Tears

Tears are a river that takes you somewhere. Weeping creates a river around the boat that carries your soul-life. Tears lift your boat off the rocks, off dry ground, carrying it downriver to someplace new, someplace better. 

There are oceans of tears women have never cried, for they have been trained to carry mother's and father's secrets, men's secrets, society's secrets, and their own secrets, to the grave. A woman's crying has been considered quite dangerous, for it loosens the locks and bolts on the secrets she bears. But in truth, for the sake of a woman's wild soul, it is better to cry. For women, tears are the beginning of initiation into the Scar Clan, that timeless tribe of women of all colors, all nations, all languages, who down through the ages have lived through a great something, and yet who stood proud. - Clarissa Pinkola Estes in Women Who Run With the Wolves

These were the words I read when I opened up my book this morning and they touched me. I'm reminded of some others words that say God collects all our tears in a bottle. I wonder what happens to them. I like the idea of them carrying us, like a river, to a better place. It gives me hope.

Our lives are changing drastically. We recently withdrew our extension plans with MCC and will be moving back to the States in June. It has been a very difficult decision to make and we are in various stages of grieving, sorting, packing and saying "good bye". We are grateful for these past 2 1/2 years here in Bangladesh and will carry many good memories home with us. We would appreciate your prayers for us during this time and as we figure out the next step of our lives.

2010 Soccer Tournement

 

For months my boys have been talking about the soccer tournement with much enthusiasm! It was held at the French School, here in Dhaka, last weekend. Many international schools were invited to participate so there were quite a lot of people there.

  

All my boys enjoy soccer, but Jensen is passionate about it! Here he is talking with his coach and teammates. 

  

Pruitt, going in for a kick.

 

They were all exhausted by the end of the day. None of their teams made it to the finals but they were good sports and still enjoyed the day. We took them to A&W (yes, there actually is one here!) for floats, to cool off at the end of a long and rather warm day.

Celebrating With My Boys

My boys, with the help of their creative Dad, made a really cool banner for me out of handmade paper. It said "Mommy" and had lots of little flowers on it too. I was impressed!

  

Hanging the banner...

  

The chocolate cake they made for me...

  

Pruitt giving me flowers...

 

And out to dinner at a Thai/Indian Restaurant. A great way to end a great day.

All In a (Thurs) Day

 

It has been a while since I've written about normal day-to-day life here...

Yesterday "Littles" was home with a cough and fever. He played some with lego, watched some cartoons, played Mathletics. My mother-in-law came over for coffee and we had a good time of connecting again. Then I filled my great big insulated bag with cinnamon rolls, maple cookies and chili soup to refill the freezer over at the MCC's expat team house which we all call the Bat Cave. I threw together some lunch, which Littles nibbled at and then we played a couple games before he took a long nap. Before I knew it, the other 2 were home from school and ready for a snack. They then made a lovely chocolate cake (with a little oversight and a lot of cocoa on the flour). The three of them spent the evening at their Grandparents' place while Austin and I had an evening out. We spent a good bit of the evening delivering some boxes of Sacred Mark soap across town to the most wonderful little shop in the Westin called Pebbles. Pebbles sells the most beautiful knitted creations - toys, sweaters and blankets for little ones, all hand made here in Bangladesh. And now they sell our soap too! We took in some lovely red basket soap sets, wrapped in heart strings, for Valentine's Day. But first we had to go around the back of the hotel and carry our boxes through security. The Bangladeshi guards all looked at us as if we were crazy to do this ourselves. ( We live in a country where people will call the servant to turn on the fan, even when the switch is within arm's reach. A generalization, I know,but I have seen it happen on more than one occasion. And in saying this, i am not trying to "dis" my host country. I just find it humorous at times and maddening at others). We opened our boxes and and the guy waved his little metal detector over it. It kept beeping and he couldn't figure out why. Later Austin told me it was the guard's watch that kept getting in the way but he never seemed to catch on. They waved us on and showed  us where to go. Can't say I've ever entered a 5 star hotel through the back entry and it was interesting. We found our way to Pebbles, turned over the soap and I oohed and aahed over all the baby stuff, wondering what my new nephew would like, falling in love with all kinds of girly stuff and wondering when this family is ever going to have girls for me to go crazy over. But I digress! From there we did a bit of grocery shopping at one of my favorite little import stores and then took a nice long walk to a Mexican Restaurant.  I had forgotten to buy lettuce for the special lunch I had planned so we walked to the market and loaded up on fresh produce - 3 bags for under $5. Broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, chinese cabbage, garlic,  some exotic looking peppers, ice berg lettuce and green leaf lettuce. We headed back to our side of town in a little cng. Our driver was determined to avoid sitting in traffic and took the craziest side roads and alleys. We bumped through narrow walled alleys and I felt as if I was being squeezed through a birth canal. We went to pick up our boys and found they were all wide awake yet and as full of energy as ever. Littles wasn't' coughing much any more and was quite perky and his fever was gone. No medicine is quite as good as going to Grandma's house! Are we blessed or what, to live on the other side of the world but still 5 minutes walk away from Grandpa and Grandma!

So, that was my Thursday, the last day of the work week. And now it is Friday. We are having a quiet, much-needed day at home. It's my birthday, so I slept in and let Austin deal with getting breakfast on and am enjoying letting myself be pampered. More fun is to come, including that chocolate cake the boys made for me yesterday. Maybe I can post some pics later. For now, I'm counting my blessings and realizing I have a lot of them!

To Lift Up or To Push Down

 

Thousands of years ago, a group of concerned people sent a delegation to inquire of the prophets whether or not they should continue their tradition of mourning and fasting on certain months of the year. Instead of giving a clear "yes" or "no" answer, God (through one of the prophets) asked them, "Was it really for me that you were fasting? Was it not for your own sakes?" The prophet then went on the share further words that he had received, " Judge fairly, and show mercy and kindness to one another. Do not oppress widows, orphans, foreigners, and the poor. And do not scheme against each other."  (emphasis mine)

For the past couple of days I've been mulling that over in my mind, especially the part about not oppressing widows, orphans, foreigners and the poor. I looked up the word oppress in the dictionary this morning  and found that it means "to keep down by harsh and unjust treatment, to weigh heavily on." It comes from a Latin word meaning to press against.

I think that most of us, at first thought, would say that we are not doing anything to oppress the widows, the orphans, the foreigners or the poor. But sometimes I think it's more important to look at what we are  not doing than what we are doing. I can't just say that I'm not oppressing anyone, pat myself on the back and continue on my merry way. What is it that I'm not doing, that is causing someone to be pushed down? Or, to put it another way, what could I be doing that would cause a widow, orphan, foreigner or poor person to not be so pushed down?

I can think of a whole list of things. For instance, yesterday a friend bought stickers from a little boy on the street and gave them to my boys because she has a big heart. I, on the other hand, brushed him away when he tried to sell them to me. Or the beggar who I ignored because I just didn't feel like digging in my bag at the moment to find some food to share but my son really wanted to give the rest of his chocolate bar to. Or I think of a friend of  mine who is adopting a little one from Ethiopia, even though their family really cannot afford it. Or the immigrants in my home area who once told me they were shocked and hurt their first year in America, when no one invited them into their homes on the holidays.  They came from a culture that is very warm and hospitable, quite happy to take in strangers and share with them. Or some folks I just met who are helping a Burmese refuge family adapt to life in America.

I'm convinced that no matter where in the world we find ourselves, there will be widows, orphans, foreigners and poor around us. We are either lifting them up or pushing them down. There is no middle ground.

I confess I've been so tired lately, so worn out that I  have felt I couldn't care about anyone else. I'm a person who feels deeply so when I get to the point I can't feel anymore, it's a little freaky and I usually have to take some time and figure out what is going on. So I must say, it's good to feel again, even if it is feeling deeply sad, feeling regretful for not lifting up those who crossed my path. 

I came across a metaphor recently that really stuck with me. It was something about us each having our own knapsack to carry but every now and then someone has a huge boulder to carry and needs our help. I think the list of people I have been mentioning live with constant boulder to carry, a load that I could do a little something (or a big something) about. 

To lift up or to push down? It's a no-brainer. Why do I make it harder than it is?

Storing Up Treasures: Love is an ACTION word

 These are not my words, but they echo the whispers in the wind that has been swirling around me, feather-soft whispers across my heart as I dream... and wait... and wonder...

Enjoy!


Storing Up Treasures: Love is an ACTION word

Birthday Boy

Full of energy, enthusiasm and smiles, mischief dances in his eyes and lurks behind those dimples. His name means a courageous cheerful one. It fits.


I can't believe my baby is 6 years old! His birthday came on the day we arrived back from our Darjeeling trip. I was grateful to a friend who had sent me a cake mix - just the perfect thing to turn out a quick treat. Riley was happy because he got to help bake and decorate it. We called it a mud cake because of all the gummy worms that are buried under those candles. Who needs a fancy bakery cake? Sometimes a little fun with Mom in the kitchen is all it takes! He was quite proud of his creation and it tasted lovely too. (My British friends are rubbing off on me but I quite like describing food as lovely!)


Of course no birthday is complete without presents. It reminds me again of the gift that Riley is to us. We are blessed...