A Missionary Christmas

This one is for all the foreign missionaries and the people who love them enough to send them Oreos. 

I haven’t mentioned it before now on TNL, but for the last couple of weeks, we’ve been anticipating the arrival of yet another big black duffel. Only this time, it wasn’t one we packed ourselves. This one was chock-full with homey goodness, like taco seasoning and deodorant of a respectable size, not the miniature versions they sell in ZA for over $3. 

The bag came via a guy from our home church who joined the summer (or winter over here) Africa Trek, which is, as you can infer, a trek across several countries of southern Africa. He was kind enough bring our 49-pounder over with his own bag, both of which went MIA for almost a week. As soon as I found out it was lost, I wondered if there was any use in hoping for it. This IS Africa, after all. But God caused many people to pray for both bags, and earlier this week, they arrived in Johannesburg!

We got our bag yesterday and really went all out with a celebration of what we called “Missionary Christmas.” This is a holiday occurring at various points throughout the year when a foreign missionary is blessed with an abundance of things from back home that they never truly appreciated until they went ex-pat. 

This is our first Missionary Christmas, and we did it up right. The evening started with Todd rolling and cutting out the sugar cookie dough I made the night before. Then we got to work on homemade chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes. Delicious! After that we decorated our version of Christmas cookies and then opened our presents! Todd went through the bag first and pulled out some small items to put in my stocking: some deodorant, Reese’s Pieces, and, surprise of surprises, my apple pie spice! We used to use that in our pancakes all the time! I was shocked :) 

We got so many wonderful things...Peeps (I missed those this spring), Oreos, computer cables, Lord of the Rings DVDs that I ordered in January and arrived the day after we left the states, LITTLE DEBBIE™ CAKES (!!!), sheets for the guest bed, jeans for Todd...the list keeps going! 

Some of these things we ordered and had shipped to our parents’ homes, some things we requested, but others were completely wonderful surprises. For instance, there was a brown, zip-up, cable-knit, turtleneck sweater in the bottom of the bag that both Todd and I immediately wanted. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a tag indicating who it was for. I thought it was more like something my mom would send over, but Todd noticed that the label had a shark on it, which didn’t seem very feminine. It came down to a test of fit. We both tried it on and in the end, Todd had to admit that it fit me better...plus, he noticed the zipper was on the girl side. So, I won :) We found out later, though, that it was actually supposed to be for Todd after all. But hey, this is what happens when you have big manly shoulders, right?  

But not all surprises of the bag were happy ones. Among the things I was expecting was a set of sheets for our bed. Mom had found a set at a good price and said she would send them over, as I compare the ones in ZA to burlap. Have you ever heard of 144 thread count? 

But alas, they weren’t there. At first I was really upset. Had mom had to remove them for weight purposes? She hadn’t said anything...I sent her an email to find out and her response was as surprised as my reaction had been. Apparently, someone now has a set of nice, new, 400 thread count queen-size sheets. And it’s not me. Of all the things to steal out of a bag! I mean, there was a box with TOMTOM written right on it that should have been much more tempting. We’ve learned a valuable lesson: take the sheets out of the packaging. 

But this disappointment was not enough to dampen the Missionary Christmas spirit. After we had oo-ed and aw-ed over the spoils, we sat down to enjoy some Christmas cookies and a little Home Alone. We wish to thank our entire family for their contribution to the field :) Little pieces of home can make so much difference. 

Here’s our documentary of our first ever Missionary Christmas:

Flat Sweet Flat

I sat there, staring at the computer screen, completely stressed out. My head ached and it felt like an impossible task, a real needle-in-a-haystack sort of thing. We must have seen dozens of options already, and none of them screamed “pick me!” for one reason or another. This one’s too much, that one looks scary, and—wait a minute, what do they mean “no shower”‽ It looked like we were going to have to raise our rent budget as high as we could afford to get something doable.

I was over it, and it was only the first day of flat hunting. I’d had this little detail of needing to procure shelter hanging over my head almost since we’d arrived in South Africa. It was hard enough to find something decent in our own country, in our own home town; I couldn’t begin to imagine looking in a place I didn’t know at all. How would I know what neighborhoods were “safe” (a rare word in ZA)? How would I know what was a reasonable price? Todd sent out something like 20 email inquiries to the various real estate sites, while I decided to do something really useful like worry and hold my pounding head. 

On the second day of our search two things happened: first, we got an appointment to see one of the places we’d inquired about. It was what they call here a “garden cottage,” which means it is a little apartment attached to someone else’s property. Think guest house, if you like. They’re extremely common in Pretoria, and can be very nice. We took our chances and the realtor was kind enough to give us a viewing. 

It didn’t take long. Once inside the front door we’d seen about 50% of the place. It was tiny. You can call it “cute” if you want to; I don’t. The first thing I observed (granted, I was looking for it) was the absence of an oven. I don’t mind to whittle my expectations down when I need to, but there’s just something about trying to bake without an oven that makes me panicky. 

The rest of the cottage was...ok, but overall very tiny and sorely lacking in storage. We didn’t bring that much with us, but what we did bring we wanted to unpack. We thanked the realtor and left having accomplished something: we’d just eliminated one choice from our list. Yay...

But now for the second thing that happened that day: the couple we were staying with told us of a friend they had who was trying to find renters for the flat he owned. It wouldn’t be available for a few more weeks when the current tenant moved out, but they  called the owner for us and he said he’d show us the place the next day. We went for it, obviously. We had nothing at all to lose. 

Before the owner picked us up for our appointment, I asked Todd what it would take for him to settle on this place without looking at any more. You can see how desperate I was to just be DONE looking and we’d only been at it for two days! His response was that it would have to be perfect to keep him from looking any further. My heart sank a little, even though I’d never seen the flat in question. Perfect? That was a lot to ask for. 

Or was it? To make a whirlwind story even more of a whirl but minus the wind, the flat was, well, perfect! It exceeded our expectations and was at the bottom of our price range! the kitchen was an actual room, rather than a cubbyhole carved out of the living area. The living/dining room was large, and had big, beautiful windows. There was a half and a full bath, which included a shower (who knew I would have to make that one of my make-or-break points?)! The master bedroom was huge, the guest bedroom was great, the natural lighting was impressive, and the back garden was lovely. It was only about five kilometers (roughly three miles) from the OM office, and the neighborhood was quiet.

When we got back to our room, we set about immediately knocking off places we had considered but that now didn’t stand up to the competition. Too much? Gone. Too small? Gone. Too far away from the office? Gone. By the time we were finished, Todd had to admit that his big, unrealistic criteria was met: the flat was perfect. He called the owner that night expressing our interest, and by the following Monday (two days later) we’d signed the papers. 

Looking back on how quickly and perfectly God met our needs, I’m ashamed to admit how stressed and worried I let the whole thing make me. If I had really believed he had it under control, maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised to watch him provide. We’ve been in our charming little flat for nearly a month and still thank God for the blessing that it is. It’s a constant reminder of how faithful he is to take care of his children, and how sometimes he even goes beyond our needs and takes us right up to abundance :) 

We apologize for the quality of the video but our internet constraints do not permit us to load a larger one at this time.

For the Love of Mexican Food

Mmm...Mexican food. I love it, and I’m afraid I took it very much for granted in America. It may come as a surprise to you, but mexican food is not a universal cuisine. South Africa does a lot of things, but it cannot do mexican food. 

A few weeks ago, while we were still living with a very generous Afrikaans family and taking turns cooking, we decided to do a taco salad night. It was on my and Todd’s night to cook, so we were in charge of shopping for supplies. Easier said than done. We scoured three very crowded grocery stores to get the handful of ingredients we needed to put together an authentic mexican meal, and even then it wasn’t perfect. Taco seasoning is really hard to come by. We settled for fajita seasoning, and that isn’t abundant either; we just happened to stumble upon it. 

One doesn’t find cilantro here either; it’s called coriander. I’d heard of coriander before, but had no idea what it tasted like. Now I know :) 

Salsa is another anomaly. We’ve heard you can find it, but actually finding it is another story. 

And tortilla chips...just don’t hold your breath when you go looking for those. Some stores have a bag or two to choose from, but it’s never a guarantee. The ZA natives go for Doritos. Doritos! Just keep swimming...

So, it goes without saying that when we get a craving for a taco (and let’s be real, that’s often) we know it’s time to roll up our sleeves. For your viewing enjoyment, here’s a pictorial documentary of our time in the kitchen this evening :) 

Todd is the chopper in this house. Here he's prepping the tomatoes for pico!

I think I can trace my wish to own a food processor to my Rachael Ray days. We bought this one (and a ton of other stuff!) off a couple who was returning to the States.

Combining tomatoes, onion, coriander, lemon juice, taco seasoning and a pinch of salt. Delicious!

While Todd made the pico, I was on tortilla duty. You can find tortillas here but I have no idea what they would cost, and I don't think you can get them just anywhere. So, I tried making them myself. 

The directions said to roll them into seven-inch circles...I just rolled them until they were really thin in whatever shape they chose.

Mexican from scratch. Brace yourself. 

A feast fit for a king! Ok, so it doesn't look like feast fare, exactly, but it was delicious, Doritos and all :) I ate entirely too much, but what else is new? 

The House

Here’s the house! our little duplex (townhouse) in Kilnerpark, Pretoria. I feel like it took an age to get the place photo-worthy, and you might notice that it still looks a bit spartan. But the living/dining rooms, the bedroom, half-bath and foyer all got a face lift and are looking much cleaner in their new coats of paint. This was my first major painting project. I did a lot of the trim work, so don’t look too closely. 

Behold, the kitchen! I'm not too proud of my photography, but there wasn't much to see anyway. Not that that matters...it's well stocked with almost everything I could need for cooking and baking. It's so nice to be able to feed ourselves again :) 

Most refrigerators here are really small, though granted, ours is extremely small. You don't buy bulk but rather make frequent, lite trips to the grocery store. 

Here's the dining room! You wouldn't believe how expensive the dining tables/chairs are here. We were blessed to find this one for just over $100 at a really sketchy shop in a really sketchy part of town. I don't recommend going alone. Anyway, we're so glad to have a table big enough for four people. This is actually a six-seater, but it's really cramped with all six chairs, hence only the four you see here.

My view from the table :) I love the back garden. Usually the sheer blinds are pulled to, as the complex gardener comes and goes periodically. 

This is the other half of the large room that makes up the dining/living rooms. It's cozy :) 

Now for the upstairs bathroom. I can't tell you how happy I am that there's a shower, which isn't a given in ZA homes. There's often just a big tub, which you can't see pictured here. And yes, that's our washing machine. 

Here's the guest bedroom, awaiting sheets and a sheer curtain, but otherwise, it's looking quite comfortable...just in case you were wondering. Shall I keep the lamp on for you?

Lastly, the master bedroom. It's huge! And I'm in love with the color we put on the wall, Phantom Moss. Doesn't that just enchant you? The bedside tables were purchased on the side of the road, which is very common. The room has a great window, and plenty of closet/cupboard storage on the wall to the right. Also, you'll notice a very thin carpet on the floor, which feels about 100 times better on one's feet than tile in the winter. Brr!

So, that's almost the grand tour. I didn't include the half-bath down stairs because really, who wants to look at a toilet? This isn't a real estate listing, so I just left it out. 

Come visit! 

So, how dumb are we, exactly?

Todd and I have been together for almost 10 years now, and we have had some famously good times. I can think of hiking trips, beach vacations, dates at Sonic drinking strawberry-lemonade slushes where I would really need a bathroom but was enjoying our time too much to ask him to take me home so I could pee...the list continues longer than anyone would want to read. But this weekend, I discovered a new level in our relationship.

Sometimes, we can be really dumb.

Anyone who knows Todd would never even joke about attaching that word with his name; why on earth would you? He’s a genius! I’m also considered rather intelligent by association. I can’t tell you the number of times someone has said something to be about how I’m “smart,” and I’ve never known where they got it. Have they seen my ACT scores? 

Regardless of the standards by which people may have formerly rated our intelligence, I’m here to dispel all flattery and poorly-informed opinions of us: we’re about as bright as Edison’s first few thousand attempts at the light bulb. At the risk of ruining our reputations forever, I’ll recount for you the story of how we spent our Sunday...

...but we better start on Saturday. When Todd tried to start the car that afternoon so we could go grocery shopping, nothing but a weird clicking happened. He threw the hood up and fiddled around at a 90 degree angle for a while—nothing. Nothing he could think to try worked, and we found ourselves stranded. We took the opportunity to visit the pizza place next door to our complex and are officially grateful for random, sketch-looking establishments.

It was too late in the day to try to do anything about the car problem; South Africa shuts down “early” on a good day, and weekends are even worse. No 24-hour Wal-Marts here. We decided to try to start the car again in the morning, see if anything changed, and if not, we’d take the battery to a place that could test it and determine whether a new battery could fix the problem, or if we had bigger, more difficult, $$$-kind of problem on our hands. 

Sunday morning came and—nothing. The car still click-click-clicked, but couldn’t bring itself to start. This was, of course, no surprise, and so Todd set about removing the battery.

This is where we come to a rather comical side story, but I’m going to fast forward. Suffice it to say that removing the battery was a job easier said than done, and I think it required two Googlings, a pair of garden pliers, and a hammer/screwdriver combination. I mostly stayed out of the way, but I was around enough to notice that Todd used both the top and bottom views of the engine to try to figure out what was up. 

At last, the battery was yanked from the engine like a really bad tooth with a great “ARHUGHARHAAHAA!!!!!” from Todd, and it looked like we were on our way to happier times. I mean, it was out. That was half of the job, right? Now it was off to an auto shop.

You might find yourself asking: “how did they plan to get the battery to a shop?” An excellent question. We planned to walk, and that’s exactly what we did, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I have never dealt with car batteries before yesterday, and was surprised to find just how heavy they are. I don’t think 50lbs would be an exaggeration. Maybe even heavier. Todd wrapped the battery up in a couple plastic bags, placed it in a backpack, and did exactly what you would do with a backpack. He put it on his back.

I took this opportunity to remind him that we did know people who would help us, but the  fact that it was about 10:00 on a Sunday morning really limited our options of who was available. Todd thought that anyone who would be able to help us would only be able to do it on Monday, and we both agreed that this was a problem we’d rather have fixed sooner than later; one is really very helpless without a car. So, with that, we marched through our complex gate and began our journey, Todd with a massive car battery on his back and me with...well, nothing.

Todd had looked up a a battery shop in the area that he said we would try first. It was closer than our other option, an auto shop called, and I kid you not, “Naskar,” which we knew did battery testing. 

We walked for half an our or so, until we reached the first option, which wasn’t open. We checked with a gas station nearby to see if they did testing, but—nothing. They guy at the counter didn’t even understand the question at first. With that, we continued on to Naskar.

It was at least another half hour before we reached Naskar. The joy we both felt (Todd more than I) upon seeing the shop was quickly checked by the empty parking lot. We walked to the store front and read the hours...none of which belonged to Sunday. 

“It was really dumb of us not to call,” I said. 

“Yeah, I thought about that a while ago,” Todd answered. “I didn’t think to call before we left.”

Todd set his backpack on the ground and sat slumped down on the sidewalk. 

“At least we got some good exercise!” I offered. I’m all about working exercise into my day.

We hadn’t been sitting there long when I heard a honk behind me on the street. I didn’t turn around at first, as taxis are always honking here. but Todd half waved and said, “There’s Josh and Nick.”

At this I did turn, just in time to see Nick in the driver’s seat.

“And you let them drive away?” I asked, kind of completely shocked. The thing neither of us had said yet was that now we had to walk all the way home, with the worthless battery. I didn’t mind the walk, but I couldn’t imagine why Todd wouldn’t try to get a ride. His back must have been about to snap under the awkward burden. But he's a real man, what can I say? Oh, and we're dumb.

I’ll make a really long story short by saying that it took us about an hour to walk back to the house. I got in some decent exercise and Todd got the workout of champions, so I can’t really say we walked all over Africa for nothing. 

Poor little Todd...he did a really great job, but I think the weight got to his tiny frame. He started saying some strange things, this being my favorite:

“If I did this every day for a year, I’d be a yak.”

“A yak?” I asked. 

“Yeah, you know, I’d be as strong as a yak.”

“I think the phrase is: as strong as an ox.”

“Well, I’d be as strong as something really strong.” (poor guy, usually so articulate...the strain must be getting to him)

He also made various fictional references, just to keep the mood light (since nothing else was), like:

“I feel like Frodo and the ring. It keeps getting heavier and heavier,” and “I feel like Pilgrim’s Progress.” (I don't even know if he's read that...)

I felt so bad for not being able to help him, but I don’t think I could have lifted the backpack on, much less carried it for miles and miles. We did eventually make it home, and as soon as Todd took the backpack off he started flapping around, pretending he could fly. It was hilarious. Pathetic, but hilarious :) 

Needless to say, we’ve learned a very valuable lesson: just call first. And the next time you’re faced with a difficult circumstance, whatever you do, don’t ask yourself: What would Todd and Meredith do? The verdict is in. We’re big-time dummies :) 

Things Revealed

Dear Kimberly,

A couple months ago I found myself in a theological conversation with someone who didn’t adamantly disagree with me, but who also didn’t agree enthusiastically. While I can’t remember the exact words or topics that led us to this one, I do remember one question in particular:

“So where does mystery begin?”

Here was my answer:

“Where the bible ends.”

I don’t know how much of it you’ve encountered, but it’s actually a really popular idea to claim that something God or bible related is a mystery that we can never hope to understand. You know what I want to say to that? “I’m sorry you don’t understand, but just because you don’t doesn’t mean that I can’t.”

The reasons behind this are, sadly, often reinforced by the church, the family, and long-practiced “Christian” traditional thought. A person reads the bible, thinks what they've read disagrees with something else they read in the bible, knows there cannot be any contradiction in scripture, but since they think what they’ve read looks like a contradiction the whole thing must be some great, cosmic mystery, only understandable by a god who is also mostly a mystery to them. Yeah, not a very promising view of Christianity and if true, it doesn’t leave much hope for Christians. 

I’ll let you in on a little secret: not only are there no contradictions in scripture, there are also no apparent contradictions or “paradoxes,” as they’re called. None at all. You know why? Because God doesn’t go around saying he’s the only one who can make sense of something that would otherwise be a contradiction. 

A contradiction equals nothing. The phrase “square circle” (I’m borrowing from Cheung’s Systematic Theology) is a contradiction; by definition, something that is a square is not a circle, and vice versa. It is, in fact, nonsense; it is nothing. It is this way with all contradictions, so it is very odd that people would claim to have have found “apparent contradictions” in the bible. What they mean is that they think something in the bible can't make sense and if it weren't in the bible, they would call it a contradiction. But since it is in the bible, and since they are a Christian, they know better than to use the "c" word.

The problem is not a problem of the bible being too difficult or too “lofty” to understand. Rather, it is one of people either not understanding or not agreeing with what it says, and to cry “mystery!” is the only excuse they can make. They think they’re being really humble, you know...they think that by admitting that the bible is too wonderful a book written by a god to great to be known they sound pious and holy. Unfortunately, by making such a claim they display their ignorance. 

One of my favorite verses (can you have a favorite?) is Deuteronomy 29:29. It says:

“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.” (NIV)

Now we come back to the conversation I had earlier this year. When I was asked where “mystery” begins, it was only natural that my response should be “where the bible ends,” based on this verse. All that is needed is an understanding of what scripture is. It is, in fact, the word of God. It is revelation. As we discussed last time, it doesn’t make sense to a person who lacks the Spirit, but to a believer, it is comprehensive for this life; it is all we are given, and all we need to know.

I say it is all we need to know because there is obviously infinitely more we could know, if God had chosen to reveal it. This is because God is an infinite God; he has no beginning and no end, and therefore there will always be more we can learn about him, and we will continue to learn more about him all throughout eternity (again, read Cheung’s book!). This is the part of God’s character often referred to as incomprehensibility, supported by passages like Romans 11:33-36:

“Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!

    How unsearchable his judgments,

    and his paths beyond tracing out!

‘Who has known the mind of the Lord?

    Or who has been his counselor?’

‘Who has ever given to God,

    that God should repay them?’

For from him and through him and for him are all things.

    To him be the glory forever! Amen.” (NIV)

This passaged indicates that there is obviously much more to God than we can ever hope to know, but it in no way indicates that we can’t know anything about him, or the rest of scripture. Deuteronomy already told us that the things revealed (those things in the bible) have been given to us. It is only the secret things, the things we are not told, that still belong only to the Lord, and we're supposed to just let those be. 

Do you see the danger we toy with when we claim that something in the bible is a mystery? It’s pretty silly at best, considering that God has already given us “the things revealed.” This is not to say that we automatically understand everything in scripture perfectly; on the contrary, there are many things that I don’t fully understand yet, and couldn’t even begin to explain well. But that’s not because the bible is somehow too mysterious or inadequate for me to grasp, and it certainly doesn't mean that it doesn't make perfect sense to a more mature believer; I just haven’t applied myself to enough study. The sanctification process is a lifelong one...as God grows me, he will continue to teach me. 

So the next time someone tells you we can never know or figure out something that’s in the bible, don’t believe them. I mean, it’s right there. It’s a thing revealed. 

Love,

Meredith

Nomads No More

Remember those gigantic black duffels? the ones we were so proud of finding and packing just days before we left the States? the ones we loaded onto trolleys at airports,  carried up and down stairs at a hostel in Germany, partially destroyed during training in South Africa and repacked and stacked in the guest room we were using for almost a month? Yes, those duffels. Well, it brings me great pleasure to announce to you that...

They are all unpacked!

Yes sir, absolutely empty and squashed back into the cute little square-shape they were when we bought them. Worse for the extended wear, perhaps, but we appreciate their faithful service. On only one of them did we discover a tear, and I think a little bit more of the bright orange Duck tape would patch it nicely :) 

The implication of having four unpacked duffels in our possession is huge, and we can reach it by following rules of simple logic:

*Packed bags indicate an in-transit period.

*Unpacked bags indicate the destination has been reached. 

*We have unpacked bags,

*Therefore, we have reached our destination!

We signed on our charming little flat over a month ago and were able to move in the last weekend in April. (It’s adorbs, guys, but I’m afraid this is still not the post in which I will go into gushing, photographic detail. Keep your shirt on, I haven’t forgotten). I can’t tell you how...permanent it feels to have clothes in drawers, food in a fridge, and a designated place for toothbrushes besides the toiletry bag. 

Life is beginning to slow w-a-a-a-y down for us, and with this change of pace comes we know not what. It’s kind of strange to not be looking for a car, a house, a washing machine...now we’re not “setting up” our lives, we’re realizing we have to actually live. 

Another part of our nomadic journey was not having a church home. For two people who have been a part of a church since childhood, the “church shopping” phase was one we entered into blindly. It’s amazing that God brought us to the right place so quickly (kind of like he did with the flat, but I’m getting ahead of myself), and we’re grateful to have found a church that fits. Today is Wednesday, and I’m excited to see what the mid-week service is like.

Being new to a church (and not being a child) is a strange feeling. The congregation here is very small, compared to what we’re used to, and I realize I don’t know how to go about “fitting in;” not the shallow, pathetic “fitting in,” but actually making the transition from being a visitor to someone who belongs. If I were a kid, I’d have no problem. A few minutes in a Sunday School class and you’re in. As an adult, it’s harder. I’m not a friendly person (don’t try to argue, it’s a fact), but I’ve found myself trying to be...ok, smiley. My mom would be proud. 

While it’s great to have an address again, the transition from nomad to...well, whatever the opposite of a nomad is is probably not going to be very natural. I don’t remember how to build a life in a new place. The only other time I’ve had to do it was when we moved towns in fifth grade, and as I’ve already pointed out, kids can do this sort of thing seamlessly. 

Anyone know of a grown-up sandbox?

So as not to be a complete disappointment, here's a sneak peak taken at the flat! This is our back yard, or "garden" as they call yards here. This is the view from the doors off the dining room. We are the end flat, so we only have neighbors on our left. 

This is the same shot from our bedroom with the GoPro. Isn't it just a lovely garden? :)