Dear Friend,
Today at a staff meeting, the curriculum coordinator said something that triggered a thought in my mind, which has led me to write this letter.
You know in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy had to tap her ruby red slippers and say, "There's no place like home" three times. Once she did that she managed to go home. I sat in that meeting musing over this thought. If I had magic ruby red slippers like that and said those words, where would they take me? Where does my subconsciousness consider home? Would it be Japan, Switzerland, America or even Indonesia?
People used to say, "Home is where the heart is," to which I would reply, "Home is where my pillow is." Seriously, even if I was staying overnight in a hotel and my sisters and I were eating dinner. If I was done, I would say, "Time to go home" meaning, back to the hotel room.
I was talking to a dear friend about this concept of home and they wisely pointed out to me, "Home is in heaven." I guess the saying, "Home is where the heart is" is true, because if heaven is our home and our hearts are living for God, then our hearts are in heaven.
It's funny, having lived in many different countries I occasionally get confused or frustrated by the question, "where are you from?" I don't know! Then when I try to figure it out and rank my countries by which is most like home, I get even more flustered, because honestly I can't rank them. Perhaps this is because, deep down, I know none of them are my true home. My home is in heaven, and I am patiently waiting for the day to finally go home and know it is home.
That was my thought for the day,
What thoughts have you had recently?
Your friend,
Rebekah
Friday, March 25, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Rain and Quakes
Dear Friend,
I am lying on my bed listening to the rain outside. I love the smell and sound of rain, especially when you are safe at home in the afternoon after a long day of work. It is so peaceful and calming... until the thunder comes, that is. You know that great smell rain has? Well here I get to smell that smell all the time. In Indonesia the houses have two front doors, one that is wooden and one that has a metal screen. Then there is also a backdoor that leads out to the kitchen and washing area. That door also has the two doors. During the day both wooden doors are opened and just the screen doors are closed. This allows the wind to blow through the house instead of having an air conditioner. Since these doors are always open, I can be sitting at my table and smell that great afternoon rain smell without getting caught outside in the rain. All the floors are tiled, in the house and out the backdoor where the kitchen and washing machine are. There is an non-roofed space where we hang our clothes to dry during the day. When the rain hits the tile it makes a crisp popping sound, a little like the sound of a fountain. I also have a metal roof over part of the back area, which adds a melodious tone to the rainfall. It is raining now and the peacefulness inspired me to write you.
Since the massive earthquake in Japan, I have been thinking of my earthquake experiences. My friend, that I went to grade school with, is now working in Japan and she said it was worse than any earthquake she had ever experienced. In 7th grade we went on a field trip about safety and they had a little room that looked like a kitchen that you could stand in. They would make the room shake like an earthquake with a magnitude equal to the Kobe earthquake. That was strong and scary to feel even though it wasn't real. This current earthquake was so much stronger than that! I can't imagine how scary that must have been! Especially for a teacher in charge of little children. They had to evacuate the building and everything. I only remember having a real earthquake during school once, and it was so small we didn't even evacuate the building.
Growing up in Japan, earthquakes were an expected event. My mom always left our door ajar when we went to bed, not to let the light in, but to prevent the door from getting stuck if there was a big earthquake. She wanted us to be able to get out of our room easily. If your clothes are on fire, you stop drop and roll. If you experience an earthquake when you are sleeping this is our families routine: grab your pillow, hold it over your head, stand under the door frame of your room and if the earthquake persists, run to the dinning room and get under the table. I only remember having to run to the dining room table once when I was really little. Normally the earthquakes are small and my whole family stands under the door frames of our rooms, look at each other with our pillows wrapped around our heads, smile at the silly sight, then ask the question, "Did it stop?" "I think so." "Okay, well good-night again." Then we all go back to bed. Sometimes we would go turn on the TV to see where the earthquake originated from and how strong it was. Typically they were only 3's.
I remember one small earthquake that woke me up in the night. It was still early and the rest of my family was still awake. I ran to my door with my pillow clutched over my head. My sister was in the restroom right next to my room and I could hear her struggling to open the door. It was locked and in her haste and panic she was having trouble unlocking it. The sound of her trying to get out scared me so much that for a while I stopped closing the door when I used the restroom at home and I rarely ever locked the door after that.
Another time my family and I were at McDonalds for breakfast, a family tradition of ours. We were sitting on the second floor by the window. Sometimes we would feel the building shake and my dad said it was because a heavy truck drove by. Sure enough, looking out the window we could see a truck had just past. Just as we were finishing our breakfast we felt the floor shake more than normal and my dad said it was still just a truck, but when we looked out the window there was no truck in sight! What happened next was SO funny! My family of 5 tried to get down on the floor under the small tables at McDonalds, except my dad. He sat there eating until we pulled him under the table. We were sitting in a booth where the chairs don't push back and there definitly was not enough room for all of us under there. We all started to laugh at how ridiculous we looked. We were finished with breakfast and quickly got into our car to run home and see how big of an earthquake it was. Of course the information wasn't on the TV anymore because we lived at least 15 minutes away, but we still hurried home, just in case we could see.
Those are my small earthquake experiences. My stories are kind of silly and I am in no way trying to make light of what happened in Japan. Not at all. It is a devastating event. Watching the news and seeing all the pictures and footage is just unbelievable to me. To see my strong country smashed into devastation in a manner of seconds is jaw dropping. I know the whole country wasn't wiped out, but to see even a part of it harmed is unbelievable. It is amazing to see the strength of the Japanese as they work together to get through this all. May God's light be seen through all of this!
Keep praying for Japan.
RES
I am lying on my bed listening to the rain outside. I love the smell and sound of rain, especially when you are safe at home in the afternoon after a long day of work. It is so peaceful and calming... until the thunder comes, that is. You know that great smell rain has? Well here I get to smell that smell all the time. In Indonesia the houses have two front doors, one that is wooden and one that has a metal screen. Then there is also a backdoor that leads out to the kitchen and washing area. That door also has the two doors. During the day both wooden doors are opened and just the screen doors are closed. This allows the wind to blow through the house instead of having an air conditioner. Since these doors are always open, I can be sitting at my table and smell that great afternoon rain smell without getting caught outside in the rain. All the floors are tiled, in the house and out the backdoor where the kitchen and washing machine are. There is an non-roofed space where we hang our clothes to dry during the day. When the rain hits the tile it makes a crisp popping sound, a little like the sound of a fountain. I also have a metal roof over part of the back area, which adds a melodious tone to the rainfall. It is raining now and the peacefulness inspired me to write you.
Since the massive earthquake in Japan, I have been thinking of my earthquake experiences. My friend, that I went to grade school with, is now working in Japan and she said it was worse than any earthquake she had ever experienced. In 7th grade we went on a field trip about safety and they had a little room that looked like a kitchen that you could stand in. They would make the room shake like an earthquake with a magnitude equal to the Kobe earthquake. That was strong and scary to feel even though it wasn't real. This current earthquake was so much stronger than that! I can't imagine how scary that must have been! Especially for a teacher in charge of little children. They had to evacuate the building and everything. I only remember having a real earthquake during school once, and it was so small we didn't even evacuate the building.
Growing up in Japan, earthquakes were an expected event. My mom always left our door ajar when we went to bed, not to let the light in, but to prevent the door from getting stuck if there was a big earthquake. She wanted us to be able to get out of our room easily. If your clothes are on fire, you stop drop and roll. If you experience an earthquake when you are sleeping this is our families routine: grab your pillow, hold it over your head, stand under the door frame of your room and if the earthquake persists, run to the dinning room and get under the table. I only remember having to run to the dining room table once when I was really little. Normally the earthquakes are small and my whole family stands under the door frames of our rooms, look at each other with our pillows wrapped around our heads, smile at the silly sight, then ask the question, "Did it stop?" "I think so." "Okay, well good-night again." Then we all go back to bed. Sometimes we would go turn on the TV to see where the earthquake originated from and how strong it was. Typically they were only 3's.
I remember one small earthquake that woke me up in the night. It was still early and the rest of my family was still awake. I ran to my door with my pillow clutched over my head. My sister was in the restroom right next to my room and I could hear her struggling to open the door. It was locked and in her haste and panic she was having trouble unlocking it. The sound of her trying to get out scared me so much that for a while I stopped closing the door when I used the restroom at home and I rarely ever locked the door after that.
Another time my family and I were at McDonalds for breakfast, a family tradition of ours. We were sitting on the second floor by the window. Sometimes we would feel the building shake and my dad said it was because a heavy truck drove by. Sure enough, looking out the window we could see a truck had just past. Just as we were finishing our breakfast we felt the floor shake more than normal and my dad said it was still just a truck, but when we looked out the window there was no truck in sight! What happened next was SO funny! My family of 5 tried to get down on the floor under the small tables at McDonalds, except my dad. He sat there eating until we pulled him under the table. We were sitting in a booth where the chairs don't push back and there definitly was not enough room for all of us under there. We all started to laugh at how ridiculous we looked. We were finished with breakfast and quickly got into our car to run home and see how big of an earthquake it was. Of course the information wasn't on the TV anymore because we lived at least 15 minutes away, but we still hurried home, just in case we could see.
Those are my small earthquake experiences. My stories are kind of silly and I am in no way trying to make light of what happened in Japan. Not at all. It is a devastating event. Watching the news and seeing all the pictures and footage is just unbelievable to me. To see my strong country smashed into devastation in a manner of seconds is jaw dropping. I know the whole country wasn't wiped out, but to see even a part of it harmed is unbelievable. It is amazing to see the strength of the Japanese as they work together to get through this all. May God's light be seen through all of this!
Keep praying for Japan.
RES
Friday, March 18, 2011
Ice Cream Floats... or not
Dear Friend,
Last night I went to a friends house to hang out. She had asked me on Monday if I wanted to hang out and told me to think about what we should eat. All I could think of was, "I want to have an ice cream float." You know, with ice cream and coke (since it would probably be hard to find root beer here). So Friday comes around and I run to the convenient store to buy ice cream and coke. Now I had been thinking about these floats the whole week and was very excited. It's no fun to make an ice cream float for yourself, you have to have other people there.
I arrived at her house, got some glasses, and dished out the ice cream. The vanilla ice cream looked more yellow than white, but I figured it was just a different brand of ice cream. I slowly poured in the coke, watching the big bubbles form. It looked delicious! I grabbed my spoon and tried some of the bubbles... it tasted a little weird, not like a normal coke float. Perhaps the vanilla ice cream is just different than in America. I started to put the ice cream into the fridge while licking the ice cream scoop. That's when I realized it. The ice cream was not vanilla ice cream. It was DURIAN ice cream! Durian is this fruit that smells quite strong, some people might even say it smells like feet. I like durian, I can eat it, BUT NOT IN MY FLOAT! It totally changed the taste of the float. Sad day! So much for my much anticipated ice cream float!
It was a funny experience though. Now every time I buy ice cream I will make sure it says Vanilla and Chocolate and not Durian and Chocolate.
Perhaps we will just have to have the real ice cream floats when I see you next.
Your friend,
Rebekah E.
Last night I went to a friends house to hang out. She had asked me on Monday if I wanted to hang out and told me to think about what we should eat. All I could think of was, "I want to have an ice cream float." You know, with ice cream and coke (since it would probably be hard to find root beer here). So Friday comes around and I run to the convenient store to buy ice cream and coke. Now I had been thinking about these floats the whole week and was very excited. It's no fun to make an ice cream float for yourself, you have to have other people there.
I arrived at her house, got some glasses, and dished out the ice cream. The vanilla ice cream looked more yellow than white, but I figured it was just a different brand of ice cream. I slowly poured in the coke, watching the big bubbles form. It looked delicious! I grabbed my spoon and tried some of the bubbles... it tasted a little weird, not like a normal coke float. Perhaps the vanilla ice cream is just different than in America. I started to put the ice cream into the fridge while licking the ice cream scoop. That's when I realized it. The ice cream was not vanilla ice cream. It was DURIAN ice cream! Durian is this fruit that smells quite strong, some people might even say it smells like feet. I like durian, I can eat it, BUT NOT IN MY FLOAT! It totally changed the taste of the float. Sad day! So much for my much anticipated ice cream float!
It was a funny experience though. Now every time I buy ice cream I will make sure it says Vanilla and Chocolate and not Durian and Chocolate.
Perhaps we will just have to have the real ice cream floats when I see you next.
Your friend,
Rebekah E.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
From Ogre to Barbie
Dear Friend,
It's been quite a while since I last wrote. Life here has been good here I'm having fun and staying busy.
Keep praying for Japan, okay? Everyday I am checking the news and facebook feed to see the updates. It is unimaginable the amount of damage there is. I see the pictures and ask myself, "Is this really Japan?" But I know God's hand is in all of this and am excited to see how He uses this disaster to bring glory to his name.
So I have a few stories for you, hope you enjoy.
Well about a month or so ago I was at a bazzar raising money for an organization that helps street children. There were so many adorable little kids and babies there. The whole time I just wanted to hold them, make them laugh and twirl with them. I saw one adorable two year old boy with big ears try to put a backpack on; however, he had it upside down and it was all twisted up, so naturally I went over to help. I tried to hold out the backpack strap so he could put his arm through it. Instead of putting his arm in the straps, he looked at me as if I was an ogre, let go of the backpack, backed up slowly and then ran away. Ooppps! I felt so bad. At that moment I wished I wasn't a bulé! If I was Indonesian the kids wouldn't be scared of me and I would be able to play and laugh with them. It is not a fun feeling to think that kids are scared of you (or that you look like an ogre).
Well, a week later I went to a party and the birthday girl's four year old niece was there. I was sitting next to the birthday girl and her niece was standing in front of her. She did this adorable stretching motion, looking away from me, and her hand just happened to touch my arm and stay there for a while. It was so cute how curious she was to see if my skin felt the same even though it didn't look the same. Okay, so not every kid is scared of me, of course, her auntie knew me, so it was easier for her, right? So maybe I'm not an ogre.
That Sunday I was riding the bus from my church in Jakarta back to Cikarang. There was a 7-year old girl on the bus sitting in the front, while I was sitting more towards the back. She would often turn around to look at me; then we would make eye contact and smile. She started to stand up and play in the isle of the bus, nonchalantly making her way closer to where I was sitting. I watched as she sat 4 rows in front of me. Ten seconds later she would move back one row, 5 seconds later she would move back again. Now she was only two rows in front of me. Then she stood up and walked back to her seat in the front. Two minutes later she was back, trying again. Eventually she made it back to my row. Not knowing what to do, she just stood there and looked at me, so I held out my hand to say hello. She shook my hand and then went back to her seat in the front. A few minutes later she came back and sat in the row behind mine. She was fiddling with something, but I couldn't tell what it was. A little while later I noticed a candy sitting beside me. She had pushed the little candy between the seats to give me. I took the candy, held it up and asked her with my eyes and hands, "for me?" She nodded and I said, "Terima kasih" (Thank you) to which she replied "Sama sama" (You're welcome). She then moved forward a row to sit on the same row as me. After two minutes she went back to the front where her dad was.
Wow, maybe I'm not so scary after all if a child stranger is friendly enough to give me a chocolate mint candy. That made me feel better.
Just last week, I was on the same bus coming home. Unfortunately it was later in the day and the bus was packed. I sat in the backity-back because there were only about 3 seats left. On the next stop a lady holding a one and a half year old got on the bus and sat right next to me. The little baby boy stared at me with curiosity. He started to quietly sing a song, he clapped his hands and then reached his hand out and 'just happened' to touch my arm. He kept his hand there for a little, then moved it away. He did this a few more times, just to make sure my skin was still the same. SO CUTE! That settled it, I am not a scary person! What a relief!
I kind of feel like a doll because people are touching my arm to see if I am real or fake. Once, I had a teacher friend tell me, "When I was little I would play with barbies and think, people don't really have hair like this, but I was wrong, you hair is just like a barbies hair!" I don't quite agree with her, and don't really want to be equated with a barbie since in my mind a barbie is a blond headed unproportional bimbo, but it is kind of funny.
Anyways, those are my stories for you: from ogre to barbie.
Your friend till Niagra Falls,
Rebekah
It's been quite a while since I last wrote. Life here has been good here I'm having fun and staying busy.
Keep praying for Japan, okay? Everyday I am checking the news and facebook feed to see the updates. It is unimaginable the amount of damage there is. I see the pictures and ask myself, "Is this really Japan?" But I know God's hand is in all of this and am excited to see how He uses this disaster to bring glory to his name.
So I have a few stories for you, hope you enjoy.
Well about a month or so ago I was at a bazzar raising money for an organization that helps street children. There were so many adorable little kids and babies there. The whole time I just wanted to hold them, make them laugh and twirl with them. I saw one adorable two year old boy with big ears try to put a backpack on; however, he had it upside down and it was all twisted up, so naturally I went over to help. I tried to hold out the backpack strap so he could put his arm through it. Instead of putting his arm in the straps, he looked at me as if I was an ogre, let go of the backpack, backed up slowly and then ran away. Ooppps! I felt so bad. At that moment I wished I wasn't a bulé! If I was Indonesian the kids wouldn't be scared of me and I would be able to play and laugh with them. It is not a fun feeling to think that kids are scared of you (or that you look like an ogre).
Well, a week later I went to a party and the birthday girl's four year old niece was there. I was sitting next to the birthday girl and her niece was standing in front of her. She did this adorable stretching motion, looking away from me, and her hand just happened to touch my arm and stay there for a while. It was so cute how curious she was to see if my skin felt the same even though it didn't look the same. Okay, so not every kid is scared of me, of course, her auntie knew me, so it was easier for her, right? So maybe I'm not an ogre.
That Sunday I was riding the bus from my church in Jakarta back to Cikarang. There was a 7-year old girl on the bus sitting in the front, while I was sitting more towards the back. She would often turn around to look at me; then we would make eye contact and smile. She started to stand up and play in the isle of the bus, nonchalantly making her way closer to where I was sitting. I watched as she sat 4 rows in front of me. Ten seconds later she would move back one row, 5 seconds later she would move back again. Now she was only two rows in front of me. Then she stood up and walked back to her seat in the front. Two minutes later she was back, trying again. Eventually she made it back to my row. Not knowing what to do, she just stood there and looked at me, so I held out my hand to say hello. She shook my hand and then went back to her seat in the front. A few minutes later she came back and sat in the row behind mine. She was fiddling with something, but I couldn't tell what it was. A little while later I noticed a candy sitting beside me. She had pushed the little candy between the seats to give me. I took the candy, held it up and asked her with my eyes and hands, "for me?" She nodded and I said, "Terima kasih" (Thank you) to which she replied "Sama sama" (You're welcome). She then moved forward a row to sit on the same row as me. After two minutes she went back to the front where her dad was.
Wow, maybe I'm not so scary after all if a child stranger is friendly enough to give me a chocolate mint candy. That made me feel better.
Just last week, I was on the same bus coming home. Unfortunately it was later in the day and the bus was packed. I sat in the backity-back because there were only about 3 seats left. On the next stop a lady holding a one and a half year old got on the bus and sat right next to me. The little baby boy stared at me with curiosity. He started to quietly sing a song, he clapped his hands and then reached his hand out and 'just happened' to touch my arm. He kept his hand there for a little, then moved it away. He did this a few more times, just to make sure my skin was still the same. SO CUTE! That settled it, I am not a scary person! What a relief!
I kind of feel like a doll because people are touching my arm to see if I am real or fake. Once, I had a teacher friend tell me, "When I was little I would play with barbies and think, people don't really have hair like this, but I was wrong, you hair is just like a barbies hair!" I don't quite agree with her, and don't really want to be equated with a barbie since in my mind a barbie is a blond headed unproportional bimbo, but it is kind of funny.
Anyways, those are my stories for you: from ogre to barbie.
Your friend till Niagra Falls,
Rebekah
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