Litmus Test

Soon after we arrived in Jakarta, my husband gathered us together in the living room. We sat on the brown embassy-supplied couches and chairs. From our temporary quarters on the 26th floor of an apartment building, the view of the city spread out before us as far as we could see only to be swallowed up in the haze at the edges, fuzzy like an out-of-focus photograph. We had unpacked our suitcases, filled closets, and yet we still felt like visitors staying at a hotel.

My husband asked each of us to say one positive thing and one negative thing about our experience thus far in Indonesia.

I can't remember the exact responses at this first meeting (how I regret not writing them down). My complaint was probably about the difficulty I was having with jet lag and its unexpected, flu-like brutality or the heartbreaking poverty we witnessed on a daily basis. And I'm pretty sure the kids complained about traffic, missing friends and feeling lost, displaced, "homeless." The negatives came easy, spilling off our tongues in long lists. The positives were harder to come up with. Some of us, more than others, really struggled to come up with something good to say at all.

We wanted to be here. But the transition was more difficult than any of us expected.

For the next two months, my husband repeated this sharing time. We began referring to it as our "family litmus test" - it was an opportunity to listen to the kids and gauge how they were coping. It was also extremely therapeutic to be able to vent my frustrations too.

Little by little, meeting by meeting, a change began to occur. Slowly our negative and positive responses evened out. And then, at some point into our experience, we started sharing our positives first and the negatives became less related specifically to Indonesia and more just about the general struggles with life--struggles we would have whether we were in America or in Asia. And about three months after moving here, the regular "family litmus tests" were no longer even necessary. The transition part of this experience was done.

Our sixth month anniversary of living in Indonesia came and went without fanfare. It was a normal day. I got up and made the kids a pancake breakfast, they boarded the blue and pink school buses and drove through the morning traffic to school. I shopped at the grocery store, bought fresh papaya and mangoes, and played with CJ. We ate dinner together.

Only when I lay in bed that night and realized what day it was, did I look at the day differently. And there in the dark, I did my own version of our family litmus test.

In spite of the sickness that has ravaged our family over the past three weeks (a BIG negative), these recent pictures came to mind, which pretty much sum up how were doing:


CJ and her friend Teagan walking home from the swimming pool.
Tman and his friend Justin after playing soccer on the futsal court behind our house.
Indonesian laborers walking to work. I came up behind these men on my morning run. Right after I snapped this picture with my cell phone the man in the back turned around and greeted me with "Salamut Pagi Bu" (Good morning Ma'am). Then he smiled, as all Indonesians seem to have a talent for--a smile that lit up his work-hardened face.

A smile that made me grateful to be here.