Wednesday, January 27, 2016

My work? What do I do?

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with work. With my job. Only a few of my jobs have been well-defined or easy to explain. They were the ones with specific set hours, an easily understood title and/or job description. The ones with an actual paycheck every two weeks.

The rest of my jobs have been more vague. Less specific.  
“You do what?” 
“Do you get paid for that?”
"What exactly is it that you do?” 

Most moms in America have had some encounter with the “working mom vs. stay-at-home mom” debate. There has been more than enough confusion and criticism swirling around that topic. I’ve been in the middle of it - both as the subject of conversation and as internal battle within myself. I noticed that once I added foster mom to my list of responsibilities, I felt like I had a little more cred - because maybe that seemed more like work than just being a “regular” mom, but it still was easy to argue with myself as to whether being a mom was a real job or not. 

And then there was the whole world of volunteer ministry. Lots of people do volunteer work and lots of people do ministry without pay. And that’s what I did for many years. Once again I dealt with the internal conflict whether it was a real job or not.

When it came to organizing my own time schedule and evaluating my personal dreams and goals, I could confidently claim this “ministry” as my work. But when others asked what I “do” I struggled to articulate it.

In recent years, I’ve turned another corner and have found the courage to call myself a writer. To declare that writing is my work. It is what I “do” now. Once again, there is no clock to punch, no specific hours to be on-duty, no job description and no paycheck, but hey, I’m used to that.

...

Enter retirement. Retired people don’t work anymore. They don’t have a job. They just sit around with time on their hands. Right? They have to find hobbies to fill their time and evidently some of them still get bored. 

Nope. Not true for me. I can’t imagine feeling bored. I haven't had to get used to a new schedule because things haven’t changed much for me. Here I was just getting used to this thing of being a writer and carving out a writing schedule. I still don’t seem to be able to find enough hours in the day to keep up with my writing projects. And now that hubby is actually retired, I find myself wanting to join him in at least some of his adventures! But then I have even less time to write. I pretty much always feel behind with my work schedule, but then that is nothing new. I have always been a starter and a dabbler and not such a great finisher. 

But it works. It works pretty well, in fact. I’m grateful to have meaningful work that I love. To be passionate about one's job is a privilege. I’m also grateful to have a lifestyle that allows me to continue my work. The necessities for my job are fairly minimal. A small space, a table and chair, my computer, electrical power and internet access - and I’m all set. Or I can be portable - taking my computer along to restaurants for free WiFi. I can also write with just pen and paper. Duh. What a novel idea!

The only thing left to figure out is my work schedule. What hours do I work? Yes, it's true that some of those times when I’m sitting at my computer, I’m NOT writing. Imagine that! Sometimes I’m chatting with a friend. Sometimes I’m wasting time surfing the web. And sometimes I’m even playing Solitaire. *gasp* 

My work schedule is fluid. Not rigid in any way. Some weeks the daily schedule is predictable, but many weeks it is not. And that’s okay. I’m adjusting to that idea. 

In fact, I am downright loving it.
It’s not just okay; 
it is wonderful.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Daily Tidbits: Week Two

Saturday, 1-16-16
  • Walked along the beach at sunrise - all the way out to the point beyond the resort
  • A guy on a horse, several motorcycles, a couple joggers and a few people walking
  • Left at 8:04 a.m.; too hot by the time I got back. Must leave earlier.
  • I mistakenly swallowed a gulp of water when brushing my teeth. Oops!
  • Laundry - washed towels and a few clothes

Sunday, 1-17-16
  • Walked 2.34 miles - along the beach and on around the point toward the little beach in the cove as far as I could go without trespassing on resort property.
  • Fried potatoes and onions and eggs for breakfast. We need more food staples on hand. Don’t have many options. When we have to carry everything back home on foot, we don’t stock up on things - and we can't find things we wish for.
  • We walked into town late in the afternoon for dinner. Checked out the menu at Bungalows on the corner where Le Taino used to be. Ended up going to C’ L Aventura and got a pizza. Not bad. Wanted to walk out to the beach for sunset, but we were too tired.

Monday, 1-18-16
  • Walked 2.6 miles early in the morning - along the beach and into town
  • Went to a couple stores in search of the “baby wipes” that I’m sure I saw a few days ago. Can’t find them anywhere. Where, oh where, was it that I saw them? Or am I going crazy?
  • I did find bananas today - very, very green ones. Oops; maybe they are platanos
  • And I did buy one box of that "New York" mac and cheese at “Numero Uno.”
  • Stopped at the French bakery for pastries. They had several of the “cream” ones with the yummy yellow pudding-like dollops. But went for the “natural” ones this time thinking they would be much better to transport in my knap-sack. These are the ones sprinkled with the giant coarse sugar crystals. Tasty indeed.

Tuesday, 1-19-16
  • Took the quad to Playa Rincon
  • Still gorgeous out there. Still undeveloped
  • Made several connections to give away all of Bob’s photos! How cool!!!
  • Sunburn

Wednesday, 1-20-16
  • We went into town to pay my debt at the bakery and to buy supplies
  • Recovery day - lower back pain and stiffness as well as sunburn

Thursday, 1-21-16
  • Rained hard during the night
  • I walked to the beach and back fairly early
  • Went down to the ranchito to read for awhile

Friday, 1-22-16
  • It’s raining again. Downpour. Might postpone our walk into town.
  • Eventually we went into town.
  • To the bank. Our cards worked in the automatico this time!!! (The ATM)
  • Discovered mantequilla en barras (butter in sticks) at Numero Uno. Yay!
  • Found fresh ham
  • Productive trip
...

An uneventful week it was, but there it is: Week Two.


Monday, January 25, 2016

Travel - how we live

Write about travel, she said.
And so I will. I will try.

That was the assignment:
Think of a time you went somewhere. 
Anywhere.
How did it change you? 
What did you see? 
What did you learn? 
Write about it.



Travel used to be something we did now and then. 
Now it is how we live. It is where we live. On the road.

As a kid growing up, we didn’t travel much - mostly, I suppose, because we lived on a dairy farm and my dad needed to be there every morning and evening to milk those blessed* cows. I think I remember a day trip over into Canada for a picnic as a kid, but it wasn’t until college that I had my first chance for cross-cultural travel. And what an experience it was.

It was my privilege to study in Mexico for a month. An invaluable opportunity. Yes, maybe even life-changing. My eyes were opened to a whole new world. To a land of contrasts that I never could have imagined. To the realization that not everybody lived like we did. That we were indeed privileged. Blessed in so many ways. That we had so many advantages simply by virtue of location. That life was very different in other parts of the world.

Adulthood and marriage introduced me to the world of camping travel. How grateful I am that my man was a camper and had the good sense to deliberately establish a camping tradition for our family. Low-budget camping meant that we were able to get to places that we never could have afforded otherwise. We all learned to love road trips.

And then an amazing thing happened. The year we both turned forty we were lucky enough or brave enough or crazy enough to move our family overseas for a year. How bizarre that must have seemed to everyone. How bizarre it was! I do not hesitate to call that a life-changing experience - for all of us.

Now there’s a topic for another whole series of blog posts. My, oh, my. The short version is that we lived in the Dominican Republic for ten months. One school year.  And now here we are living in the Dominican Republic once again - this time for 10 weeks. I think this is my sixth time in the country and I learn so much every time. It is a beautiful country in SO many ways. The scenery, the culture, the people… Oh, the people! Beautiful, friendly, helpful, hard-working, resourceful, optimistic…

After that year overseas we lived back home in farm country for another couple decades, but we were changed. Our worldview had been stretched and we were spoiled for the ordinary. We had learned that we are global citizens and looked for ways to live like it. You could say we became more liberal. More flexible, more broad-minded, more global, more tolerant and compassionate. Less rigid, less judgmental, less legalistic. Not so narrow anymore.

Yes, we still lived in the Thumb of Michigan, but we found ways to bring the world there. We became welcomers of international students and people who had lived in all corners of the world. 

And then one day we suddenly left that area again. 
No, wait; that’s not quite how it happened.

One day, one early morning, we suddenly realized that it was time to leave again. We made the decision that day, but it took five years to turn it into a reality. We began a life of travel. Living on the road. Having no permanent address. 

On that momentous day, we decided to take steps to downsize and to travel. To explore and experiment before settling in another place. To see what was out there and what worked for us.

First we moved into a teeny tiny dry cabin for a few months - using the plumbing in our little camper. Then a bigger log cabin - this one WITH indoor plumbing. And then we bought a used fifth-wheel trailer and hit the road. For over two years now we’ve had no permanent address.



How has it changed me?
What have I learned?


Oh, my. There's too much.
I guess you could say that’s what this whole blog site is about. 
The things I’m learning. 
The ways I’m changing.


But maybe there is one thing that stands out from the mountain of things.

One thing I’ve learned.
One way I’ve changed…

I have realized that it is still possible to learn and to change.
I am not too old to learn and I am not too old to change.
And that's a very good thing.

...

*Blessed: pronounced bles-sed
"Those bles-sed cows"


Sunday, January 24, 2016

He named me Malala

I
Malala has been an inspiration to me and I've been wanting to watch this movie for some time. I got the perfect opportunity while on our recent flight. Before long I was digging into my carry-on bag for a pen and paper so I could take some notes.

Here are a few lines:

...


What should I do?
How can I help?

It is so hard to get things done in this world. We try and often it doesn’t work, but you have to continue and you never give up.

...

Who was the person who shot Malala?
It was not a person. It was an ideology.

Malala is just a name of a character.
She could be anyone.
“She is just a girl; she don’t know anything.”

...

Sometimes I am embarrassed at how little I did in the face of religious discrimination. Rather than speak up, I submitted to the oppression.

There’s a moment
when you have to choose
whether to be silent or to stand up.

Speak, Malala; speak from your heart.
Speak what is in your soul.

We realize the importance of light when we see darkness.
We realize the importance of our voice when we are silenced.
We believe in the power of our words.

Let us pack up our books and our pens. They are our most powerful weapons.

One child
One teacher 
One book and one pen can change the world.

…

I have been given a new life. 
This life is a sacred life.

…

I tell my story not because it is unique but because it is not.
It is the story of many girls.
I am Malala, but I’m also Shazia.
I’m Kynot.
I am those 60 million girls who are deprived an education.

That gives me hope

I wish to be an encourager and an equipper. 
I wish to help people find what they need to be what they are meant to be. 

Maybe I can offer encouragement or understanding. Solidarity. Respect.  
Possibly I can share helpful tools. Perhaps words of wisdom. 
Maybe I can bolster confidence that has faltered.
Hopefully I can challenge others to think more creatively. To reconsider priorities. 
Maybe I can point to a better perspective. 
Inspire to a more lofty goal. To possibilities previously unseen. 
Perhaps I can stretch the thinking of others along with my own. 

I hope to do these noble things with my words and my presence. In my daily contacts, but perhaps especially in my writing - not because my writing is more important than real life, but because I have so little social contact in real life.

And so I try. I write words - and publish them - and hope that at least some of them will help somebody. That they will encourage or challenge or equip or teach or strengthen.

But then I have to wonder
Are those words doing what I wish for them to do? 
Is anybody reading them? 
Are they helping anybody? 
Has someone been motivated or encouraged by my words? 
I may never know.

Such is the life of a writer. We lift our words to the window and let them fly off into the world and may never know where they will travel nor what they will achieve.

But…
Once in awhile, someone returns a few words back to me. 
Someone thanks me for sharing beauty with them.
The illustration helped someone.
That story changed their perspective.
Someone relates how my words gave them courage to take the next steps.
Someone tells me that they enjoy reading my words.

And that gives me hope.


...

Credit goes to my new friend and writing instructor Christine Niles for her challenge to write about something that gives me hope.





Friday, January 22, 2016

Five-Minute Friday: PRESENT

It is Five-Minute Friday – the day hundreds of people write for just five minutes on the same prompt and then share their words with each other on Kate Motaung's site. No editing, back-tracking, or revising. Just writing for the joy of writing. I have not participated for awhile and it seems like it might be time to do it again.

Today’s prompt: PRESENT

...

It’s a present. 
You don’t take back a present.
That’s what the Herdman kids said in “Best Christmas Pageant Ever”
You don’t take back a present.

It’s a present. 
It is my present.
The present.
This moment.
It may not be all that I would have chosen, but it is what it is.

I’m learning. Slowly. Learning that accepting and appreciating “what is” generally makes it better. Makes life better. Makes the present more enjoyable. 

Appreciating the present. 
Being grateful for the moment. 
For what has been given to me.

And the parts of it that I would not have chosen? The parts I’d rather were a little different… Well, I can choose what to do with them. Will I minimize them? Will I compensate for them? Maybe I can find ways to enjoy them or at least cope with them.

But whatever I choose to do with it, this is what I have. 
This moment. The present. 
I can look around and drink it all in. 
Or I can complain about the parts I don’t like. 

I can try to wish it away. But I don’t want to do that. 
My momma always told me not to wish my life away. 
Whenever I would say something about wishing for this or wishing for that. 
Getting anxious for whatever it was I was looking forward to.

Don’t wish your life away, 
she said. 
Maybe that means something like “the present is what you have. What will you do with it?”  

...

I have this moment.
It is a gift.
It is my present.

...

And using this picture again reminds me of something I wrote almost a year ago now - about appreciating the moment - which you can read here.



Monday, January 18, 2016

Water stories and THE water story

I suppose that most people who have visited or lived in this country have a water story. For many, it is a first experience in taking care not to drink the water. For some it is about the pump not working - because the power is off. Most of us have more than one story about using a public restroom where there was no water available for flushing - NOR for hand-washing - and would probably rather forget some of those experiences. Problems with the water or with plumbing are abundant; indeed they are part of normal life here.

Even in these first few days since we arrived, we are already collecting new water stories.

On our first day we walked into town, but just around the first corner we had to find our way around a flood that completely engulfed the street. We were fortunate to find the sidewalk on the high side and a couple well-placed chunks of concrete to ford the stream. Workmen were standing around a huge hole they had dug in the corner of the street. The pool of water was across the street for at least two days and the big hole was open for over a week.

Then there were the two days in a row when we had no water for much of the day - at least one of those probably connected to the noisy process down there at the big hole on the corner.

There was the morning when our host came outside his house and began pounding on the walkway between our two buildings. At first he was hammering with a small pick to break through the surface of the concrete and then began digging through the dirt. Sure enough they had a water leak somewhere in their house. He has been working on that for days now and apologizes for the noise.

...

We had been noticing that our bottle of purified water was getting lower and lower so we began asking questions about how to get another.  This morning the young Dominican gardener climbed the stairs to our place carrying a new water bottle on his shoulder. He was kind enough to install it in the “pedestal” for us - because neither of us knew that procedure yet. 

I smiled to remember that there was no such thing in the apartment we rented three years ago. We simply had to pour from the huge bottle whenever we needed water. That task was more than a handful for me so we quickly came up with methods to get smaller portions of water out when both of us were available to pour it as a team - usually into pitchers. 

Thinking about THAT experience brought back fond memories of our “bottle tipper” in Santiago all those years ago. I don’t know know who made it or where they got it, but it was a nifty gadget formed out of aluminum straps or some other metal. It sat on the floor with the full bottle fitting in a suspended basket of sorts. Pretty simple, but it lived up to its name. When you needed water, you simply tipped the bottle on its axis to pour the water out into your container.

…


After being reminded of frequent water woes in a place like this, I simply must share my hubby’s favorite water story from when we lived in Santiago. Be sure to click over to his blog because it is worth reading. You could even say it was a miracle.




Saturday, January 16, 2016

Daily Tidbits: Week One

Saturday, 1-9-16 - Fly from Grand Rapids to Santo Domingo via Atlanta
  • Super foggy in Grand Rapids. Hoping for no delays.
  • Atlanta also foggy
  • Watched “He called me Malala” in flight
  • Martin, our driver, was easily found as we exited the airport. A careful driver - yay!!! and very helpful.
  • Uneventful drive through the countryside and a quick stop at Supermercado Mimasa in Samana for a few groceries before going on to Las Galeras
  • Our new place is lovely
  • I seem to be catching another cold


Sunday, 1-10-16
  • Lazy morning, not feeling great
  • Walked to the beach and into town
  • Down at the corner water flooded the street, but we found one section of sidewalk on the high side where we could walk - and ford the stream via a couple chunks of concrete.
  • The French bakery was gone!  Turns out they moved to a new location. What a relief. Might be my favorite place - with my favorite people. Discovered they have yummy crepes.
  • Bob made it to La Playita later in the day - after much searching for the walking route to get there.


Monday, 1-11-16
  • Ralph and Patricia, our landlords, invited us to Las Terrenas today. 
  • They took us to Super Pola, the store with American imports. That was really nice of them, but it was too early for us to really take advantage of it. Too early to be ready to think what we might need. To be able to think clearly.
  • We did get several packages of meat to put in the freezer.
  • Stopped in Samana to try to get some pesos. Succeeded in getting a few, but not much.
  • Were able to get our phone activated. Yay!
  • Lost my wallet! Scary. Turned out to be in their car. What a relief!!!
  • Lunch at La Vela Blanca, a little restaurant along the beach.
  • An old-looking pirate ship had run aground there. Quite the entertainment watching them try to get her off the sand.

Tuesday, 1-12-16
  • Time for a rest day for me.
  • Still not feeling up to par.
  • Bob went to LaPlayita.
  • I enjoyed the hammock and the ranchito.
  • Power was off for several hours


Wednesday, 1-13-16
  • We walked to town mid-morning.  Too hot. Must go earlier - or wait until late afternoon
  • Went to Numero Uno for garbage bags, laundry soap, and ingredients for Bob’s cookies.
  • Tracked the route; round-trip to town and back is about a mile.
  • Bob made no-bake cookies.
  • When it got cooler late in the day, we walked to LaPlayita. About 0.7 mile - one way
  • Bob cooked steak for dinner.
  • Walked nearly three miles today


Thursday, 1-14-16
  • Wrote a blog post
  • Stripped the bed and washed the sheets
  • Learned the laundry procedures
  • We speak of not needing to come back
  • Water was off for awhile in the afternoon
  • Walked to town late afternoon 
  • Bob bought a shirt from Chez Michel
  • I found a dress at a little shop - and met the young woman who made it
  • Pizza at the French bakery


Friday, 1-15-16
  • Walked to town in the morning
  • Yummy pastries at the French bakery
  • No luck at the ATM, the "automatico"
  • Water is off again
  • Helicopter flew over. That’s rare.
  • Walked back into town in late afternoon to try the bank again. Finally success



...and that was our first week.

Don't drink the water!

Oops! I swallowed a gulp of tap water when brushing my teeth this morning. This was not just a little bit that might have snuck down my throat. This was a whole gulp. Yikes!

I thought I was smart enough to brush and even rinse without swallowing, but I must be getting forgetful. Guess I'd better change my routine up a bit.


Ooh, that reminds me of that one time…

…

Once upon a time, many years ago, we were on Sosua Beach talking with some other Americans.  The topic was tooth-brushing and other scary things.

...

It was early August 1989.

Our family had just arrived in the country to live and work in Santiago for a year. On this day we were fortunate enough to have been invited on a beach outing with a mission team who had just come from Haiti. We were chatting with the team members about life on this amazing island. 

"Don’t drink the water!"

Team members quickly added, “Don’t even brush your teeth in it” - to which one of our daughters replied that we do, but we just don’t swallow it. One of the team quickly retorted, “Well yah, YOU can - because you LIVE here!” 

How weird that felt to have it said about us - after having been here only a few days and just beginning to adjust to the conditions here.

…

And here we are.
Living here again. 
But maybe I shouldn’t brush my teeth with tap water.




Thursday, January 14, 2016

The little room

My first clue was when I saw a waiter hand a key to someone… 

We were having lunch at a beach bar and I noticed that people were getting a key - presumably for the restroom. Whoa. 

Does this mean that there was something nice enough about this bathroom to protect? Like maybe there was actually a toilet seat. Or maybe even paper in there. 

Such thoughts and wonderings were tucked away in the “interesting” file. 

After lunch and before we headed back to the car, it was time to check it out - so I stepped up to the bar to request said key and headed in the direction I was pointed - "over there, behind the kitchen." Experienced traveler that I am (hah!), I did remember to take along my purse just in case I would need paper.  And yes, I had earlier that morning remembered to re-stock the paper supply therein.


My curiosity grew as I came around the corner of the building which was the kitchen and found an interesting little building up on stilts - with several sturdy steps leading up to the sheet metal door that was indeed locked with a padlock.


I found myself remembering some of the bathrooms I had found at other beach restaurants. 

Like the one at Playa Rincon with a huge water drum with plastic dippers floating on the surface of the water - for flushing and hand-washing - all barely visible in the near darkness inside the little shack. 


Or like the one at La Playita where there was actual plumbing but it often wasn’t working. And, of course, I was remembering all of the bathrooms in this country with no toilet seats. 


All of these images crowded my mind as I climbed the big metal steps and unlocked the padlock. 

Imagine my shock and delight upon opening the door to find actual bathroom fixtures complete with toilet seat. Evidently so shocked that I couldn't hold the camera still!


It was like a modern restroom WITH a supply of paper. And things seemed to be fairly clean so perhaps there really was running water and things might really be working properly. 


It was even bright enough in there to see these astonishing furnishings instead of peering into the semi-darkness and fearing what one might find. 



Interestingly a small window on the ocean side was positioned at almost the right height so one could enjoy the view while taking care of business. Too funny.

Since we happened to have arrived during some interesting drama with a pirate ship run aground, the view from that window provided extra entertainment than on a normal beach day.
(Not even kidding about this.)




All in all, this was a great place and the little room was downright decent so I was thankful. 


I was also glad that I did think to take my purse along when visiting the little room - this time not for the paper I might need, but for the camera I never would have thought I might want!



Nice place. 
I'm impressed.