The Gift I Didn't Want

 

"Hey, Rachel, there are a couple packages in your mailbox.  Do you want us to bring them over?"

 

"Sure, that would be great!"

 

When they showed up a little later at the language center, there was only one package.  "The other one wasn't for you.  It was for the pastor [of my church]," he told me.

 

"Why did they put it in my box if it wasn't for me?"  I wondered aloud, slightly annoyed.  It's not the first time that's happened, and it's always disappointing to think you have a package when it's actually for someone else.

 

I opened the package from Michelle immediately, but I didn't think much more about the other one until I went to the Mission myself a few days later.  Oh, yeah, that's right.  The package.  For the pastor.  I don't know why I have to be the courier.

 

I reached up to get it out of my mailbox, huffing and grumbling a little to myself.  It's not a little box, so I'll probably have to take a taxi back instead of the bus.  And suppose the pastor isn't at the church today?  I'll have to lug the clumsy thing home with me and then lug it all the way back tomorrow.

 

I looked at the address label, still annoyed.  Why did he have a package sent here and not to his house?  Wait...this isn't even the Mission's address.  How did it get here?!  And the end is open.  I hope nothing has been damaged...

 

At this point, I turned the open end toward me, only to realize that what was listed on the packing invoice was most certainly not what was in the box.  It was...calendars.  A whole stack of lovely calendars.  For me.  Someone had been cleaning out their office and, knowing my love for calendars, given me their old ones - in a old, half-smashed box addressed to my pastor.

 

And here I was, huffing and puffing about having to take the package to someone else, when it was actually for me.  A gift.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes people get the idea - sometimes I get the idea - that being a missionary is like taking a package, a gift of good news, to someone else.

 

I huff and puff sometimes, because frankly, this experience is not always fun.  Why do I have to be the courier?

 

I almost picture God saying, "But won't you just look inside the box?"

 

Look inside and you'll realize it's actually a gift for you...

 

Look inside and you'll find that sometimes the loveliest things come in the most unlikely packages...

 

Look. inside.

 

* * *

 

The stack of calendars is sitting in my desk drawer.  All those pages of mountains and flowers and bridges are waiting to be made into envelopes.  (Nine calendars, twelve pages each - that's over 100!)  Some of them will be stamped and mailed to friends back home.  Some of them will be tied with ribbon and left in other mailboxes.

 

It's not so different from grace, now, is it?

 

Grace isn't a package I'm supposed to deliver to someone else, have them sign for or leave on their doorstep.

 

It's a gift from God to me.

 

So I can take the gift.  Open it.  Enjoy it.  Then (and only then) from that abundance of loveliness...give to others.

 

 

Lizards, libraries, and ling

(...Because alliterative titles are the ultimate mark of genius.  Not.)

 

 

I don't mind ordinary lizards, but they're not cute like geckos are.

 

 

"A room without books is..."

 

A body without a soul?

 

A kitchen without cheese?

 

A garden without flowers?

 

A needless tragedy?

 

Okay, I'll stop.

 

But I will say that books and rooms with lots of books make me happy.

 

Mostly happy, anyway.

 

Analyzing discourse, doesn't that sound like fun?!  Actually, it was one of the few things I enjoyed in Linguistics.

Linguistics.  That feels like another lifetime entirely.  Which is just as well.

...I'm profound today, aren't I?

Just a few pics (again)

Friday, I...

 

 

Had dinner at Muriel's

 

(Say "cheese", Tootsie!)

 

 

Got a package - hip-hip-hurray!

 

 

(No, when the going gets tough, you get waterproof mascara!  ...At least that's what I saw on a greeting card once.)

 

 

Had a session after two days off (the time off was by necessity, not by choice)

 

 

Made a batch of brownies

 

 

Had some girls over for dinner

 

(Doesn't that quiche look weird?  They asked me if I'd hidden anything underneath it.)

 

 

Bought coke for the first time...ever.  (For company.  I didn't have any.)  I didn't get pictures of us - I'm usually bad about taking pictures of people.  Maybe I just get too caught up in having fun or something. :)

 

 

 

And on Saturday, I...

 

Went over Angèle's after a meeting in the morning.  She had to go to the market, so I went with her.  And at the market, I....

 

 

Got a tattoo.  Just kidding.  (The girl who nearly fainted when she got her ears pierced is not a good candidate for a tattoo!  No unnecessary needles for me.)  It's henna.  I was rather hesitant, but Angèle really wanted me to try it, so I did.

 

 

 

On Sunday, I...

 

 

Kept tabs on the progress of the building straight across from me.  What are they doing now?  I don't know.  We'll see in a few days.  Or weeks.  Or months.

 

 

Enjoyed the bougainvilleas that are once again covered with blossoms in abundance.

 

 

I promise that eventually I'll post something more substantial, but for now...

Diary of a Cockroach Killer

I dedicate this post to Gramps, who was the inspiration for both the title and content.

* * *
There are things you just know you're born to do, and then there are things you do, causes you take on, because you have to.  I don't consider myself one of those people who was just born to be a cockroach killer.  I do it because, "All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing."  I choose to see my battle with cockroaches as a small representation of the cosmic battle between good and evil.  This is what keeps me going when things get tough.

Here, then, is an account of my day-to-day life as a cockroach killer, my failures and triumphs.  Veni, vidi, smashi.

* * *
5/15/14:
Dear Diary,

Today is a day that will live in infamy.  Though I have always hated cockroaches in any shape, size, or place in my house (or outside my house, for that matter), there was a measure of relief in knowing there was one place I'd never seen them: my bed.  I told myself at least a hundred times that the day I found a cockroach in my bed was the day I would throw in the towel for good and go home to stay.
If I was superstitious, I'd say today was jinxed.  But I'm not, so I'll just say it was a crazy kind of day.  Needless to say, after everything else, I was fed up with cockroaches (which on this particular day, happened to be everywhere - the kitchen, the dining room, the hall, the bathroom, the bedroom floor, the walls).  When I finally walked back to my room to get ready for bed - completely exhausted - I pulled the covers back and there...was a cockroach.  I was unprepared for this desecration.  The thing moved too fast for me to kill it - or rather, I had nothing at hand to use as a weapon.
I didn't want to go to bed after that.
So I did the most mature thing I could think of: I cried.

Love,
Rachel

5/16/14:
Dear Diary,

Today - a new day.  And a new cockroach in my bed.  (Or was it the same one?)  This time I was prepared for the possibility.  I didn't cry.  I squashed.  I won.  I flicked the vile thing off my bed and stared at the motionless carcass with triumph.

Love,
Rachel

5/17/14:
Dear Diary,

Can't a girl even watch a movie in peace?  I was minding my own business (which is usually what I prefer to do...I don't go looking for trouble), and there were several cockroaches that ran across the floor or the coffee table next to me.  So I had to interrupt my movie in an attempt to eliminate said cockroaches, but was unsuccessful.
Living with the constant possibility of cockroaches has given me lightening-fast reflexes, but fortunately (for my computer) I kept them in check this particular time.  The unfortunate part being, of course, that the villains could escape.
Cockroaches win this round.

Love,
Rachel

5/18/14:
Dear Diary,

Though I was disgusted, I was no longer surprised to find a cockroach in my bed.  I pulled the sheets off and shook them out, but didn't find it.  There is a price on your disgusting head, cockroach.
I will not be defeated.  I will fight.  For peace and justice - and a world free of cockroaches (which is pretty much the same thing).

Love,
Rachel


5/20/14:
Dear Diary,

I woke up and felt something in the sheets. Sure enough, it was a cockroach.  Gross.  But I congratulated myself for inadvertently squashing it while I slept (thanks, no doubt, to my massive size).

Love,
Rachel


5/21/14:
Dear Diary,

The electricity went out for the second evening in a row.  I had a bit of momentary panic (well, not really panic, just worry about losing everything in my freezer if it stayed off too long).  I reassured myself by rehearsing how only twice have I been without power for more than 24 hours, and turned my attention to finishing my dinner in the semi-dark of candle light.
Candle-lit dinners are hardly relaxing or romantic when you're sharing the table with cockroaches.  I didn't bite into anything crunchy, though, so I assume they stayed off my plate.

Love,
Rachel


5/23/14:
Dear Diary,

I went to get change for the bus out of my backpack this morning, and horror of horrors!  There was a cockroach in my backpack.  I grabbed the bag it had crawled into, dumped the contents on the kitchen table, and smashed the disgusting insect.  "I win this round! HA!"

Love,
Rachel

Just a few pics

I have nothing much to say at the moment (at least not coherent enough for a blog post!), so pictures it is. :)

 

 

Marie-Claude and I saw this cat up on the wall behind the church/language center one day last week.  He didn't budge from the spot for hours.

 

 

What a lazy bones.  (But he is cute.)

 

 

Not exactly the same kind of scaffolding I'm used to seeing back home...

 

 

 

The zoom feature on my camera allows me to spy observe from a safe distance.

 

 

Here they're putting mud on the walls.

 

 

 

My most recent envelope-making session.  I think the calendars/magazine pages I have now are some of my favorites.

Do you see my prince?  (You might have to click on the picture to see it better.)

...And that's all for now.

To Fajitas, Friends, and Farewells

 

Last Friday night I had to stop by Muriel's to drop something off, and she asked me if I wanted to stay for dinner.

 

How could I say no to fajitas?  Fajitas are my one weakness.

 

And homemade pies?  (Muriel, you're a cook extraordinaire!)

 

She'd also invited a family from church.  They have four girls, whom I've grown to love dearly.

 

 

Hadassah and Hannah

 

 

Benitah, Mareshah, and Anna-Lee (who isn't one of the four sisters)

 

 

Hi, Hadassah!

 

- - -

 

 

Saturday morning Hadassah and two others from church got baptized.  This isn't our church - we don't have a place to do baptisms, so we used another church's facilities.

 

The service was supposed to start at 9:00 (a dreadful hour for a Saturday morning!), but it didn't start until after 10:00.

 

I don't think anyone was particularly surprised. :)

 

 

Welcoming everyone with an opening prayer

 

 

Testimonies

 

 

 

We sang while Hadassah and her dad made their way up to the baptismal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the baptism, some of us went back to the house.  We ate fudge and took pictures.

 

Lots of pictures.

 

 

It was almost like the paparazzi. :)

 

 

 

 

Oh, Hannah, your sweet face is so deceptive...you know you're as crazy as I am. ;)

 

 

 

The house was crazy.

 

We were crazy.

 

Hannah blamed it on the fudge.

 

...But really, when you're getting ready to leave the country and you have an entire house to pack up and lots of goodbyes to say, how can you not be a little crazy?

 

 

I went out on their balcony and spied on the neighbors took pictures of the neighbors' yard. 

 

 

 

 

 

That's not the neighbors' yard.  That's the boutique across the street.

 

 

Here's Mareshah getting her hair done.  It took hours.  (Five? six?  Something like that.)

 

- - -

 

 

It was their last week here, so there were lots of pictures at church on Sunday.

 

Pictures and food and hugs.

 

And tears.

 

Goodbyes, they aren't easy.

 

 

But...we are blessed to have something that makes saying goodbye so difficult.

 

 

 

 

Some of the young people got up and sang a few songs for them at the end.

 

As you can see, the room was absolutely packed.  Some people had to stand in the back.  I was in a row with seven of the girls (so eight of us in all) - and there were only six chairs.

 

 

Open curtains behind people don't usually work out too well for pictures...

 

 

"So you don't forget us."

 

Not that they'd likely forget the place - or the people - they've lived and served and loved for almost twenty years.

 

 

After the service, we waited outside for lunch.

 

 

This is the first event I've been to where everyone was served individual plates.  Normally people gather 'round in groups of five or six and eat from one big platter.

 

After we ate the meal, they served cups of juice and slices of cake.

 

Then we took more pictures...

 

 

 

 

Isn't his face adorable?!

 

 

 

Germain (my host family's little boy) took this picture. :)

 

 

LOL!

 

- - -

 

 

 

Miss you guys.