Fresh Perspective

My phone rings.  It’s the midwife.  My heart always skips a beat when she calls, because GENERALLY speaking in Papua, we don’t call, we text.  She tells me that there has been an urgent case with an expatriate woman and O negative blood is needed.  Midwife and school nurse are rummaging through all the charts trying to figure out who in the mission community is O negative.   They discovered 7 of us.  I happen to be one of them.  Meaning we are universal blood donors and anyone can receive our blood.   The next morning, 3 of us meet Dr. Di at the hospital right behind our home.  The O negative Party was on!  There is strength in numbers and it really was comforting to do this “first” donation (for me in Papua), amongst friends.  Also a great way for me to learn the system.       Natalie had a donor card.  She had already donated here in Indonesia.  Dave and I were envious of her pink card status and...

Negative reaction first?  Or Positive?  AUGH!  I dislike being negative, so let’s just get it out of the way.  I HATE being away from family at Christmas.  This is our 5th Christmas overseas and “time ( IS NOT ) makes ( making ) it easier”.  Sorry.  Christmas in my mind equals being with extended family.  I also strongly dislike a Papuan tradition, and that is many places throughout towns and villages build little decorative bamboo huts.  From them comes BLARING Christmas music.  Usually starting around 4:30 ish a.m. somewhere in the bustle of the morning it usually fades off, maybe 6:30ish……this can vary greatly.  Often the music can restart at random times throughout the day and often in the evenings again.  The music can be as random as Ava Maria to I want to Wish you a Merry Christmas . Despising the rude loud music one morning, Darron went off running to see where it was coming from.  ONE MILE from our house was the...

Hair.  That’s the topic.  Thick. Thin. Short. Medium. Long. Curly. Straight.  Everything in between.  Most of us disillusioned with our own.  Longing for someone else’s hair.  Yet, let’s be honest.  If you have a “good” hairstylist it really doesn’t matter what kind of hair you have.  They will make you look and feel great.  I have been privy to sit under the talent of “good” hands with scissors (thanks Mom and Lea and Laurie).  Since moving to Asia I have also fallen victim to sit under the hands of many “not so good” with scissors.  Fortunately “hair grows”.  HA!  Grow it does and where does the missionary woman “go” with growing hair and the desire to feel pampered and cared for?  Possible solution #1: HOME, to her passport country!  That is the simplest solution.  Not very practical for the hair budget and time constraints.  So throw that option out the window, except for furlough time.  Which ...