the magic tap

"The water pressure is dropping!"

This statement gets used at our house every day lately, 

and I rush to fill a tub to carry us through lunch time. 

We've had very little rain, and the river is low, and the land is parched with thirst,

and dust clouds blow billows through our front windows,

while my dust cloths do endless duty inside, trying to effect some semblance of clean.

In an effort to conserve what there is of the water, the city is daily shutting off our supply - 

sometimes at 8 in the morning, sometimes at 11, sometimes in the evening - 

for an hour, or maybe 4 hours at a time.

But we've noticed that, even if the water in the entire house is out,

this one tap inside the downstairs shower seems to continue to run for just a little while longer.

Michael calls it my 'magic tap.'

How often do we think to sincerely thank God for water?

For the beautiful, cleansing, refreshing water that flows ceaselessly from our taps?

Heartfelt thanks that it's clean;

fit to quench our thirst without needing to be boiled?

Our water outages are an inconvenience, yes.  

It's a challenge to do a load of laundry without running water, 

or to make a pot of vegetable soup,

or to shower after soccer practice.

But the outages also have been a means to grow my thankfulness for this precious gift of water,

and for taps that carry it straight into our home.

Much of the world has no such luxury.

But I do see the good side of water now. 

How good it is when you're really thirsty, 

how it glitters and gurgles! 

How alive it is! 

~G.K. Chesterton

home for Christmas

"...in the Tropics you have sun strokes varied by thunderbolts. 

But all these you have on a broad and brutal scale, 

and you settle down into contentment or despair. "

~G.K. Chesterton

our thermometer as I opened the box of ornaments

It seems to me a serious incongruity - decorating for Christmas in 90 degree weather, with a grueling heat index of 107.  But without much climate change on this island, the decorating helps us to mark the passage of time, the movement from one season to another.  The cinnamon apple candles and poinsettia flowers somehow adjust our inner clocks, making us realize that it's really not still summertime, despite the perpetual summer weather.

And the Christmas traditions when far from our home country seem almost more important for our emotional well-being than they were in America.  So we turn on the fan and the Christmas music, and put up our little tree and hang the wreaths and sing "Let it Snow!" while drinking ice water to keep hydrated. 

The Nativity set is placed in its spot on the window sill, where the glaring morning sun bathes it in radiance.  And I smile to think that Christ came to this earth for men who live in every latitude, every climate.  The hope of the incarnation is not indelibly linked to our western traditions of snowy lawns glowing in Christmas lights, or cozy fires, or stockings on the mantle. 

So it's time for me to settle down into contentment; to celebrate in our tropical heat the gift Christ gave in leaving His home country to enter ours so that we can someday go Home for Christmas.

one inch high and rising

Mark and I were on Skype with our supervisor in the US

when our kids opened the door at 9:30 last night.

"Sorry to interrupt," they said, "but the house is flooding."

I turned around in my chair, and sure enough, 

12 inches behind me stood a pool of water that had silently ebbed in through the door.  

That Skype call ended quick.  (Sorry, J!)

water seeping into the study

Earlier in the evening heavy rain had begun, accompanied by impressive lightning

 and thunder that seemed to clap right over our roof.

Elise had come in to where we were reading and said,

"I need some help out here." 

The driving rain was pelting through windows, and our kitchen counters and floor were drenched.

We mopped it up pretty quickly, and joined our neighbor in the driveway to watch the water flow by in the street outside.  Though it lapped at our gate, it didn't come in.

So we had closed things up for the night and proceeded with our scheduled Skype

to the sound of falling rain outside the window,

unaware that the water was rising higher than it's ever risen in our neighborhood.

outside our front door, shoes float around our neighbor's vehicle

When the kids interrupted our call,

the water had filled our driveway, 

floating door mat, shoes and trash can in our driveway

and was seeping through the front door into the living room.

We now know the low spots at our house:

our study and our bedroom.

not so much water, but enough to make a mess!

(Thankfully it's not the bodega, Becky and Lorine!)

Water also seeped from the sewer up through the shower drain in the bathroom,

into our study.  Not the pleasantest of smells.

When the water on the street outside your house is this high

both the above photos taken from our deck

 there's really not much you can do about draining your floors.

(It was just an inch or two inside, so very minor water, guys!)

Michael did rig up his little water pump, 

and filled buckets full of dirty water!

(He dumped them down the shower until we realized that the sewage was backing up...)

We gave thanks for an upstairs, 

and took our mattress up to camp out on the landing for the night.

This morning the water levels had dropped,

so we made breakfast around the piles of furniture staying dry in our kitchen,

and got to work emptying rooms, sopping up water, and getting things clean and dry.

We're giving thanks today...

that our house doesn't usually flood,

for health and strength to clean up the mess,

for running water to clean (it was shut off last night)

and for home and safety and all of God's goodness to teach us more thankfulness 

even through a flood.

The LORD sits enthroned over the flood; 

the LORD sits enthroned as king forever.

Psalm 29:10

rest in His goodness

The rain has stopped, 

and the sun showed its face today, drying my backed-up laundry, 

and the muddy homes of thousands whose houses flooded this weekend.  

This quote from Joni Eareckson Tada put things in perspective for me today:

“I’m grateful that He only allows to slip through His sovereign fingers 

that which He’s convinced will help our souls and fit us better for eternity.”

What comfort, to rest in His goodness...

water under the bridge

Saturday afternoon here in Davao the rain began to fall.

And it wouldn't stop.  All through the night,

into Sunday morning, rain continued to descend.

 As the tide rose, too,

the Davao River began to swell and flood,

and some of the houses like these below were swept away,
devoured by the surge.

Walls from other homes at the river's edge were ripped away,

leaving a cutaway view inside, 

and for those families, an alarming view of the rushing river below.

Several local neighborhoods were flooded.

Mark captured these photos as we rode home from church yesterday.

 People hauled their belongings out to drier land, 

anxiously wondering how much higher the waters would rise.

Down side streets we glimpsed Filipinos wading through waters up to their chest.

 Over 30,000 Davao residents evacuated their homes this weekend,

often leaving one family member behind to protect their possessions from looters.

 As we crossed over the Davao River yesterday,

crowds lined the bridge, apprehensively watching the rushing river.

We're thankful that the rain finally did stop later on Sunday,

and when Mark ran through some of these same neighborhoods Monday morning, 

he found that the water had receded significantly.

**but in waking during Monday night I again heard the rain falling,
and now, Tuesday morning, it continues to pour.
Join us in praying for the families who have lost their homes, 
and for grace to those around us who are working to practically help them...

Muddy Michael, second from right...

We've had no flooding in our street,

but all that mud sure did make for a colorful bunch of Ultimate Frisbee players on Sunday afternoon!

bopha

Typhoon Bopha struck the island of Mindanao, where we live and work, last week, killing over 600, and leaving hundreds of others missing.  It's hauntingly reminiscent of the typhoon that struck the island just last December, leaving over 1,000 dead, and thousands more without homes.

The typhoon didn't touch the city where we live.  But our sweet friend and helper, Bebeng, saw her family out in Compostella, a rural area of Mindanao, lose everything in this typhoon.

Bebeng

Their house flooded, and the corrugated tin roof was blown completely off.  Their coconut and banana trees were demolished; their means of livelihood gone. Then the government evacuated the family, fearing the danger if a local dam would break with the heavy rain.

photo from usatoday.com

By the time the family returned to their property, looters had been through, taking much of worth.  They were able to find enough roofing to cover a portion of the damaged home where they can sleep, but the rest of the roof was rusted and mangled by the winds.  Bebeng's parents and her widowed sister and six children are waiting in lines for food, wondering what is to become of them.

With no welfare system in place, no flood insurance policies or national assistance, this family, and hundreds of others like them, will borrow and make do and hope for others to help them.

Already people who know and love Bebeng in the city of Davao are reaching out to help.  It's an opportunity for the gospel to take on hands and feet for her family who don't know the Lord.  Pray with us that as help is distributed by the Body of Christ, that Bebeng's family would see the love of God toward them, and respond in faith. As deep as their material need is now, we know their greatest need is for the redemption that will last into eternity.

roaring and tumult

 O God of our salvation,
the hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas;

 

who stills the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
the tumult of the peoples,
so that those who dwell at the ends of the earth 

are in awe at your signs.

Psalm 65:5,7 and 8 

Standing in awe of God's power today, as Hurricane Sandy hits 

the east coast of the United States 

 and we are reminded again of Who is really in control.

 

taken at the flood

There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.

Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.

-William Shakespeare

Lightning flashes.  Thunder rolls. Tropical torrents fall.

And Rachel quietly drives their motorcycle to higher ground through the wild drenched dark streets, hoping to let her weary husband sleep through it all.

By 10:30 she knows it’s not to be.  After rousing him, they begin together to shift things away from the incoming water seeping, trickling in at the door. It’s the same routine they’ve used before. Couch on top of coffee table, chairs on top of couch.  As much as possible loaded on the stair landing; pile the dining room table high.

There’s not much more that can be done.  So it’s back to bed, listening to the falling rain.  Until they hear a midnight crash.  He descends to find the dining room chairs drifting in gentle two-foot waves of the lake that was his living room.  Then he spies it: the refrigerator, on its side, floating like an ark through the flood. 

By morning light they’re smiling, joking about the lengths they’ll go to get a little help mopping their floors.  Drenched furniture mingles with soaked diapers and dripping kitchen pans perch in the sun to dry.   Mops and brooms and buckets of bleach water turned black with silt and sludge fill the house.  That ark of a fridge is righted and opened and the eggs are unbroken and there’s a casserole ready for lunch, and they’ll be living without an operating fridge til this crazy thing dries out a little.  

Rachel smiles and says it will make life simpler to have no refrigerator.

As if this flood was a good thing. 

As if all this mess, all this work, all this upheaval was really okay.

Is it a good thing? 

Well, if you believe in God’s sovereignty, maybe it is.

Maybe it is really okay.

And though He does not deprive me of feeling in my trial, 
He enables me to sing, Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, 
I will joy in the God of my salvation.  
Thus I do rejoice by His grace and will rejoice and praise Him 
while He lends me breath.  
Now I am happy in my Savior’s love.  
I can thank Him for all, even the most painful experiences of the past, 
and trust Him without fear for all that is to come.

– Hudson Taylor

There was a tide in this young woman's life, which taken at the flood determined her course.  You, Rachel, chose to not be trapped in misery despite the invasion of filthy brown street water up past your knees, filling your kitchen cabinets with dirt and your entire day with relentless back-breaking work.  You chose not to complain and be bitter and angry and understandably snappy and frustrated.  Instead you chose to go with the flow of what God allowed, and to smile and give thanks. 

Thank you for showing me what it looks like to not be bound in shallows and miseries, 
but to be afloat in a wealth of joy.

*this story of Rachel, my American friend and co-worker, is shared with her consent. thanks, Rach!

a Christmas to forget

Her name was Washi, but she's also known as Sendong.  

She swept across this island of ours on Saturday night, 

and claimed almost 1,000 lives. (Source: BBC)

Many victims in coastal towns slept as she flashed into their homes at high tide,

washing them, and their entire villages out to sea.

Mass burials are being organized, 

and relief for tens of thousands of people in need of clean water, food and medicines.

Our home is in Davao, and we felt no effects of the flooding.


But we have friends who did, and they are deeply grateful 
to have only been flooded knee-high.


And we have friends who have family in flooded areas - one who was killed,
others who have simply lost
everything.

Is God really still in control?

We believe He is.

Even the winds and the waves obey His voice.

But please be praying for those who are facing 

a Christmas to forget.

People who have lost loved ones,

homes, whole villages,

everything they ever held dear on this earth.

Then hold those you love dearly a little closer this Christmas.

And give thanks...

the rest of the story

Pots of chicken curry, pounds of fruit salad, a basket full of fresh rolls, two big frosted chocolate cakes and a vegetable platter with dip sat waiting in our kitchen. 

And we sat waiting, too.

I had planned so carefully.  I'd been collecting food for a week, cooking for the whole day.  The living room was rearranged, and everything was ready for a houseful of guests - fellow believers who would meet together to eat dinner and pray.  I had wanted to bless these people - lovely Filipinos who have welcomed us despite our differences as brothers and sisters in Christ.  I wanted to serve them, and to honor them with plenty of good food, and a pleasant place to meet to pray.


 But...

The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,
Gang aft agley, 

-Robert Burns

Outside the rain fell.  And fell some more. I've never seen our street so full of water.

Michael sloshed through it to carry some flip flops up to Mark at the office so that he could walk home without drenching his shoes.

And the texts began to fly.

'We are waiting for the rain to subside - we'll try to be there in an hour.'

'Our street is flooded, and there are no taxis or jeeps running - we won't be able to come.'

'My husband is planning to come; he's waiting now for some sort of transportation.'

'I have made it to Torres street, but I see no transport from here.'

'I'm still waiting on Torres - there are lots of others waiting, too, but there are not many vehicles going through.'

An hour later - 'I am still waiting on Torres, but I'm thinking of going home instead.  I don't see any way to get to your place.'

It was about that time that our family gave up and started eating dinner.  To my western mind, there's just no way that anyone would brave this storm, this flood water, *just* to come together to pray.  I sadly began to put the food away. I'd so wanted this food to be a blessing.  I don't love to cook, but I had cooked this food with joy, as I thought of how it would be shared.  I walked into our school room and saw the note on our white board this week...

Ultimately, I had not done it for them, but for Him.  For His glory.  These circumstances had not surprised Him, and though the people were not there to be blessed, all was well.

And then, out on the street we heard a small voice, "Aiyo?"  It was after 7pm.  Our sweet friend Tata had spent 2 hours in transit to come to pray.  She had braved the waters, taken three jeepneys, saw a car up to its hood in water, and sat through horrible traffic jams just to join us.

Half an hour later two others arrived also.  Here are the three brave souls who made it through.

We fed them lots of curry and chocolate cake,

then bowed in prayer with them,

bilingually coming before the throne.

How humbling to hear them pray for each of our family by name-

these faithful hearts who would brave such weather

to meet in prayer.

 

 As the girls and I boxed up the remaining food to send home with them for their families,

I realized that God had given me back the joy of being able to feed

some of those I had in mind while I prepared.

 It wasn't the way I planned,

but God's good way instead.

gallons of curry

Elise layers the various colors of napkins - just for fun!

Today...

we're preparing to host a group from church 

for dinner and prayer.

But it's raining cats and dogs,

the streets are flooding higher than I've ever seen them,

and we wonder if anyone will come

to eat the gallons of chicken curry

and two chocolate cakes.

Want to join us for dinner anyone?!?

:smile:

surfin' in the rain

It was Thursday morning
when Mark returned home directly after leaving for work.

"I made it to the end of the street, but from there it's just not passable."

Incredible. 
I knew it was raining hard,
too poundingly hard on our roof to hear one another speak without raising voices,
but this I've got to see.

So I went out to explore, 

and below is what greeted my eyes...

Yep.  It was pretty wet out there.  Water up to the curb.

A few trikes and taxis were still forging their way through, 
but progress was pretty slow.

I couldn't walk  far without being underwater.

Up ahead I spotted movement in the water.  
This toad swam across the road and hopped up onto the pavement on the other side!  
I wonder if he's the one I saw in the cat food dish at our house the other day?

Not everyone was deterred by the rain. 
A friend said she saw someone in up to their knees.

Mark finally rolled up his pant legs 
and packed a towel and office shoes in a bag so he could get into work.

And yes, there really and truly were guys surfing on our street in the rain.

I'm sorry I didn't get a better action shot, but here they are waiting for a wave to break.  
Or maybe they were just laughing at the crazy woman down the street 
standing out in this rain with a camera.

Michael had no surf board, so he did the next best thing.

And as if the heavens hadn't blessed us with enough water for one day,
Michael had a friend over for some water balloon wars.

The poor cat. 
She was traumatized by all the day's water. 

We are thankful to live on pretty high ground. 

Not everyone has it so good. 
That street water sludge floods the homes
of more than one friend in the area when it gets so deep.

**********************
Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. 

Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.
Gilbert K. Chesterton