Saturday, October 21, 2006

Over the River and Through the Woods -- Sept. 15, 2006

Over the river and through the woods to almost any one's house I go.

To visit Karing I have to cross the river twice and a smaller stream
once, with hikes through woods and across a rice field in between.

Karing is one of my "nieces." She lost her mother to tuberculosis
while Bill was first in here building our house in 1982. We've known
her since she was about seven years old. I remember her then as a
scruffy little girl with raggedy clothes and wild, uncombed hair. She
used to play with our two daughters in the river, under our house, on
the airstrip. They grew up together.









Karing's father arranged a marriage for her, against her will, at
about age thirteen. She ran away from that husband after a short time
and went back to playing with our daughters. How many ten-year-olds
do you know who have a playmate who is also a divorcee?

That is one of the sadder aspects of the traditional Palawano culture
-- young girls forced to marry too young and against their will. Even
though most people here know that their young daughters aren't ready
for marriage, and even less ready to bear children, there is great
cultural pressure to marry off the girls. A bride price is involved.
The gifts are agreed on and exchanged from the boy's clan to the
members of the girls clan. Not like in our culture, where the couple
receives the wedding gifts. Oh no. So when a baby girl is born, an
uncle will say, for example, "When that child marries, I want a brass
beetlenut box as my part of the bride price." Other clan members will
make their requests for their part of the bride price -- perhaps some
plates or a blanket. Sometimes even a cow. Then as the girl
approaches puberty, her grandfather may say, "I want to see that
child married before I die." Perhaps the girl's clan has already made
an agreement with another clan to marry the girl to their son. And so
the pressure builds. Greed. Not wanting to be ashamed in front of the
boy's clan. And another little girl gets married too soon. Often the
girls are not even fully grown. Sometimes they are forced to marry a
man much older than themselves. And the worst part is when those
young girls get pregnant. Their still-developing bodies are not ready
to bear or deliver a child. Sometimes the birth results in great
damage to the young mother's body.

Karing was fortunate that she didn't get pregnant too soon. But
another young woman, from a hamlet about two hours walk from us,
wasn't so lucky. She was just buried here last week. Her frantic
husband brought her to us seeking help for a problem pregnancy. By
the time she arrived it was already too late. She was writhing in
pain and in very grave condition. From the best we could gather from
her symptoms and the history of her sickness, she had a tubal
pregnancy that had ruptured. Possibly a week or more before. Her
husband told us he would sell all his land to see her get the medical
help she needed. He wanted to fly her out to the hospital in the
nearest town. The plane wasn't immediately available that afternoon.
But we don't think it would have saved her. She died that same night.

When I visited Karing the other day, of course the young woman's
death was one of the topics of our conversation. Karing asked why a
baby sometimes starts to grow outside the "house of the baby," their
word for womb. I told Karing there are different reasons, but it
sometimes happens as a result of damage in the mother's body from
previous difficult births. That was when Karing told me that this
young woman was one who was married as a child. She was still very
little when she got married, and her husband was older. She was one
who got pregnant and bore a child too young, and suffered much in the
childbirth. Her subsequent pregnancies were very difficult as well.
And this last pregnancy ended up killing her. She left behind a very
sad husband, and four other children. The youngest one was about five
years old. Karing said she felt especially sorry for that child, as
she remembers she was just about that age when she lost her mother.

Those Palawanos who have become believers in Christ have the strength
to stand up to the cultural pressures that threaten their children.
Now many girls from Christian families aren't marrying until they are
seventeen or nineteen or twenty. I know that is young from our point
of view, but it is so much better than marrying at twelve or
thirteen. This isn't something we have told them to do or preached
about. The Spirit of God wrought this change in their hearts.

Karing eventually remarried a hard-working and handsome young man
from a Christian family. They now have three cute kids. She is one of
the blessed ones who know Jesus Christ. And Christ is making a
difference in her life. I love visiting with Karing. She talks fast,
and I still have a lot of learning Palawano to do to keep up with all
she says. But we share a bond of memories forged over many years,
years full of both difficulties and joys. Visiting Karing always
gives me a smile, though sometimes the things we talk about make me sad.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Watch Your ETs and EYs

Now that we are finally back home in the tribe, and somewhat settled, I can get to work on improving my Palawano. This term we are back without children to care for or homeschool. We’ve handed over the medical program to the Palawanos. So I have a lot more time to give to language. My goal is to reach a higher level so that I can have a more direct part in the translation of the New Testament.

Arlyn and Bing Bing are two young women, sisters, who work with me. They help around the house, guide me on the trails when I go out visiting, and assist me with language. The other day we were doing laundry, and I said to them, in my most polite Palawano, "It would be good, hopefully, if the clothes would hang you out in the sun to dry." The girls respectfully smiled, nodded, and then turned around and went outside to hang the clothes to dry.

When they go home, do they roll around on the floor, laughing uproariously, telling all their families about my language mistakes? I don't know. But when I found out what I had actually said to them, I had a rueful laugh on my own. Ah, such is CLA, Culture/Language Acquisition. An intelligent, competent middle-aged woman becomes a stammering lunatic. Wistful thoughts of my two years at Bethel Seminary, sitting in air-conditioned classrooms, studying in my comfortable, orderly, bug/rat/gecko/termite-free home, drift through my mind. Speaking ENGLISH. Fluently. Articulately.

But I'm having a blast with the language, culture and relationships here. Loving digging into it all. Spoken language is stored in a different part of the brain than are academic subjects. You can’t learn to speak a foreign language without actually speaking it. And you can’t speak at first without making mistakes. Alas, it is all part of the process.

We are very lucky, blessed, that the Palawano people are so nice to us. They understand that I am trying to learn more of their language and I don't always get it right. They don't really think their language is hard to learn. Even their kids can speak it. But they certainly recognize that I am struggling with it.

The week before I was mixing up the words for "hang out in the sun" and "dry." This week I got those sorted out, and made a more complicated mistake. Palawano takes a root word, then adds prefixes or infixes or suffixes to modify the meaning and change the tense. Then there are three classes of pronouns and noun markers. Which one you use determines who does what to whom or what. I said,

Menunga teyen ba iblad kaw et menge badyo.

But I should have said,

Menunga teyen ba iblad muyo ey menge badyo.

You gotta watch your ets and eys. So this week I'm focusing on exactly that. Along with a few other things.

Rini comes over three mornings a week for concentrated language sessions. She is great at explaining things, and has no problem correcting me when I say it wrong. Then the other mornings I get out of the house to visit and practice speaking. Afternoons I listen to the recordings I have made, and process what I'm learning. And at any point in time someone may stop by to visit, or borrow something, or bring us something, or ask our advice on a medical problem.

Saturday afternoon at 4:30pm is the women's prayer meeting. I pray in Palawano. I am so thankful that our patient and omniscient God knows my heart, because no doubt I pray some funny things sometimes.

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Rubio's, Rubio's, Wherefore Art Thou Rubio's?

We've been home in the tribe now for two and a half weeks. Some have asked how I'm adjusting and what life is like for me here. What is the same and what is different from life in the U.S.? One word that comes to mind is... SWEAT. It's darn hot and humid here! Halfway through our first day home, Bill and I sat down for a minute, with sweat pouring down our faces, and Bill said, "What were we thinking?" Apparently many people thought we would never return, including the Palawanos and some of our missionary coworkers. We were gone over five years. We are five years older than when we left, and twenty-three years older than when we first moved in here. So, we have a lot of adjusting to do, and big adjustment number one seems to be to the climate. We keep reminding ourselves that people pay a lot of money to go to a spa and get a sauna and heat treatment. We get it for free every day. Our pores are so cleansed now that we squeak. There must not be a toxin left ANYWHERE in our bodies. We arrived here June 6th. And now we remember why June was always our least favorite month in the tribe. It is the time of year where Hot Season meets Rainy Season, so we have Steam Season. Some nights we lay moldering in our bed, two hot bodies under the mosquito net, still sweating. Yeah, it's great here. Wanna come visit us?

Another theme of these last two weeks is CRITTERS. When we moved in we discovered that we were sharing our home with unwelcome guests... a very active colony of termites. We thought we had gotten rid of them back in February, but they weren't gone, they are never gone. Living in between the two layers of our woven bamboo walls. In the millions. Pouring into the house up several house posts. Big battle ensues. Forces of right versus forces of evil. Man against beast. Skirmish one, man wins. Skirmish two to the insects. Man is hobbled by not wanting to use heavy poisons, because of man's asthma. Water mixed with rock salt is thrown at all the walls. Skirmish three to man. One day cease fire. Termites pour back in. Skirmish four to bugs. Chemical warfare ensues, with bug poison being used. Skirmish five to man. Meanwhile, wife is cleaning up damage from termites in the house... scrubbing mud they carried in out of drawers and off cabinet shelves. Back in February we discovered they had eaten into all of our books, so whole library, including all our kid's childhood books went into the trash pit behind the house. Termites finally down, but much war damage.

Carpenter bees have made homes around the eves of our house. They drill a perfectly round hole into the wood, then go inside and hollow it out to lay their larvae. They are huge flying insects, with an armor plating that is actually quite pretty... iridescent blue-black. They are really loud, so we call them "motorcycle bugs." A pair of badminton rackets is our weapon of choice for these guys. Hit them down out of the air, then go squash them with your shoe.

And we have geckos. Not just the cute little house lizards that eat mosquitoes... we have those too. But big foot-long guys that live in the rafters of our ceiling-less house. Geckos always go to the bathroom in the same place everyday, and if it happens to be in a bad place, that is a problem. When we moved in, a big one was doing his business over our bed. So every night, part of the routine was to get rid of the gecko droppings. But when he did it in the middle of the night while we were in bed, right between our pillows, we knew that gecko had to GO. That guy is now toast, but there is another one. The other day I found him when I opened our silverware drawer, sitting on top of all the forks and spoons. Surprised me. Surprised him. I don't think I want geckos in my silverware. He is a big, ugly guy but we haven't caught him yet. 

Then there was the snake that made its slithery way into the house. Bill chased it around with his machete, dealt it a serious wound, but was unable to catch or kill it. Bleeding, it made its way behind our kitchen cabinets, where we can't get to it. As far as I know, it is still there. Dead by now, I'm sure. Bill, more optimistically, is sure that it made its way down a house post and out of the house before it died. We didn't mention the dead or dying snake behind our kitchen cabinets to our guests, the new pilot's parents, who flew in the next day to have lunch and a visit with us. 

(Note- be assured that no critters were harmed in the writing of this blog)

Another big adjustment for me is getting back into cooking all our meals. There is no grocery store nearby, no fast food, no restaurants. We don't even have an AM/PM Minimart. If we want sandwiches for lunch today, I need to bake bread yesterday. Everything is from scratch. So I'm getting back into Susie Homemaker mode after a lot of years of being spoiled by all the great quick meals that are available back in the U.S. Small victories are won... the bread and tortillas turned out great. Small defeats... the yogurt didn't turn our right on try one or try two. I'll keep trying. But we miss the Rubio's fish tacos that were just down the hill from our house in San Diego.

But then, five days after we arrived I sat in our Palawano church service and found water pouring down my face again. This time it was tears. I couldn't hold them back and I couldn't sop them up fast enough. Up front, Abil was leading the singing. Abil had been a surly 15-year-old kid when we first arrived, and I thought back over all the ups and downs that had brought him to the place where he is now... a godly man, shepherd, evangelist. Wow. Next to me sat Iyok. When we first met her, her face was a black cloud. But she got saved, and is now a glowing, sweet Christian mother of six, and the wife of our other church leader, Susing. On my other side sat Iyong's mom. She became a believer through the witness of her kids and Nada, one of our former partners. The songs we were singing, Bill had translated into Palawano from English and Tagalog. The Palawanos love to sing praises to God and call out one song to sing after the other. The songs minister to their hearts. And Bill did that. They have those worship songs because we were here. They have some portions of scripture in their own language to read and to be encouraged by because we were here. God is so good to let us have a part in this ministry and in these precious people's lives. So that is why we are back. And we trust that by His grace and strength, God will allow us to finish the work He gave us to do here.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Those Mighty Arms

In my last blog, I talked about being perplexed, wondering about God's timing. I thought we had returned to the Philippines to get back to work, yet there I was sitting in a tiny town in Iowa. I thought Bill and I were done with our long periods of separation, yet now we were half a world apart again. I thought I would be caring for my mother in her old age, not losing her now. The words to a haunting song by Amy Grant resonate with me --

Why, why, why does it go this way?
And why, why why?
All I can say is somewhere down the road
there'll be answers to the questions.
Somewhere down the road, 
though we can not see it now.
Somewhere down the road
you will find Mighty Arms reaching for you.
And they will hold the answers at the end of the road.
. . . And all I know to do is keep on walking, walking round the bend. . .

As I write this now, I'm somewhere down the road, sitting in our mission guest house in Manila. Bill and I are in the same place at the same time again. My mom is with Jesus. And I think I have answers to some of the questions. But first, you need to know, I found those Mighty Arms reaching for me as soon as I turned around and looked. They weren't somewhere down the road, they were right there waiting for me. God met me in that little house in that little town in Iowa. He took me back to the basics, reminded me of His unfailing love for me. Reminded me of His power. Reminded me of all the trials He has brought us through in all the years we've been walking down that road. He wrapped those Mighty Arms around me and let me rest in Him. Immersed me in the Psalms -- Be still and know that I am God. God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time. From his throne he observes all who live on the earth. He made their hearts, so he understands everything they do. Let your unfailing love surround us, Lord, for our hope is in you alone.

I think I am beginning to see God's wisdom in the timing of this whole thing. We've been a period of transition since last September when we moved out of the family home in San Diego. In five months we changed locations 30 times. Some of those moves were very major ones. Then all of a sudden, in the middle of February, I found myself at a dead stop, sitting in Ida Grove, Iowa. And, you know, I was really ready to sit still. In fact it was wonderful to stay put without a whole lot to do for awhile. The first weeks with my mom were a time of rest for me. I just basically had to keep house for her. And by the end of my mom's struggle with cancer, when she needed more care, I was ready to help her.

If God knew He was going to take my dad home in November and my mom home in April, why didn't He keep us from returning to the Philippines last October? I think I know the answer to that question now too. It has been a good thing for us to get re-established in the Philippines. God has used Bill in a number of ministry opportunities during these months. And then, as his asthma flared up in reaction to the tropical heat and humidity, he could get help for it. While he waited for me to return to the Philippines, he stayed in Manila, in an air-conditioned setting, under the doctor's supervision. The medications have had time to take effect, and his breathing is improving week by week. He should be good enough to go on to the tribe very soon.

Why did I have to lose my mom now? I still don't know the answer to that question. But I do know that God wanted me to be with her for her last two months. He wanted me to see the work He had done in her life. He had work to do in my heart too. My mom came into her relationship with Jesus Christ late in her life. She spent the last several years involved in a loving church, attending Bible studies, growing in her faith. She spent those years doing good and helping others. She was very much loved in her community. I got to see that first hand. I got to know her friends and neighbors and came to love them. It was sad when it was time to leave Ida Grove, and say goodbye to everybody who had loved my mom there.

And then, when it was time to leave Iowa, and stop through San Diego, the timing was perfect for dealing with some business issues about my dad's estate. And of course, it was wonderful to spend time with Bethy and Lis and Chris, and my sister and her family.

So I'll keep walking, walking round the bend. Bill and I are facing not just a new chapter in the book of our lives, but a whole new part. Our responsibilities for our aging parents are over. Our two daughters are about 95% launched. I don't know all that the next part of the book holds, but I do know those Mighty Arms will always be there. And so I'll just keep on walking.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

God's Gifts

Yesterday was officially the first day of Spring. We woke up to 7 or 8 inches of freshly fallen snow. Beautiful. One of God's gifts to us during this painful time. This is the fourth snowfall since I arrived in Iowa five weeks ago. God was good to send snow for Bethy's visit the day after she and I arrived here. During Bethy's five-day visit, she got to experience bitterly cold, 5 degree weather for the first time in her life. Then when Kimmy, my niece, visited a week and a half ago, God sent more snow -- with some of the biggest snowflakes I've ever seen. And yesterday, Bill and I marveled at the deep and fluffy white blanketing everything. We enjoyed shoveling the walks and unburying the car. A novelty for us.

Many people have been praying for us. A good friend wrote last week: "I know the last few months I spent with my mom were precious, so just take it in, the sorrow, the love, the emotional pain, the uncertainty, but most of all God's provision through it all. . . One day at a time with God." I can't tell you how much those words helped me. I've had some teary days. Somedays I wish I could pull myself together and just be a little more cheerful. But in it all I can see God's hand of goodness too. Mom has had more visitors, cards, and gifts of food and other things than I could count. The people in the community here have shown their love and appreciation for her in a myriad of tangible ways.


One of God's special gifts to us during this time is a young cat. She was a stray that some friends of my mom had taken in two weeks before I first arrived. They had her neutered and vaccinated, then loaned her to us during this time. She is a pretty little orange thing. Bethy named her Chloe. At first all she wanted to do was disappear into the basement and hide. We have been helping her become a little more civilized. In turn, she's brought us a lot of joy with her playfulness. We laugh out loud when she leaps and twists playing with one of her toys. Chloe likes to cozy up on the blanket my mom covers her legs with when she is in her recliner.

Mom's condition hasn't changed a lot. She tires very, very easily. She won't admit to being in pain, but does say she is uncomfortable. The disease in her liver and kidneys is causing fluid to leak into her abdominal cavity. Every week or two she has to go to the hospital and get it drained. Yesterday they took out more than two gallons of fluid. After that procedure she feels a little better for a few days, then the process starts again. She has told me that she doesn't know what she would do if I were not here. So I am thankful that I can be here.

Bill is here for one for one more week, then he has to return to the Philippines. We've been able to take care of some needed business matters during our time together, so that has been good. And he is cooking us some wonderful meals!

I thought you might enjoy some pictures from Palawan. It seems a bit odd that I have been to the Philippines twice since the end of October, but am now sitting in Iowa. No wonder I feel dis-connected at times.

In November, Tim and Peggy Castagna came in to visit our tribal station. Wouldn't you know, it rained all night before we arrived, and the river flooded. Here are Peggy and I crossing the flooded river. Despite the swift current, we made it safely across. What you don't see is what happened when we got to the other side. I slipped on a slick log bridge and fell flat on my back into the muck of a rice paddy. Welcome home, Donna.

This trail leads up to the village government school.


Nili is a young woman who used to play with our daughter, Elisa. Now she is a mother of five! She is also a good friend of mine, and has promised to help me improve my Palawano. I can't wait to tell you her whole story sometime. Now she's a hard-working, godly young woman, but she has a very interesting past.Karing is another old friend of our daughters. Karing cracks us up with her quirky sense of humor. Both she and Nili are great language helpers. They aren't afraid to give me correction when I say something not-quite-right. I'm really looking forward to working with them when I am able to return to Palawano-land.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

A Wintery Afternoon in Iowa

It's 38 degrees and rainy outside. . . a lot warmer than the 5 degrees and snowy weather that greeted us when Bethy and I arrived here a few weeks ago. Dreary nonetheless. Winter weather leads to reflections. I was born and raised in San Diego, and spent most of my adult life in the Philippines. Neither of those places experience a full-on winter. But my mom moved to Iowa fifteen years ago when she retired, to be close to my step-father's family. Here in Ida Grove, a small town surrounded by farms, all the cliches about winter come to mind. The trees are leafless, the fields are dead and brown, the squirrels are hiding, the birds have flown south. It is a season of death, of rest, of waiting, of hiding. Yet at the same time, it is a season of hope. Even now, the trees are getting ready to bud out. The farmers are anticipating the new crops they will plant in the spring.

Somehow, it seems appropriate to be losing my mother to cancer during the winter. Her body isn't a hospitable place for her soul anymore. She gets weaker and weaker day by day. But she has hope and faith that things will get better. She is counting on the promise of God for new life, for eternal life. Inside, she is the same upbeat, peppy, friendly person she has always been. But outside, her body is failing her. She can't go and do all the things she loves to do anymore.
Just yesterday I was reading in 2 Corinthians 4:7 -- We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. I am so thankful that my mother has a relationship with that powerful God, through her faith in Jesus Christ. Her body is a fragile clay jar, but her heart loves the Lord.

And I am so thankful that God's Word addresses the questions I have in my own heart. The passage continues on in verse 8 and 9, We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. . . We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Lord, I don't understand this. Bill and I just returned to the Philippines after a very long time away, and almost immediately I lost my dad. I went back to San Diego for his funeral. I had just returned to the Philippines and was in the process of settling again back home in the tribe when the news came about my mom. Perplexed? That's me. I don't understand the timing. Couldn't God have led us to stay in the U.S. longer, or have taken my parents earlier? But as I reflect on winter, on seasons, on God's love and care and goodness, I have hope, too. This is a season in the life of our family. A season of death. I'm losing both my parents in a few months time. Elisa and Bethy are losing two grandparents. But we know there will be other seasons. Seasons of sunshine and life and birth and buds and fruit. And so, through this winter season, I will continue to walk and to wait with the God I have come to love and trust so much.