The Earth is Round and Therefore Has no "Ends" or "Corners"

I beg to differ.
The earth totally has ends and corners, no matter how "round" it supposedly is.

No, I am not a member of the Flat Earth Society, nor do I believe in the physical flatness of the planet Earth.

However,

I'd like to introduce you to Kudjip Nazarene Mission Station. This little plot of land up in the highlands of Papua New Guinea is pretty much sitting out here on a spit of land at the end of the earth.

Papua New Guinea is one of the most culturally diverse nations on earth, with over 800 languages and about as many "traditional societies" or tribes. (Ethnologue)

Only about 18% of these people live in urban areas, making for a vast island of rugged mountains and traditional villages. (Urbanization)

Papua New Guinea has only about 5 doctors per 100,000 people, compared to the world average of 139 per 100,000 (Statistics)

Here at Kudjip, quite a number of those few-and-far-between doctors make their home, serving at the ministry that is Kudjip Nazarene Hospital. 

Kudjip hospital in 2013:

-saw 52,541 outpatients

-admitted 5,542 patients 

-delivered 1,575 babies

-did 577 major surgeries

-did 839 minor surgeries (hospital website)

Kudjip Mission Station is also home to several other ministries, as well as being the headquarters for the Church of the Nazarene in the South Pacific and Melanesia (7 different countries).

Just like any ministry (or any organization, for that matter), Kudjip would not run without people in the less-obvious supporting roles.
 Doctors need electricity,
bathrooms,
cars that run,
schooling for their children,
and chocolate, just like anyone else.
You might think that chocolate is not as necessary as the other things listed, and you are entitled to hold that opinion, but you would of course be wrong.

My husband and I are here at Kudjip to play some of these supporting roles.
Morgan, working with Field Maintenance, makes sure that
the doctors' houses do not fall apart
their toilets flush into a sewer system rather than the yard or house
their cars get them where they need to go and not only halfway there.

I, as one of the two highschool teachers, make sure that
their children learn how to spell
and add
and diagram a sentence'
and write chemical equations
and calculate the derivation of the formula of a hyperbole.

Just kidding, the other highschool teacher does the last one.
She has a degree in math.
I take care of the English papers.
We have a good arrangement.

I'd like to, in the next few posts, introduce you to the students I teach and the families that are able to minister here because the highschool exists, and are able to drive to town in their cars to do grocery shopping because Morgan is here.
They are pretty cool people.
I think you'll agree.

*pictures taken by various missionaries here at Kudjip 

Through the Mud

Meet Eeyore.
He is Theron's favorite stuffed animal.
He gets carried/drug everywhere.

He gets sat on
hugged
snuggled with
chewed on
laid on.

He has water poured on him
mud smeared on him
rocks thrown at him
things piled on him.

He gets carried to the stroller to join in on the walk,
then dropped in the dirt
and rolled over
and picked back up
and handed back to outstretched toddler arms
to repeat the process again.

Because the love of a toddler is a little traumatic for the object of love.

Eeyore gets washed much less frequently than he should,
because there is no time to wash and dry him between naps
and heaven forbid a nap happen without Eeyore.

Eeyore gets thrown out of the crib in a fit of anti-nap fervor
and then post-Eeyore-throwing remorse immediately sets in
and we hear a mournful wail from the nursery
EEEEYYYYOOOOOORRRREEEEE!!!!
and we have to go and hand Eeyore back, if the nap is going to proceed.

Eeyore gets drug through the mud
and his bedraggled, muddy state,
like that of the Velveteen Rabbit,
bears witness to how much he is loved by a little boy.

The other day, I noted this to my husband, as Eeyore underwent yet another traumatic event in his stuffed life.
"I don't know whether to feel sorry for Eeyore that he is so mistreated, or be happy for him because he is so loved!"
And my wise husband responded,
"Just remember that thought when you feel like you have been drug through the mud -- it is because you are so loved!"

Because the love of a toddler is a little traumatic for the object of love.
But us who are loved by the toddler
wouldn't change it for the world.

Because Eeyores and Mommies are just a little different from regular humans.
Eeyores and Mommies try to see you,
not what you say when you are mad. 

Eeyores and Mommies will snuggle you
when you are covered with snot
and dirt
and who knows what other Toddler Cooties.

Eeyores and Mommies will love you
at your worst.

Even when you drag them through the mud.

I'm so glad that God
is a little bit like Eeyores and Mommies
when I act like a toddler
and my love is a little traumatic.

Life at Kudjip: Rhino the Toe Beetle

There are a lot of bugs here. I suppose there are probably a lot of bugs everywhere, bugs seeming to be a nearly universal phenomenon. Perhaps there are fewer bugs in, say, Siberia, but I think most places actually occupied by sane people have bugs. (No offense, Siberians)

However, here in the tropics, I feel that we have more than our fair share of bugs. And our bugs seem to have more than their fare share of… size. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in Jurassic Park with the size of our bugs, ferns, etc. Rather than cute little fireflies buzzing around our house, we have GARGANTUAN CICADAS OF DOOM. They are seriously the size of medium-range bats. Also, they buzz loudly enough to drown out most of my less important thought processes. And they have a particular fondness for banging repeatedly into the metal siding of our house while I'm trying to go to sleep.

Forget the geckos keeping our bug population under control -- our bugs seem to be doing a pretty good job of keeping the gecko population in check. Which is sad, because while not being a sissy girl who screams at bugs, I still vastly prefer geckos to cicadas. I really don't like cicadas. Or cockroaches. Or the much smaller, but infinitely more annoying mosquito. Praying mantises are pretty cool though. They always make me think of Kung Fu Panda. I now always imagine that they are preparing for some cool kung fu move, with their crafty little bug-eyes and folded kung-fu-ready legs.

Morgan walked in the door this morning and informed me that there was a bug on his toe. Given the average size of our Average Joe Bug here in Giant Bug Land, I don't know why I expected a petite little buglet to be perching on my husband's toe, but I was. I was wrong. Instead, meet Rhino Beetle the Toe Bug:

Not as large as some rhino bugs I have seen, true, but still not really the cuddly friend that I, personally, would want wrapped around my toe. My husband seemed quite content with his new pet, however, and since rhino beetles do not stink, sting, bite, or fly (my main quarrels with other bugs), I did not protest.

Come to find out, rhino beetles do have one neat trick that can be a little surprising if you aren't expecting it: they hiss. Like, scary, loud, angry-cat hissing. Interesting.

Theron, being a normal 1-year-old boy, has quite the fascination with all forms of creeping, crawling critters. Also, anything that can break or that Mommy doesn't want him to play with, but that's beside the point right now. More to the point, he LOVED Rhino the Toe Bug with his creepy hissing trick.

Theron wanted one of his very own, but I, sadly, had to decline on the grounds of not being particularly keen on the idea of my toddler eating large crunchy hissing spiny bugs. And, as we all know, anything that Theron has, Theron eventually eats. Dirt, rocks, toys, dust bunnies, Mommy's chocolate that he stole off the desk while she was occupied with the baby. All that to say, Theron had to content himself with playing with Daddy's Toe Bug.

Fortunately, the hissing toe bug eventually was deposited outside, a sadder, wiser bug for it's brush with Toddlerdom. I don't think it will be latching on to any roaming toes in the near future, I think it has learned its lesson. We can hope.

Theron still wants a toe bug of his own. But we don't always get what we want, do we. For example, I want geckos who can conquer cicadas and rhino bugs and the world to be free of cockroaches and mosquitos forever. Oh well.

 

Snapshots of Kudjip: Flowers and Fruit

Snapshots of Kudjip: The Dawn

Have you ever commanded the morning to appear

and caused the dawn to rise in the east?

Have you made daylight spread to the ends of the earth, 

to bring an end to the night's wickedness?

As the light approaches,

the earth takes shape like clay 

pressed beneath a seal;

it is robed in brilliant colors. 

The light disturbs the wicked

and stops the arm that is raised in violence. 

(Job 38:12-15)

Maintenance at Kudjip: A Big Hole

Sometimes as a maintenance guy on a mission station, Morgan doesn't feel so very important. Like when he's trying to figure out which jobs he can do with four guys when it is pouring rain and the power is off. Hint: there aren't a lot of jobs that you can do in the pouring rain with no power.

And then, sometimes, he knows that the job he is doing is actually, despite appearances perhaps, quite essential. Such as fixing the sewage system for one of the doctor houses so that it doesn't back up into the house. Because even the best doctors find their style a little cramped when their sewage system doesn't work. It's the little things in life, you know?

And THEN, sometimes, he feels a little bit like he is doing the same thing over and over again, day after day. Like, when the measurements aren't done QUITE right and he has to do the same job over again. That feels a little redundant. It can get old. Just a little.

Morgan rejoined the maintenance team after a week of paternity leave as they were finishing up the "fixing the sewage system" job. A large ditch had been dug as a "dry well" (evidently this is where excess "gray" water from the septic tank goes) and filled with stones (because that is what you do, I guess. I don't understand it completely). A pipe is then laid from the septic tank to the end of the giant ditch, with holes in it, to drain off the water, and it is then covered up. I guess.

Anyway, with the combination of several genius minds on the project, the simple matter of measuring the heights of "in" end of the pipe and the "out" end of the pipe was neglected until the ditch was dug, the rocks were in, and the pipe was being laid. At that point, one of the guys on the crew casually mentioned to Morgan that "the pipe is too high on this end."

Morgan frowned at the guy, thinking, of course it's not too high. There are several of us on this project. Surely somebody measured it.
"Really?" He said kindly, attempting to be a good listener like we are told to be.
"Yes." replied the guy, who obviously had faulty 3-D perception.
"Ok," Morgan decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least in theory.
"Let's measure it and see."

A couple of measurements later, Morgan stood looking at pipe that entered the septic tank 500mm from the top and exited the tank 300mm from the top. This meant that, for the sewage system to work correctly, the gray water would need to be really cooperative and agree to flow uphill. Just a little. Not much.

Since Morgan was guessing that the water would not be so agreeable, the crew began to move forward on moving backwards on the job to a point where they could fix the outgoing height of the pipe. This meant removing the pipe. Then removing the rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. Then digging the ditch deeper. (it was already very deep. and big) Also, the second time around of digging had to be done around a couple inches of gray water than was now running into the ditch from the old (not working) leech field. Then replacing the rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. And going and getting even more rocks because now the hole is bigger and needs more rock to be filled. Then replacing the pipe, so as to get back to the same point in the project that they were already at, only with everything in positions that worked with, rather than against, the various natural laws of the universe, such as gravity.

While I do feel very sorry for Morgan, I really couldn't restrain myself from a couple of small snorts of laughter. Respectful laughter, of course.

And, you know, the obligatory "measure twice, cut once" remark.
This from the Queen of Impulsive.
Pretty much all of my projects are done two or three times before they work.
Or don't work, as the case may be.
Like the last batch of sweet bread dough I made… without sugar.
Never fear, I realized it at the end and tried to knead in 1/2 c of sugar to the dough.
It really doesn't work that well.
Don't try it.

Or the entire load of laundry that I inadvertently tie-dyed purple from a new skirt because I'm too lazy to sort my laundry.
But we have pretty purple towels now.
And NOW I wash that skirt by hand.

You know, if we were all perfect I could of course give some great moral about how we should always think through our actions before we do them so that we would not make mistakes such as these and we would only ever have to do things once, beautifully, because we are all so wise now and have learned our lesson.
But we aren't.
I, for one, am quite unintelligent on a regular basis.
Clear thought did not come easy to me before two pregnancies and children, never mind now that I have a toddler and a newborn to juggle with my hormone-addled brain.
I don't know about you.
And I really don't have time to think through all of my actions.
And sometimes, even with all the thinking through, I just miss things.
Or things go wrong.
And I feel so stupid.
Or it's completely out of my control and I feel angry that I now have to clean up a mess someone else or something else made.
Because, isn't my time worth more than this???
And surely if we were all thinking clearly none of this would happen.

But I watched my husband this last week graciously accept a mistake that happened, and not look around for someone to blame, or kick himself for being stupid, or get angry at the amount of "unnecessary" work that now needed to happen. Instead, he laughed. And started fixing the problem.

I noticed this tendency while we were dating when our spare tire blew out halfway between Southern New Mexico and Oklahoma and we had to wait several hours for Morgan's dad to come tow us home. Morgan laughed. And called his dad to come get us.

Or when our toddler threw up all over him a couple weeks ago. Twice. Morgan laughed. And went and took a shower.

Sometimes, the answer is not to "do better" or "think clearer" or "be smarter."
Because we are still human, and sometimes we just screw up.
Or someone else does.
And then we have a choice to make: to deal with it graciously, or ungraciously.
To get angry.
Or to laugh and move forward.

And life on the mission field, or anywhere, for that matter, is very often not about doing things perfectly, but about learning to laugh and move on.
Even if that means moving "backwards" for a little while.

Lula Anne.

Things I am thankful for:
-Lula's labor went a bit faster than Theron's. 1/10th the time, actually.
-Lula was not actually born in the car. We made it all the way to the delivery room.
-We are back home within 12 hours of labor starting.
-Good doctor with good hearing who lives across the road and can hear my husband yelling ERIN!!!! from our house. 

Things I have learned:
-3 hours is a REALLY FAST labor.
-Sometimes the absolute last words in the whole wide world that you want to hear are "DON'T PUSH YET!!!!"
-Sometimes you just don't notice all the potholes on the road between your house and the hospital. They just don't seem to matter.

Other observations:
Sometimes you find yourself not being quite as nice as you want to be being.
You think, in your head,
"The doctor and the nurse are nice people.
I like them.
They are doing the best things for me.
They know how this is supposed to work."
But then you watch and your hands just won't seem to stop pushing them away when they insist on stretching/pushing on/ "helping" things that you just feel in that moment very strongly would be better left quite alone.
You also for some reason feel like a good thing to inform them of would be the fact that "it hurts."
As if they don't know.
Sorry guys. You really are the best. =]

We are very thankful to be home and feeling good with a healthy baby and a very confused toddler.