Slip of the Tongue

For those of you who have every learned a second language, here are some of my most recent faux pas.

When being asked about "orang miskin" (poor people), I replied that "orang kismis" (raisin people) are loved of God and need to be invited into our homes to eat.

When being asked how I interact with my neighbors, I replied that I generally "bercium kepada ibu-ibu" (kiss the women), rather than "berseyum kepada ibu-ibu" (smile at the women).

My friends here have even funnier mishaps, but that will have to be their own confession rather than my juicy gossip. Please pray for my language acquisition. Blessings.

Who Will You Be Tomorrow?

Our first year here I taught 8th grade English. Those cute kids bounced around, talked when they should have been working, played when they should have been studying, and performed an appropriately silly play. They were kids. They did kid stuff.

This year they're graduating. The girls are young women; the boys, young men. Colleges expect them in August and parents are striving to let them go.

I had soto (chicken soup with rice) with one of them yesterday. Justin and I used to meet weekly when he was in 8th and 9th grades for mentoring. He was wonderfully creative and full of energy, but unfocused as one would expect for a boy of that age. At times it was difficult for me to imagine him as an adult, even though I knew it was soon to come. Yesterday Justin sat across from me as a man. He's just as creative, if not more so, but his maturity and self-control prove him to be ready for this next step.

Graduation is one of life's early traumas. We end what we've known for our entire lives, exchanging it for independence, increased financial responsibility, and new friends. Many of us move to far away places (especially my students -- now on five continents) where we know no one. But seeing Justin again, I have two hopeful anticipations for him and his classmates. First, that they have been well prepared for this leap of faith and responsibility. We have loved them deeply, sacrificially, and transparently. And when they slip, they have not only the skills but also the faith to get back up and walk forward again. Second, just as Justin is a new creation compared to his 8th grade self, so will he be renewed again in four more short years. The hope, then, is that each one of them will be today whom they hope to be in the future. When we conscientiously envision who we'd like to be someday, we then are ready to act and think like that person today.

To my soon to graduate friends: Live today the life that you hope to live tomorrow. Character, maturity, and faithfulness do not come to the aimless but to the visionaries.

Sitting Serenely

The wonder and magic of any place is found in a complex combination of people, culture, smells, sounds, sights, and sentiment. But sometimes that complexity fades and one simple attribute stirs the senses. For me, the view of Mt. Merbabu in the morning wearing a cap of white cloud does this.

Thursdays I have no classes. Sometimes I go to a pretty place to sit and read, to write and listen. Other days I play saxophone for hours on end. This past Thursday I did a lot of nothing, and it was beautiful. With all the trips I've recently taken, all the studying I've been doing, and all the illnesses we've been through, sitting serenely at the foot of Merbabu with no pressing responsibilities was like coming up for air after a long swim. I felt out of breath, out of steam, just out.

By early afternoon Merbabu's little white cap transforms into a long cloak hiding its majesty among the threatening sky. White turns to gray and gray to rain. It seems the whole earth stops to bathe. The winds and rains wash away the smoke, dust, and litter from the day. And by morning, Merbabu once again comes out wearing its familiar cap to stretch in the fresh light before it takes another bath.