Sewing a quiet seam, stiching together a new life. --QM

We have been in Greenwood, DE for two weeks now, and the sheet has been hung in a retirement cottage, just a stone's throw from the Country Rest Home. Here is a picture, for proof:

We've settled in quickly, pulled all our boxes out from the attic (James and Dorie positively squealed when reacquainted with their forgotten toys), made many short trips to see Grandma Polly and Grandma Alene, looked into possible education options for Ethan, and I was hired for a part-time position as a para-professional, working with an adult education program. What a whirl-wind of a beginning! I've been excited and thankful for this chance to be here with my family and Delaware friends, but when I have a still moment, and look inward, I feel the faint catch in my throat of disappointment. In my mind's eye I see us a few years ago, the last time we were living in Greenwood, full of purpose and certainty about what we were doing and where we were going--calling our friends and family to get excited with us. And now we are looking for work, to feed our family, to find a second car, a house, to perhaps even go back to school for something completely different.

At this point of my musings, I'd like to paste into this blog excerpts from a sewing poem. Yes, a Sewing Poem. First, a word about how I found it! Next week my mother and her sisters have their yearly sewing retreat, a week and a half long extravaganza of fabric and thread, scissors and Bernina sewing machines, mothers and daughters and granddaughters all gathered in bonds of industrious creativity. Well, I get to join them for three days! One drawback is that I have a strong dislike of sewing. So, I'm bringing my paints and sketchbook instead, and to prepare, I've been doing Google image searches relating to quilts and sewing. Tucked in a distant webpage I found this little poem that hit my heart. (Click here for the complete poem)

I Sit and Sew

By Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson

...

I sit and sew—my heart aches with desire—

That pageant terrible, that fiercely pouring fire

On wasted fields, and writhing grotesque things

Once men...

...

You need me, Christ! It is no roseate dream

That beckons me—this pretty futile seam,

It stifles me—God, must I sit and sew?

 
Its not that I don't enjoy Greenwood, in fact I'm thrilled to be in the ESL field, its a life-long dream. But as I read this poem, I see Alice, the poet, sitting in her home, frustrated that she isn't involved in more than just the quiet things in life. I see a temptation in myself to do the same--to chafe instead of bloom.
Dear Alice, you think Christ needs you, but he doesn't, and you don't know how he values humble service. I've determined to live as his expendable crewman, and if that means to sew at something small, I'll trust that in his hands it will become an everlasting quilt, a masterpiece to be unveiled in heaven's economy. Goodness knows I've wanted and tried to be on the front lines where "writhing grotesque things/once men" wished for rescuing. I believe though, that the greatest front line is the one in my heart, where I fight pride and selfishness, and that goes with me wherever my address.

  We shall see what sort of quilts and paintings and laughter will come from next week's sewing retreat. I believe strongly that creativity has an eternal quality, that in some way the beauty we start on here on earth will be taken up again in Heaven. I'm proud of the way my mother has given herself to her great quilting talent, and she always makes me wish I would paint more (For a glimpse of her work, visit her blog).

I found another little piece in my web-hunt, with quite a different attitude toward sewing than Alice Moore Dunbar-Nelson, and I'll close with this quote from the fictional 'Aunt Jane of Kentucky' by Eliza Calvert Hall (Here's her book):

"I've been a hard worker all my life, but 'most all my work has been the kind that 'perishes with the usin',' as the Bible says. That's the discouragin' thing about a woman's work. If a woman was to see all the dishes that she had to wash before she died piled up before her in one pile, she'd lie down and die right then and there. I've always had the name o' bein' a good housekeeper, but when I'm dead and gone there ain't anybody goin' to think o' the floors I've swept, and the tables I've scrubbed, and the old clothes I've patched, and the stockin's I've darned, but when one of my grandchildren or great-grandchildren sees one o' these quilts, they'll think about Aunt Jane, and, wherever I am then, I'll know I ain't forgotten."

Here's to the small things in life, to living in Delaware, to sewing a quiet seam.

Home -- E.

Where is home?

Our family moves around a lot, which makes the answer to this question tricky at times.  When we lived in North Carolina last year, and we made the occasional trip back to Delaware, I sometimes told the children we were going back "home" for a visit.  This confused James: "Isn't North Carolina our home now?"

One year ago, our home was in Malaysia.  But for a brief time, we were renting two different houses at the same time, which complicated things; and at any rate Queena and I still thought of the United States as home in a significant sense.

Some say children who grow up in an international setting develop a lifelong difficulty identifying a real home for themselves.

Some like to point out that "this world is not my home", and perhaps those who live without attachment to any particular earthly domicile have a head start on heaven.

But I'm getting deeper into all this than I meant to.  Because, do you know how my family knows where home is?  It's simply where the bedsheet is hanging up.  Take a look inside seven of the last thirteen houses where we have lived:

See the bedsheet?  It has hung in every house that we have called home since 2007.  It's how we know where home is.

For the past two months we have been living in other people's homes.  And I'm grateful, more than I can say, that we've had these places to stay over this time.  Our parents and siblings are wonderful people.  But on the other hand, we have not had the bedsheet up, not since early November.  And the four of us miss seeing it.  We miss the sense of being home.  Next week, we move back to Delaware, and the bedsheet is going on the wall again.

I am so ready.

Why Is English So Hard To Pronounce?

It takes many of us years to master these exotic sounds.

Heading Home

Last time we blogged, we were having a grand old time out in the village.

That lasted about a week.  Then we started having health problems that I won't describe in detail here, but which you probably already know about.  By the first week of 2014 it was clear that we needed to return to the United States to get better.  (For those who are wondering, health care in Kuching is actually pretty good.  For us, in this case, it's a matter of being closer to family and friends.)

In half an hour we'll be locking up our house and saying goodbye for now.

One last durian.

Sigh.  I've seen this before.

My baby durian tree.  It's sad to leave it so young...

Christmas in the Kampung --QM

We use this blue mat a lot here! A friend gave the children a rock painting kit for Christmas, and I'm reading a letter from Grandma Schults, a friend from the States. Two wonderful gifts!

Less than a week ago we moved to a village, Kampung Jangkar, for the month of December. We have little internet, little phone service, and no fridge or washing machine--but we are enjoying the many stars in the sky, the nearby stream and jungle, and the new friends that stop by with Durian and Rambutan and sit and chat. And its actually quite empowering to realize what we can do without, to learn how to wash by hand, and keep an icebox. Blessings in disguise...

We are renting this house for just 3 weeks, and love having a quilt from my Mom to make it feel like home.

Our  Christmas tree is hiding nest to the fan. We brought plenty of Christmas touches, including a New Christmas Tree wall-hanging my Mom posted to us! Also hiding from view, sorry...

The outside of our house, and Dorie's friend (Kakak, older sister) Grace. They spend so much time together, and Grace's parents have really shown us hospitality.

We are grateful for this time! James and Dorie enjoy playing with the other children, they are learning a lot of language during this time (a mix of Bahasa Salako and Bahasa Malayu!), and Ethan and I are also growing in our language skills. This is a far cry from Christmas in the States, or even Christmas in Kuching, but we are loving it :)!