Temple Blessings...in Bali

We arrive in Ubud at 2AM. The streets are strangely quiet, and the stars glitter above us. We are so excited to be here for the Ubud Writer's Conference. But we are too tired to truly appreciate the beautiful hotel, De Munut Balinese Resort, with the multiple pools, gardens, or even our private outdoor shower. We fall into bed utterly exhausted.

The next morning is a new day. I breath in the air, clean with a hint of flowers and fruit. The conference doesn't officially begin until Saturday, so we have a day to explore. Madi and I decide to try something new with my friend Shana (who is also here for the conference). We want to visit the Empul Temple. Our driver, Budi, explains this holy Hindu temple was built in 962AD. For over one thousand years, people have come to the temple to ask for blessings. With an adventurous attitude of "When in Bali do as the Balinese do" we drive north of Ubud to the temple.

Water pours from seventeen small fountains. I try to step into the cold water bravely. The icy water comes to my waist, and I can't see the bottom. We stand in line with a group of Balinese school children. We shiver together, our teeth chattering audibly.

 My feet maneuver blindly on the uneven stones. My toes grasp for balance. And I try not to think about what else might be at the bottom of the pool.

Moss drips with spring water, coating the black stone like carpet on the wall. Koi fish swim around my knees - I see flashes of bright orange and white. I wait in line for my turn. At the first fountain, I am tentative. I quickly duck my head in the water, soaking only the front half of my head and face.  The water is so cold I gasp, then panic reminding myself to keep my mouth closed and not swallow the water. I look up sheepishly at Budi who stands at the edge. "Your whole head" he instructs. "For full blessings, you must wash your whole head."

I am braver at the next fountain and submerge my head in the water. While the ladies in front of me offer their Hindu prayers, I offer my own prayers. I start with gratitude. I pray offering thanks for this day, this experience, my family, living in Indonesia, and my incredible job.

By the sixth and seventh fountain my prayers turn to pleas for blessings - blessings of health, joy for my children, to grow old with my sweet husband, safety, finding the right house for our family next year, publishing a book, health and happiness for my parents. My prayers pour forth like the constant water. And I am swept up in the whole experience. I think of the importance of water in my own religion - baptism, sacrament, washings and annointings. And by the time I've prayed and washed seventeen times, I feel very blessed indeed. 

Here we are at the end. Before getting out, I look down the long pool at the Balinese people waiting in line, and I know we are more alike than different. All of us pray for blessings. 

On the way out of the temple grounds, we walk through rows of shops and stalls. This beautiful Balinese child sands a Buda statue.  

She works alongside her mother. We pause for a moment to watch and admire. When we round the corner, I reach out and link arms with my own daughter. I am so grateful to be here with Madi. And I know absolutely, to be here in Bali with my daughter to attend a Writer's Conference, life doesn't get much better than this.

A new library for the Leprosy School

We get lost three times down the narrow, twisting roads, before finally arriving at the pink school behind the rumah sakit (hospital) in Tangerang.

But the search has been well worth it. The children of the leprosy village greet us with beaming smiles.

We arrive to attend the grand opening of the school's first library. Lena Paul, our relief society president, guided the project which involved cleaning and painting a storage room to convert it to a library. And then collecting and donating bookshelves and books.  

We enter the classroom and take turns reading a book from the new library. A missionary from Solo reads in the photo below:

We sing "Popcorn Popping" and "Primary Colors." But the favorite, by far, is "Head, Shoulder, Knees, and Toes."

Then the library tour! Oh the joy. The students file out of the class giggling with excitement, holding hands, smiling.

Then the strangest thing happens. The students stop just outside the library door. They pool at the bottom of the staircase. At first I think, "What's wrong?" Then I look closer. The children bend over to  remove their shoes as a show of respect. They line their shoes carefully on the ledge and enter the library.

A first look at the library.

Here, this darling boy puts his shoes back on after coming back from the library.

Following the library tour, we hand out a small bag to each child. The contents are simple: a pen, a sharpened pencil, and a small notebook. But you would have thought we were handing out tickets to Disney Land. Many of these children have never actually owned their very own pencil and pen before. 

What makes this moment even more special is the knowledge that the pens and pencils have been donated by Karen, my dear friend. Handing each pencil to their outstretched hand is like handing them love from my friend on the other side of the world. 

We walk to a stall at the edge of the school grounds to buy some bottled water. Packaged peanuts, bags of krupuk chips, boxed juices line the stall's shelves. A group of adults ask to take pictures with us. While one man holds his phone to take a picture, I notice the fingers on his right hand are missing and stunted to the middle knuckle as is the index finger on his left hand - a sure sign of leprosy. We converse with them. We shake their hands. They are the parents of the children at the school. 

As with all things here in Indonesia, although we have come to celebrate and to give a library and school supplies to this community, we leave with full hearts. 

My heart is grateful for children's smiles, for handshakes, for books, for a friend whose children sharpened 650 pencils to give to people thousands of miles away, and for the opportunity to meet a group of people who have so much stigma and physical pain but also have so much joy. 

Morning Drive

We pile in the car. We are a tangle of backpacks, instruments, laptops, lunch bags, and breakfast. I balance a red plastic bowl in my lap with my favorite breakfast: mixed berry yogurt with homemade granola (Katie's recipe), and my cocktail of vitamins (vitamin D, vitamin B, and acai berry).

Margono drives the car through the morning traffic. We stop suddenly as a motorcycle cuts in front of us. I hold tight to my bowl and waterbottle as an Ibu crosses the road flapping her hand at us (Indonesia's signal to let someone pass). Margono swerves to miss the occasional chicken and cat.

And somehow this mayhem of our morning routine has all become quite normal.

Inside the car, we eat, we chat, and we sometimes read (though the sudden stops and starts often lead to carsickness if we're not paying attention). We look outside at the hanging laundry, the bird cages, the motorcycle repair shops whose cement floors are black with grease, the colorful vegetable carts, and the children in their clean, pressed uniforms on their way to school.

My favorite part of these morning rides are the unique conversations I have with the kids. This week, Madi and I shared a choice moment.

Madi: "Look Mom, there's a monkey!" (Pause) "On a chain" (said sadly). "With his own tree house!" (Happy again).
I crane my neck to spot the monkey. Sure enough, there he is on a tree branch with a chain around his ankle. 
Madi: "I want a pet monkey."
I'm not sure how to respond to this so I say nothing.
Madi continues: "But what I really want is a bengal tiger!"
Me (in my mother-voice): "Bengal tigers are dangerous."
Madi: "Not when they are young. When they're young they're like kittens."
Me: "So at what point would the tiger be too old for us to keep?"
Madi pauses, thoughtfully. Then with absolute seriousness she says, "I suppose we'd know the tiger is too old when it eats Charlotte."

It was a good thing Charlotte was not present to hear about her sacrificial position in our family.

While we sometimes use our car time to philosophise and catch-up, very often our conversations (as demonstrated above) lean toward the absurd.

Perhaps it's the exhaust and delusion-inducing nausea??

Someone Got Braces!!

One week ago, Leasie got braces!

We opted to do braces here in Jakarta because of the cost savings (about 2/3 price of braces in America). While we had horrible, torturous experiences here our first year with dentists, the orthodontics seems to be very good.

We chose Hilly Dental because of its good reputation and close proximity to our house. Leasie and I walked to Hero grocery store, then took a Bajai for $2 the rest of the way. Ten minutes from the moment we left our house, we entered the waiting room. (That's a record for going anywhere in Jakarta!)

The dental office reminds me of Balinese villas because it is a series of small buildings connected by courtyards with Koi fish ponds and blooming lilies. I think the ambiance comforted Leasie's nerves.

One hour later she had a gleaming silver smile! I think it makes her look at least two years older!

She's been a trooper - she didn't complain too much about her sore mouth, she brushes her teeth diligently, and she's been careful to avoid popcorn (a true sacrifice!)

Only 9 months to go...

Sometimes the World Comes into Focus

There are moments in my life when events and experiences seem to trigger something in my heart and soul. And it is as if there is a tangible click. Often, these moments help me see the world in a new way, and I see my place in the world in a new way.

These past few days, such an experience occurred.

One of my colleagues in the high school English dept, Shana Gilbert, used to be a producer of documentaries. This past week she got a call from a former student who was shooting a short film that will be shown at the Global Citizen concert in central Park at NYC on Sept. 28. (Click on the link to watch a PR video on the event).

The filmmakers originally planned to make the film in India, but with Visa complications, they needed a new venue. With my Shana's support and a quick script rewrite, they jumped on a plane and arrived in Jakarta Friday night.

I was mostly on the peripheral of this whole experience. But I did get to bring two of my English classes to a presentation and Q&A session with the filmmakers. We listened to Jonathan Olinger talk about the filming process and watch raw footage of the film.Their short film is about an Indonesian mother in the future (the year 2045) who tells a bedtime story to her daughter about what poverty used to look like. Then the film flashes back to the present (2013) where we see a young girl living in the slums of Jakarta and her challenges.

In the raw footage we saw poignant scenes of a young Indonesian girl born with all the disadvantages you can imagine. She was beautiful on many levels in the midst of crumbling buildings, laundry strung between tin shacks, and barefeet on dirt floors. Her genuine smile and equally genuine hurt represented humanism and optimism in the most humble circumstances.

While watching the film, something inside me clicked. The young Indonesian girl in the film represented the poverty I see and accept every day here in Jakarta. And somehow seeing it on film made my heart break. You see, I have the luxury of teaching and philosophising about global controversies like poverty and women's rights in a nice, clean classroom knowing that when school is finished I will return home to a house with running water and electricity. Education isn't a bonus, it's an expectation. Food on the table isn't even in my top list of 100 worries. Access to good medical care is guaranteed. I have so much to be grateful for...and such a responsibility to give back.

I felt extremely inspired by the filmmaker, Jonathan Olinger of dtj.org, who as one of my students said, "Restored my hope in humanity." In a very simple way, he has dedicated his life to make a difference in this world. I was inspired by his story and his calm passion about what our world can truly become.

On Sept. 28, 60,000 people will watch this short film in NYC and 1.5 million more will watch in live via the internet. But it's something I see every day in Jakarta. In a moment of rare clarity I realized how powerful even the smallest change can be.

It's not about the NYC concert. It's not about film. It's not about teaching or students. It's not even about these ambitious, but attainable, UN Global Citizen goals. It is about one person having a vision for what our future world could be and deciding to make a difference right now.

Just a few pictures:

On the set of the short film (future 2045 setting).

 On the set in the slums of Jakarta:

In the classroom, hearing Jonathan talk about his experience as a documentarian (I'm in the back row):

Now when my students or my own children ask the question, "What can I do?" I have a concrete example.

There are good people in the world doing good things.

They inspire me to be better and do more.

The world has so many thunderous problems. But it also has so many amazing people.

We just need to choose to act.

First Days

The first morning of school...it was a mad dash! Gobbling down breakfast, grabbing lunches from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and taking backpacks lined along the wall near the front door. There was very little time for philosophising or emotions. We had a moment of small peace during family prayer...then we were out the door.  

So many firsts! This was Leasie's first day of Middle School - how blessed she was to have her big sister there to ride the bus with and reassure her that all would be well. First day of 4th grade for Tman and Meya.

This was also my first day as a full time high school teacher. I had all the mixed emotions you can expect. (Am I doing the right thing? Will I be a good teacher? Will I be a good mom? Can I balance the stress of teaching? Will my children need therapy in the future because of this decision?) But mostly I felt blessed to have this opportunity to make and save some money, do something I LOVE, and get to experience school with the kids. (I could NOT do the full time gig without Yuli - our full time maid/nanny/amazing lady! - more to come about her in future blogs). 

CJ took the picture below of us as the buses waited in our driveway. I like the way it seems a bit dreamlike with the out-of-focus light over my shoulder. This is the way I remember the morning - almost dreamlike in the frenzy and excitement.

Just one week later, CJ joined us in the "firsts" category. She started Kindergarten! This beginning did not occur without a few hiccups. We had wanted her to join us at Jakarta International School, but she did not meet the age cutoff. Last spring, we tried everything to convince JIS to make an exception. We had VA county school information sent, we involved the embassy liaison, and even tried to pull strings with friends who serve on the JIS board of trustees. I thought maybe I'd have special pull as a JIS teacher. But JIS did not budge.

CJ was ready for Kindergarten, and if we were in the US she made the VA county school deadline. So I was very frustrated by the denial. But I picked myself up and got to work investigating different school options. We found a wonderful Montessori school...just walking distance from our house. We got approval from the embassy and registered her. In the end, I think this is exactly where Heavenly Father wanted her to be. It is a good fit. And although I would have preferred she was close to the rest of us, she has a wonderful teacher and only 5 children in her class - so she gets lots of teacher attention.  

CJ is used to being left behind...so you can imagine her excitement to be one of the "big kids" finally going to school.

There were no tears from me on this happy day. You can read past blogs about first school days where I was an emotional wreck. Not today. I knew CJ was ready, and I knew she was going to be happy. (There was also the fact that Owen suffered a major head wound the same morning while exercising, and we were bandaging him up and making medical arrangements for him. Oh the trauma!)

I love this picture of CJ at 6:30pm that same evening. During family home evening we looked over and saw her head bobbing in pure exhaustion. We carried her upstairs, changed her into pjs, and she slept until morning. 

A letter to my Children

My Dear Children,

Although the summer is three weeks in our past, I couldn’t leave it behind without a few parting thoughts.

This was the summer we ate the most delicious bread in the world.  Do you remember the day we enjoyed pastries, gelato, giant soft pretzels dipped in sugar, and éclairs (all in one day!)? Do you remember walking to the bread shop in Munster on the cobblestone sidewalks and ordering practically one of everything?

This was the summer we climbed the steps of Notre Dame helping CJ look for Quasimodo. We gasped as the lights of the Eiffel Tower twinkled, and we huddled together in the cold wind. 

This was the summer Tman, Meya, and CJ were introduced to Utah. I loved watching you all play barefoot in the creek for hours at the park near Aunt Connie’s house.

We ended our “Musical fast” and went to two shows: Ragtime and Mulan. Joy!

This was the summer of your first concert: Kelly Clarkson and Carly Rae Jepson at the Stadium of Fire. We boogied and sang in the stands. Your faces reflected the lights of the fireworks: red, green, blue, and yellow. I cried as they offered a prayer for the Americans serving overseas and thought of your Dad.

This was the summer of a long drive to and from St. George on wonderfully open roads. Madi, you kept me company while the rest of the children slept. Remember “no services” in Holden, the mirage town? Beaver – voted as having the best water in the country? “I spy…sage brush.” Remember watching the sky fall in sheets of grey from mountainous clouds?

This was the summer of tender mercies – Heavenly Father allowed us to see our dear friends the Andersons and the Petersons. An afternoon at a park, a dinner on the 4^th of July, and a reunion at Olive Garden.

This was the summer of the calico critter zombie musical. The summer of “The One and Only Ivan.” Who knew a story about a gorilla and elephant could tug on my heart? And this was the summer we realized just how much Jakarta has become “home to us.”

Sure, there was the storm and flood near Paris when we thought we were going to die (for real). And of course the elephant-ankles after the 30 hours of air travel. There was the broken-but-not-broken air conditioner in the car and the horrendously expensive car rental. There was also the lost camcorder and iphone which still makes me nauseous. And of course, there was the last 12 hours in America when I did "the chicken" (squawking with flapping arms) in a panic because of the stress of packing. But in spite of these less than stellar moments, when I look back on the summer, I find myself wondering just what I could have done to deserve this much joy.

Thank you for spending the best summer of my life with me.  

Love,

Mom