Showing posts from February, 2016

Good Old/Young Boyd Summer Fun

It has been simmering in my mind since this past summer to at least capture a few of the Boyd highlights from our time together.  A healing time was helping Mom get Dad’s memorial garden finished.  With rock edging and flowing bushes, completed with a fire pit and some comfortable outdoor chairs and simple benches.  A place for reflection and remembrance.  Of beauty and peace.  A very fitting tribute to Aubrey Boyd.    We thought MAYBE it would be a good idea to try and vacation away from the farm.  While it was fun and definitely a change of scenery…..I’m not sure that 2 cases of pneumonia were worth the effort. ; )  However nothing beats some campfire time, creek time and feeding the bird time (shhhhh!).  Also riding, running, walking or pushing the Cades Cove Loop was challenging and fun for most!       Probably the funniest memory from our summer together with the Boyd side was the MUSIC.  Darla’s (Darrons’ sisters) children are quite musical.  After listening to them sin

Does God Care about Tea Time?

Having grown up in a British family and being the only “girl” in this family of 5 “boys”, I am quite partial to the thought of “TEA”.  Rarely do i drink it.  Yet pretty tables and tea sets and scones and cuppa’s with friends all settle well with my soul, even if I rarely slow down to partake in such finery. This last furlough, on my long list of needs, was an unwritten list of heart desires.  I spotted the elegant tea cake stand the week before we were due to return to Indonesia.  The simple white sculpted edges were perfectly elegant.  I lifted it off the shelf to glance at the price tag on the bottom of the last tier.  Twenty dollars.  Not bad.  Certainly doable.  Yet, I felt that I could not splurge on such a luxury.  Already the budget had been stretched with many needed items.  This was just going to far.  What does a missionary girl need with a tea cake stand?  But I really wanted it. I decided to have a little chat with God about the stand.  I told Him that I would just leave

3rd World Problems SOLVED in 3rd World Ways

If our gas tanks are running low then we need to drive 20 minutes to the other side of town to get gas.  If for some reason the gas station is out of gas (it happens) then we must drive another 5+ minutes to the next gas station.  For many people, using only motorbikes, this is not practical at all.  It’s not practical in my Western mind either!  The 3rd world people have come up with a simple solution (at least for the motorbikes).  Mini gas stands.  They are all over town, down any given street, in the country, in the city.  5 feet apart from each other.  5 Miles apart.  As random and sporadic as only the 3rd World can be.    Sometimes they have an abundance.  Sometimes they are out.  Sometimes they are closed.  Sometimes they are almost sold out.    Usually 1 Liter at a time is sold in a glass bottle.  Full service, of course.  It costs, approximately 5 t[o 10 cents more a Liter verses driving all the way to the gas station where you will sit in a long line (as a motorbike). 

Who Won? The Drunk?

It was not state of the art.  It was not immaculate or without many faults, but many of us did enjoy it.  Especially on a hot steamy, 70%+ humidity, tropical day.  Families would gather.  Picnics were eaten.  Missionary wife tales were swapped while the children refreshed themselves.   Dads would throw the children high into the air.  Boys would totter on each other’s shoulders and play, “Chicken”.  “Marco”, “Polo” was often heard.  Along with the little elderly Papuan man, grinding his teeth, as he weeded all the flower beds.  Often there was no shock factor at getting in.  Sometimes the chemicals would be so out of balance it was green.  Sometimes we would all stay in during a tropical rain downfall and just enjoy the uniqueness of the moment.   The pool.   Over several months “the former owner” began to cause more and more problems at the pool.  Demanding that it was his, despite having already been paid several times.  Showing up drunk, he would have parties and be a nuisance. 

Faster, Faster, Faster, MOM!

Comfort zones.  Is it really time to be pushed out of one more???!  Isn’t driving  a car in Indonesia, enough??!  Apparently not.  The time has arrived.  Sigh.  Fear.  Anxiety.  Wanting to crawl into fetal position and NOT DO THIS.  However, my kids saw the need.  Made me face the task.  Especially my oldest Man Child.  He took it as his duty.  His job.    TO TEACH MOM HOW TO DRIVE THE MOTORBIKE!!!     Yes, the motorbike.  Over Christmas break, Aubrey became my teacher.  Several days he would grab the keys, helmets and bug me, pursue me, until I climbed on the bike and faced my fears.  He would sit behind me and give instructions into my ears.  So patient. So calming.  Matter of fact.  Practical.   “Indicate, lean on the curves, honk your horn, let off when you change gears.”  As we practiced hill runs he would shout over the wind, “GO, GO, GO, FASTER, FASTER, FASTER……”  And when my heart would calm down into the rhythm of the machine I would smile at the irony of it all.  Son te

Trust Camp

  In a world where there is MUCH confusion about Muslims, it was refreshing to participate in a Trust Camp with young adult Muslims and Adventist this last weekend.  The goal was to break down walls of mistrust.  So Adventist and Muslim leaders, along with young adults, camped together and built friendships and CHOSE to UNDERSTAND one another.          Darron was the key leader.  He brought in a team from Bandung and Jakarta who were in our midst for 10 days.  It was no small list of logistics on his part from food to guest housing to countless meetings and finding camping gear for over 70 participants, to having a bathroom built at the camping spot, to hundreds of more details that he did not share with me.   As the school days bumbled along, I hid behind the veil of “having to keep the family going” and helped with random meals here and there.  Also on the Saturday of the Trust Camp weekend, the family went to join, for the day.  After sliding through mud from the night dow