallish plate away or lick it clean, demanding more?... The beautiful ache points us beyond. It is not meant to be ignored. So when it comes - and it will - why not move in closer and ask the ache what true and terrible secret it knows and longs to tell?

I love that - the ache points us beyond. Like the words the Father spoke to me that first Sunday home when I was overcome with emotion - I am your home. The ache reminds me that neither here nor there is my true Home.

Here I cannot ignore the ache. And I know that's exactly what the Father wants. This morning as I sat with Jess at the breakfast table, it felt so good to have time together. But almost immediately this thought rushed into my mind: I don't want to get used to this because it won't last. The ache is there, even in the midst of life's small joys. 

Last week mom and I went to the beach with J, C and the triplets. As we walked out into the waves, the usually fearless Will fearfully clung to me. I thought how great of a picture that is of our relationship with the Father. When we're overwhelmed by the waves of life, and sometimes they can be strong and loud and rush over you when you least expect it, the Father wants us to cling to Him as He lifts us above the waves. Sometimes the waves hit us, but as long as we're in His arms they will never wash us away; He never lets go.

As I stood in the waves thinking about this, tears started rolling down my cheeks.Why? Because as Will clung to me, I felt my heart opening up, and I was overwhelmed at just how much I love him. And I didn't want to feel that love, that closeness because I remembered how my arms physically ached to hold the triplets last July when I left. But yet, it was a cherished moment, a sweet memory that I always want to keep with me.

I ache when I skype with my closest Lao friend and I see her struggle with doubts in this new life the Father has given her. I ache to be there, to walk the first steps of this new journey of Belief with her, knowing all the while the distance of an Ocean separates us.  But, I know my Father is in control (and that's so much better than any illusions I have of being in control!!!) and He has me here and her there for His perfect purpose and reason. It doesn't necessarily lessen the longing to be there, but He is teaching me when I ache to call out to Him, the only One who can fill that ache, both for my heart and hers.

Probably the hardest ache since I've been here is seeing the toll that my living overseas takes on my mom. Seeing her heart ache because I'm so far away, missing birthdays and holidays, Christmas morning and the birth of my nephew makes my heart ache.

The ache points us beyond. And isn't that why I've chosen to live overseas? Because there is a world beyond this one, and the Father has sheep in every country, in every people group, that need to hear the Good News that there is a Good Shepherd who is calling out their name.  Here am I. Send me. Why? Because I want to see Lao people rejoicing with the Father for all of eternity.

Yes, that's my deepest heart's cry.

But still, I ache. This ache, it cannot be ignored right now. Sure I've ignored it many times before, pushed it back, pushed it down; but the Father has me in a place now where He wants me to sit with it a while. To let Him strip me of all the substitutes I try to fill the craters of my heart with and just bring it all to Him and lay it at His feet.


"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world." - C.S. Lewis

Reverse Culture Shock

So I've always heard that people who work cross-culturally are often most at-home on an airplane. And while I'd say I definitely wouldn't consider an airplane "homey" by any stretch of the imagination, the idea of being enroute from one world to the next, stuck somehow in the in-between (like C.S. Lewis' Woods between Worlds in the Narnia series) can often feel more comfortable than either world.

Laos is my home now and I'm learning the language, loving the food (oh what my stomach wouldn't give for some rice and grilled fish!) and in love with the people.  I love driving a motorbike, endure the helmet hair, the heat and even the ants.  In spite of the differences and difficulties, my heart has become knit to that place. I don't really even understand it myself. But in spite of all that, I don't completely fit it. Nor will I ever completely fit in. When I go shopping in the market, people still stare. When I drive by children walking with their mothers I still hear them yell out, "Falang," which means foreigner in Laos. Yes, thank you for destroying any illusions I might've had about fitting into your society.

I'm in the states for the summer, until September 18th to be exact.  It's been wonderful to be with my family, visit with friends and go to group studies - I'm such a quality time person so I love that.  I'm driving a car for the first time in a year. Wearing shoes everywhere. Went shopping at the mall with mom, Amanda and Isaac - even got some Auntie Ann's which we don't have in Laos. Walked by Dairy Queen in a daze because I feel so strange that many of the foods we dream about in Laos are right here, just a few minutes drive away. But in many ways I feel like I don't fully fit in here either. Granted, there are no children on the streets yelling "foreigner" when I drive by, but in my mind sometimes I hear that label assigned to myself in the place that was home for 27 years.

My stomach is perhaps the most obvious indicator of this - I've been home about 17 days, and I still can't eat normal foods. I've felt sick the entire time being home, and the Taco Bell trips and pizza deliveries I dreamed about in Laos have become a nauseating idea. 

I went to a PI debrief last week and they talked about Reverse Culture Shock which really helped. There's such a great comfort in hearing:  you're not alone. You're not the only one who's felt this way. Perhaps that's why I'm blogging about it.  I need to process and just be honest with the difficulties of living in two worlds. 

I was talking to Sone's mom on skype the other day and in my very childlike Lao language ability I was trying to explain to her how I was feeling. This is a rough translation - It's like I have two hearts now - a Lao heart and an American heart - and they are fighting. She laughed because obviously that sounds silly. I don't really have two hearts, and there's not a real fight going on. But in some ways, it does feel like you are now a divided person. You love two countries, two peoples, two languages, two types of foods, two everything. Loving one doesn't lessen the love for the other, but it does feel like you're always torn, in conflict with yourself. When I'm in Laos, part of me longs for my family, my friends, my Fellowship in the states.  And now that I'm in America, part of me aches for Laos and the friends the Father allowed me to pour into for the past year.

Realizing I'm a pretty emotional person generally, I'm trying to ride the waves of culture shock. It was a rough transition for me to Laos. It's been a rough transition for me back to America. I know myself, and I know I don't deal with transition super well. But one thing, or should I say, One Thing, is always constant. The first morning back home I was singing, tears rolling down my cheeks because of the flood of emotions, and I felt His whisper in my heart...  I never change. I am always the same. I am in Laos and I am in America. And, I am with you, wherever you go. I am your Home.

There's such a temptation when you feel the ache of longing to want to close off your heart to all feeling because it just hurts too much. I've fought that some here - you don't want to connect with those you left back home because you know that leaving them again will hurt too much. And part of me wishes I wouldn't have connected so deeply in Laos and fallen so in love with Lao culture because it wouldn't hurt so much to be away from that.  I think my mom and I are the same in that - the anticipation of the goodbye is often almost enough to keep you from wanting to enjoy the hello and all the time leading up to the goodbye.  It makes me think of this quote by C.S. Lewis:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."


Wow, am I learning that - to love is to be vulnerable. And to be vulnerable often means your heart will hurt, it will ache, but it will love. So, that's where I'm at - trying to learn to love, even when it hurts, and to live well in both worlds, because they both are a part of who Father has made me to be.