What Indonesia is doing to me

(Disclaimer: Most of this blog will sound awfully whiny, because, well, it is. But stick with it, or simply skip to the end).

Saturday was busy from the start. We had to get Tman to the JIS fields by 9:30AM for a soccer game. That meant leaving the house at 8:30 because A) we needed to navigate to JIS with my husband driving and B) you just can't predict the traffic, so better safe than late. It was a stressful drive, we made a couple wrong turns and then when we finally arrived, the guards at the gate wouldn't let us in because we didn't have a parking sticker. Who knew we needed a parking sticker? Tman and I jumped out of the car and ran to the fields while my husband sorted out the parking.

The morning was HOT HOT HOT with a cloudless sky and plenty of humidity. I entertained the four children in the shade of the bleachers while my husband cheered for Tman on the sidelines. CJ, who has decided that she doesn't want to wear diapers anymore (yay), but hasn't figured out potty training completely (ugh), poohed in her pants. I tromped across two fields with her to get to a bathroom and change her. Let's just say, by the end of the soccer game, I was not the cheeriest soul.

We had just an hour at home before needing to turn around and head back to the fields for Madi's soccer game. After getting lost...again...we finally arrived only to find out that we were half hour late for the game (I had read the email wrong!) Huge failure on my part which I felt horrible about. Madi played the second half of the game.

By the afternoon, I was ready for a break. Some pampering. Something!

So we joined two other mommy daughter teams and headed to a spa. Halleluiah! My heels have been dry and ugly for a month and the nail polish on my toes has been chipped for weeks. We arrived at the spa and I plopped in a chair. Turns out they only had one pedicurist...and she was already busy with a client. That was okay. I could wait in the peace and quiet.

My friends and daughters opted for other spa treatments: reflexology and a hair cream treatment. But I was going to hold out for a pedicure. One hour went by. Two hours went by. I asked the receptionist in broken Indonesian what was taking so long. The pedicurist was also doing a manicure AND a color job on the client. That was okay. I was still willing to wait.

And wait I did. Three hours went by. Everyone else drove home while I waited, patiently. I planned to just take a cab home. Finally I got my pedicure. And I confess, it was lovely. Almost worth the three hour wait. Almost.

I gave the receptionist my credit card to pay. But it didn't work in their machine. Embarrassed, I asked where the nearest ATM was. Luckily, it was close. I went downstairs to an ATM to pull out cash. But it didn't like my card, either! Panicked, I called my dear, sweet husband for help. I waited for another 40 minutes for him to arrive with cash.

Five hours after I arrived at the spa, I returned home. Grumpier than ever. I felt so sorry for myself. All I'd wanted was a nice time to relax and recharge. Surely I deserved some perks for living in Jakarta.

Today in church was testimony meeting. We were late (which drives me crazy) and there wasn't enough room on any benches for our family to sit together. I was ready to throw my hands up in the air and call it quits for the day.

Soon after the meeting began however, an elderly Indonesian man stood to bare his testimony. He stood straight and tall at the podium. His deep voice resonated in the chapel. I was in the middle of mental whining, when he said the following, "When I was growing up here in Jakarta, my parents didn't have very much. They didn't have enough money to send me to school. And they didn't have enough money to buy me clothes. But they loved me. And I knew it."

My mental whining was silenced as the magnitude of his humble statement hit me full force. I am so blessed. I have been blessed my entire life. Here, I had spent most of my weekend complaining and sulking, about trivial things like traffic, potty training, and (I'm ashamed) waiting for a pedicure, when I should have been counting my blessings.

And I realized at that moment that I have two choices. I can let Indonesia and all of its challenges turn me into an unhappy, whiny person. Or I can let Indonesia and all of its humble, wonderful people, turn me into a grateful person.

For now, I choose the latter. And hopefully, with practice, it will become habit.