Moving

Last Friday night I moved to my permanent housing, which is the residence of one of the SEND Missionary families. They left for furlough on Monday and have graciously offered their home to me while I am here. Two teenage Filipino girls, N. and D. are staying with me at the house. These two work as the house helpers when the missionaries are home, and they are taking care of the upkeep and acting as companions to me while they are away. I am so grateful for their company and help. I've always considered myself good with directions but I have been completely humbled here. I can't distinguish one twisting, single-lane road from another. All the houses look like the same tin-roof/cement shack, and none of the jeepney routes are clearly marked. Even the destinations written on the outside of the jeepneys are often incorrect. Without D. to take me everywhere I'd spend most of my time here just trying to figure out where I'm at and how to get to my next assigned location. The girls have also given me a much greater glimpse into the culture which surrounds me, for which I am grateful, though it has not been without difficulties.

For example, yesterday, I got up at 6 AM and hopped in a taxi to go along with N. to her 8:00 AM college computer class. Becuase Filipinos are just now starting another school year, the teacher showed up, went over the rules, and then dismissed the class early. N. commented that her teacher seemed nervous over having an Americano in the classroom. I felt a bit out of place, but as usual, the Filipino students were friendly.

After class, D. and I left to go to the Palankay, or the out door market. This is where most of the Filipinos buy their food. It is much cheaper than the supermaket at the mall and has fresh produce from the mountain villages. It's quite the experience as the place is huge, incredibly crowded, and smells less-than-delicious. Two things make the Palankay rather trying for me: the stress of trying to make sure no one pick-pockets me and the pestering I receive from beggars and sellers alike, thinking that I have lots of money to dispense with because I am obviously an Americano. Regardless, I still appreciate the experience and enjoy the challenge of trying to find the food that I and the girls will need for the week. So far I have particularly enjoyed fresh coconut, mangoes, and pineapple, all of which are much tastier than what's available in the U.S.

After we were finished at the Palankay, we took a taxi to pick N. up on her lunch break so the girls could buy some shampoo, soap, "Colgate" etc. We barely got N. back in time for her 12:30 class, the traffic once again being the culprit.

After we dropped N. we went back to the house. After we got back from the market, I decided to be ambitious and try my had at making Adobo, a common dish in the Philippines. I'm realizing that a main ingredient in all Filipino dishes seems to be fat. I had cut up the beef that I had found in the freezer, being careful to trim off the fat and tendons, etc. When N. and D. walked in they kindly stepped in and corrected all the mistakes I was making. They were appalled when I commented that I was going to feed the fat and tendon pieces to the dog. "Oh Po, that's good. We'll use it." So they chopped it up into tiny pieces and fried some rice with it. I opted for the plain rice. I'm coming to understand that in a culture where most people are too poor to buy much meat, fat is the next best thing.

It's been interesting trying to cook in a completely different culture where most ingredients that are familiar to you are not available or are extremely expensive. One of the most obvious foods that is missing is milk. Most Filipinos have grown up on powdered milk. Only in the past few years has liquid milk become available. It is imported from New Zealand and is heat-treated so that it does not require refridgeration until after its opened. You can imagine that it tastes like it too! Along with the absence of milk is most other dairy products that we take for granted in the U.S.

Also, yesterday the water bill for the house was due. Here in the Philippines you cannot simply write out a check and drop it in the mail. No, you have to go in person to the Water District headquarters and stand in line until they personally receive your cash. Before they left, the missionaries had asked the girls if they knew where to take the bill and if they would mind taking care of it while they were gone. The girls kindly agreed, saying that it would be no problem.

So yesterday morning when I reminded D. to pay the bill I find out that she does not know how to get to the Water District and that she will not go without N.. But N. has class from 8-5. D. and N. agree to take it after N. is finished with class. I thought this seemed like a plausible solution until I realized at 4:00 PM that the Water District closes at 5.

Fast-forward to 4:30. D. and I are sitting in a taxi, stuck in traffic. I'm trying to get to Benguet State University in La Trinidad to meet a woman who leads a Bible Study on Tuesday nights. I have no idea where I'm going or if I'll be able to find her when I arrive (she wasn't responding to my texts). I can't stop worrying about the water bill, so I finally turn to D. and say, "Why don't you go ahead and get out and catch another taxi and go to the Water District by yourself becuase we won't be able to make it there before 5:00, okay? D. smiles and says, "Ok." But I waited for her to make a move to get out. Nothing. "So why don't you go ahead and get out here okay?" I said. She smiled and nodded. "So....get out." I said. "Ah no, Po," she replied with a smile. "Uhhh, what?" No response. She just smiled more and acted a bit uncomfortable. You can imagine my bewilderment. Evidently she was adamant about not going alone and at the same time did not want to cross me.

Needless to say, we arrived at the university at 5:00. The water bill was now late and we were left wandering around the campus trying to locate the administration meeting to meet J., only to find out that she had already left. We trekked back out to the main road and stood in the rain for 15-20 minutes. I was texting furiously trying to figure out what to do next and D. was watching for a Taxi. Unfortunately everytime we were able to flag one down they for some reason refused to take us to Gladiola Street. Finally, the third taxi agreed and we were off to another biblestudy where I watched two adorable but rather active Filipino children as their parents tried to have biblestudy over their squeals on the other side of the room. After an hour and a half of trying to occupy the children indoors with two balls and a few plastic Easter eggs (yes, it took quite a bit of creativity) the biblestudy was over and I was able to work up the nerve to ask Amy, the missionary whose house we were in, if I could use her Vonage phone to phone Ken. I woke him up. It had been a chaotic and difficult day for me and Ken, as groggy as he was, was kind enough to patiently remind me that things weren't so bad, and that I can trust the Lord to work out such things as late water bills and miscommunication.

We both were feeling the strain having a rather steady flow of communication completely cut off for a few days, without any promise of it being resumed. Amy reminded me that if I had come twenty years ago the only correspondence I would have with him was snail mail which would have taken twenty days to write and receive a response! I suppose we're spoiled with the internet, but I sure do miss him regardless. Please pray that we both can be faithful to do the work God has called us each to and not be crippled with missing each other. I expect the Lord to strengthen our relationship as a result of our time apart and the growth that we both experience separately. Also, please pray that the Lord directs me clearly in what He wants me to do each day. So far, I feel like so much time is occupied with just trying to live here, let alone do a lot of what feels like productive ministry. I truly desire to see God do an eternal work in my own heart, in the hearts of these girls who are living with me, and those who I minister to.

A few days ago Brett and I shared our testimony with a woman from the village of Kadaklan. I struggled through it as we were sitting on stumps in the middle of a dirt yard with chickens clucking at our feet, dogs fighting, and children running around. It was pure chaos, and I had trouble thinking coherently to say the least, let alone convey those thoughts clearly. However, after we shared, Pastor M. talked with the women who were listening for quite some time in Ilocano. By the end of the conversation one of the women was asking to receive Christ. Please pray that her conversion is authentic and that she will participate in our biblestudy this week in the village.

* I have changed the names I had previous posted to initials after a dear friend suggested that perhaps I should be more discreet. Thanks :)