Goodbye

It’s often said that you don’t fully appreciate something or someone until they’re gone. With the sudden loss of my younger brother Tim in a senseless shooting, I can attest to that statement. He has always been my best friend. I have occasional pangs of regret that I didn’t talk to him more these past few years, that I didn’t take full advantage of his company, but mostly I just watch bittersweet memories of him run across my line of sight, one after the other. Even if I had known what was coming, I don’t think I could have ever fully appreciated Tim. And I like it that way. In the weeks after Tim’s passing, I have heard new stories of his generosity and his love for people that deepen my knowledge of him and give me joy amidst the pain of his loss. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I like being able to appreciate Tim the more I learn about him, with each story shared. I want to hear more about Tim, I want to know my brother more. I am so thankful for those people who have taken the time to share with me and the rest of the family how Tim impacted their lives.  

Tim wasn’t perfect. He had his share of faults like everyone else, but he did take more time than me to smell the proverbial roses. His unexpected death has caused me to step back and reassess my approach to life, my gratitude for life. I would give almost anything to have my brother back, but I am thankful in a way that this wake-up call occurred now, and not in my golden years. Suddenly, the threat of HOA hate mail because of my overgrown lawn loses some of its significance. I am less concerned that a patient’s ramblings will force me to hit rush hour traffic. Forgetting to haul the garbage can to the street for the weekly pick-up doesn’t elicit the same level of self-reproach. I have talked to my parents and siblings more in the last 3 weeks than I would have otherwise in 3 months.  Life seems more precious now, and Tim would want it to be that way for us. He would want his death to have that effect on our lives because that was how he liked to live.

I still find myself wading back into the fast-paced normalcy of life, and an hour or a day or a week later, coming to, and remembering what I had so quickly forgotten about life’s preciousness.

-Ben

Timothy Peter

 January 19, 1983 - July 28, 2015

   

Daddy on Duty

I dedicate this post to my lovely wife Lisa, who allowed me to step into her shoes this weekend. (And what big shoes for such dainty feet.)


My last four months of rotations often made for long workdays with little time spent at home. That coupled with constant studying when I was home resulted in Lisa shouldering much of the parental responsibility. When the semester came to an end, I was gifted a long Christmas break, but Lisa's duties didn't change too much except that she was able to share some responsibilities with me. Finally it hit me, "Why not give Lisa the chance to get away for a couple of days and breath some fresh air (ie. air not tainted by dirty diapers and the distinctive smell of formula)?" I didn't really think she'd take me up on it but she did and here I am alone with Anna. And boy did we pick a great time for her to go.

Anna woke up with a runny nose this morning. Anna NEVER has a runny nose. And Alice, she wouldn't wake up yesterday morning and after trying to resuscitate her for awhile, I ended up getting her towed. The car docs have already diagnosed and treated her, but not before charging us an arm and a leg and not soon enough for me to bring her back home before Monday. So I'm without wheels this weekend, stuck at home with a sniffling baby who also happens to be teething again today after taking a week off.

Normally, when Anna teeths, she sucks on her fingers like a vacuum cleaner trying to swallow a sock. But today I caught her chewing on the corner of the kitchen rug. And during a brief phone conversation with a friend, I was startled to find Anna gnawing on my arm as if she had found a drumstick on a deserted island. Then she snuggled up to my chest, and that feel-good moment ended real quick when I felt her teeth penetrating the fabric of my t-shirt. I yelped and instinctively covered a nipple in case she drifted while grazing. Fortunately, she didn't draw blood and she didn't have fangs when I checked her canines. So at least she didn't appear to be morphing into Vampire Baby although when I looked out the window, I did shudder to note that daylight was fading fast. And her bedtime was still a couple of hours away. Oh dear.


But by day's end, I had survived. Barely. Somehow I managed to find food for Anna to eat, clothes for her to wear, diapers to change her into, and adequate entertainment, all in a fairly timely fashion. Still, I ate lunch 3 hours late, found myself constantly without a rag or Kleenex to wipe Anna's Niagara Falls nose, and didn't even have to cook a meal [ate leftovers-thank you Lisa:)] or run a load of laundry. Or do any of the other million things that Lisa finds time to do. How in the world does she do this every day?

Then I think about the times (every other day) I chide Lisa for allowing the dirty baby bottles to stack up next to the sink. Or about the times I think I'm doing Lisa a favor by telling her that she shouldn't skip meals or ever forget to drink fluids. Or when I discover food on Anna's clothes and wonder why her mommy didn't notice it. I could go on and on.

I'm glad Lisa took a break, but I wish I had offered this, say, back in August. Before Lisa left today (was it today or was it eons ago?), I knew being a homemaker wasn't a walk in the park. I could sense the exhaustion emanating from her face and body after a long day, but I couldn't relate until now. Now I understand why Lisa sometimes was eager for me to clock in as soon as I walked in the front door after a day's work. Oh yes, if I looked in the mirror today at, say, 6 o'clock, I would have seen a desperate man wondering where the heck his mate was.

Today has been an adventure and my wife hasn't even been gone 12 hours yet. Thank you Lisa for all that you do. And I truly say that from the bottom of my heart. I can't promise you I won't ever chide, scold, or complain again about some menial task not performed to perfection, but I do give you permission to slap me back to the reality of today if I do. That said, you better be back here by Sunday night!

Love you babe, Ben

Anna Noelle

Well, since it's past midnight and Anna is still going strong and it's about time for my once-every-6 months entry, I'll regale you with a short bio on Anna, my one and only. By the pound (only 4 lbs, 14 oz or so thus far), she's the most inquisitive creature outside of the feline family that I know. Her midnight blue eyes roam the room as she tries to take in absolutely everything. Even when she's sleeping, I sometimes catch her eyeballs hard at work, bouncing up and down and side to side. Tonight, she's my little lip-smacking inchworm as she tries to wiggle herself into a better vantage point of the room. Annababe, why are your dark eyes so wide? Aren't newborns supposed to spend most of their time sleeping? You know, like you did in the hospital a short time ago? Anna is so inquisitive. It appears she is not going to fall asleep until she has her new digs (home) figured out. I guess I can't blame her.

Let's see...what else about Anna? She's a voracious eater. Instead of the "suck, suck, suck, swallow" pattern of normal breastfeeding, Anna is swallow, swallow, swallow, suck, swallow; when she feels like it, she's all business. She put the other L & D babies to shame. I tried to set up a breastfeeding tournament and get some bets going, but word got around quick about Anna and her supersucking skills. So I had to settle for a blue ribbon (w/ pink trim) Champion Breastfeeder award stuck to our hospital room door, which she won by default. (The other babies declined to enter the competition and all had the same excuse - poopy diaper.) Oh well, I'm sure there will be other opportunities to profit from my darling daughter;) Back to her habits, other times she cries wolf or plays hard to get, acting like she is dying of thirst and then sticking her nose up at the proffered meal. Sorry honey, you can have mama's milk or you can have mama's milk. This menu is smaller than you, Pintsize. Or, she sleeps on the job. Anna, I didn't teach you that. Must be my better half.

Anna's also pretty photogenic for her age (2 1/2 days old). We've already captured a smile or two on camera, as well as her pursing her miniscule yet luscious ruby-red lips. One time I caught her in the act and couldn't resist. I gave her a quick peck on the lips and she threw her arms up in surprise (the startling reflex common in newborns).

Believe it or not, Anna cashed in for the moment, so her proud daddy might as well follow suit.

At the End of My Rope

It's been awhile since I've written; Lisa could probably tell you how many months and how many days. She likes to count down (baby) and up (marriage).

For those who don't know, I'm 5 months into a 27-month Physician Assistant program. My life and therefore, often Lisa's, is centered around my studies, because the program is so intense. For example, "Oh, you want to hang out on Saturday? I’m sorry babe but it'll have to be next weekend, because I have a huge Pharmacology test on Monday"...."Hey, want to watch a movie? I can take an hour and a half break." You get the idea.

The upside of studying non-stop and rarely getting a breather is that it drives me straight to the real center of my life. He never fails to love, encourage, supply what I'm lacking, etc. I’m always so blown away that he cares about a measly test of mine. Here’s the latest example:

Last week was brutal. I had 4 tests Tuesday through Friday, a project due on Saturday, and then the mother of them two days later (this past Monday): Pharmacology. Whenever anyone in my class mentions the words “Pharm” and “test” together in the same sentence, half the class impulsively shivers. So Sunday evening, I’m spent. None of the material has really sunk in, and I know I’m in trouble. I remember thinking, “Wow, I really am at the end of the proverbial rope!” So I cry out to God and remarkably he never gets tired of bleating lambs crying out in fear. For a split-second, I have this image in my mind of a rope dangling above me. I felt God was saying, “Oh, you’re at the end of your rope? Grab mine.” Then of course instead of saying “OK,” my mind rushes to the “how.” How is he going to do it? Will the test be postponed, will he magically give me the answers I so desperately need during the test, or will I fail a test for the first time since my very first undergraduate test many years ago (an 8/100 in biology)? What drives me crazy even though it’s great for faith-building, is that he never tells me how beforehand. He just says he will do something and implicitly or explicitly asks me to simply trust him.

The next day I take the test, turn in the Scantron, and self-grade using the key provided. I score a 72.5. Only 2.5 points from passing. I am told several answers are miskeyed, but with my lack of knowledge going into the test, that could easily hurt me more than help. And then there’s the possibility of the curve, but who knows what that will be. I’m pretty upset for a few hours. Over the course of the week, I go through the 5 stages of grief, all the while waiting like the rest of the class with anticipation for our grades to be posted. At first I think, “What about that rope, God?” Then, I think, well, I shouldn’t have passed, so if I did, then there’s the rope I guess. Then I remembered the morning of the test, I did happen to find out that a certain review sheet was the skeleton to the test and was invited to study last-minute with a couple of classmates who were able to explain to me 90% of the questions on the review. I guess that was a miracle of sorts.

Yesterday, Friday, at the end of the day, I receive an email that we will be re-taking the Pharm test on Monday, as only 25% of the class passed the test. We will have the opportunity to review the old test together and then re-take the SAME test an hour later. What??!! I have never heard of that happening in our program, not in this class nor any other. This probably is an unprecedented act of mercy by a professor who previously refused to push back this test two days, considering the preceding string of tests and project. No, there’s the rope. As if a Pharmacology test was too big for him! And as I write this, I am reminded of another thought I had on Sunday, “God, if you can move this mountain, I’ll believe you for anything.” Gulp.

“Was my arm too short to ransom you? Do I lack the strength to rescue you?” Isaiah 50: 2b

Shortly After Midnight

Shortly after midnight, I realized what was the highlight of yesterday. Fridays are our day off, and I convinced Lisa to visit the city center by bus rather than taxi for reasons of economy, observation, and cultural identification. The sexes seem to be kept separate whenever possible in India, and buses are no exception. Ladies in the front, men to the rear. I sacrificed my male dignity in order to be Lisa's closest travel companion near the front, only to be given the boot midway through the ride by an elderly woman who simply stated "Lady's seat" and motioned for my removal.

Kindly people notified us of our proper point of disembarkation: "Indian Express." We quickly traversed three lanes of standstill traffic and followed the masses toward the nearest intersection. Along the way, Lisa noticed a beggar with an abnormally large leg and tried in vain to bring him to my attention. My eyes and mind were elsewhere - on the traffic, Lisa, Lisa's purse, and a bus stop somewhere in hiding. After reaching the intersection, I reconsidered Lisa's suggestion of taking an auto (taxi) instead of another bus and doubled back.

Again Lisa spotted the beggar and asked me, the treasurer of the day, for some change to give him. She handed him 10 rupees, the equivalent of 25 US cents, which is considered a healthy gift. I am ashamed to say, except for Lisa, I would have given half that amount, if anything. Even worse, I barely glanced at the man out of suspicion he would ask me as well for a donation. I looked long enough, not to see him as a human being, but to make a medical diagnosis of his physical ailment, what looked to be elephantitis of the leg. His bloated right leg, like a well-fed python, gruesomely snaked back and forth along the ground before burying itself in his shoe.

In my search of an auto that would offer me an escape from my own guilt, I tried to block out the beggar’s pleadings. Then Lisa mentioned that the beggar was trying to tell us something, not asking for more money as I had expected. When I moved closer and gave the man my attention, I realized he was telling us how to catch our next bus.

I thanked him and, clothed in shame, quickly guided Lisa in the direction the man had pointed. Oh, how I wish I had spared at least a few minutes to converse with the man and offer to pray with him. He had been so eager to help us and had been so happy, when we expressed our gratitude to him. This man, I am sure, sits on a dirty sidewalk every day and at knee-level begs people for the scraps from the wallets. Every day he asks for help, and he obviously wants to reciprocate in some way. We blessed him simply by receiving his help and following his instructions. That one interaction was the highlight of my day, and possibly his too. God is so intentional, so relationally complex, so loving, so good. I look forward to more God-ordained appointments and the opportunity to share His love. I long to encounter that man again, to give him a hug and get to know him. I may have missed my opportunity with that man, but God is the gracious God of second chances. There are so many others waiting to be noticed and loved.

Good Morning India

Outside our room in the play area

Imagine being woken up at 5 in the morning by the singing of 20 children. 30 minutes later, Indian sunlight begins filtering through the window. The children of Mother India are early risers, and this home is no exception. When I step outside our small apartment, the first thing I see is the resident pets, two beautiful boxers, Dora and Rocky, tear across the backyard in hot pursuit of one another. Then I look past the back wall to gaze at another beautiful blue sky decorated with a few wispy clouds, before I notice music drifting in from a local mosque or Hindu temple.

Our very first morning in India was quite different. We stepped off the plane before dawn and after waiting for our bags for at least an hour and a half, plenty of time for any baggage handler to pilfer through our belongings, walked outside to find nobody waiting for us. Fortunately, Lisa had a contact number, so I walked up to this man who sat by a landline phone and asked to make a phone call. He bobbled his head; I was immediately confused. Was that a no, because I was in line behind the other man next writing in a logbook, or a yes? I looked at Lisa, and she reminded me that was the "okay" head bobble we had read about. People hear communicate with a movement with their head - a "yes" nod, a "no" shake, or a "sure/okay/I guess so" bobble - more than they do facial expressions, and the "bobble" seems to be most commonly used. It is hard to hold back a smile when encountering this answer to a question.

We were soon picked up and driven to our new home, a concrete complex composed of three homes linked by a covered veranda, a garage, a playground, a prayer garden, and our guest house in the backyard. One of the homes houses upstairs boys and downstairs boys, the other, upstairs and downstairs girls, and the third, living quarters upstairs and a kitchen and office below. Above our apartment live the three most mature boys.

The children greeted their latest additions to the family, BenUncle and Lisa Auntie with the instant respect reserved for all elders. Before we knew it, we had unpacked a few things in our sparse apartment and were sitting down cross-legged on the hard concrete veranda with the children for dinner, Lisa with the girls and I with the boys. People instructed us how to shovel food in our mouths with our hands, without the help of utensil or napkin, and showed me where to find water to put out the fire in my mouth.

How different this culture is from my own - in some ways so much better, more difficult, and simply different than how we live in America. Half the female staff share the responsibility of caring for the baby of the bunch, Arumai, one year of age. Tots receive so much affection they often confuse aunties with their own mothers. Children are extremely respectful. Men may link hands or ride together on motorcycles, but men and women show zero affection for one another in public. Clothing must loosely drape over the body and cover shoulders, legs, and ankles, but most women leave a section of their torso uncovered. Showing the bottom of your feet is a sign of disrespect. Most food has the same soggy consistency and is almost always 90 percent rice. Stray cows share the road with "cars" ( moto-rickshaws), motorcycles, and various breeds of buses, vans, and trucks. I could go on and on.

Here at Grace Home, its English name, Lisa and I gradually are stepping into our new roles, still not fully defined. In the morning we fill the children's metal lunchtins with food or supervise computer learning games for three small girls. We may wash up the youngest kids, Peter and Menekah, after lunch and put them down for their three hour nap. The remaining children return from school between 3 and 4, so at this time, Lisa and I head off to our respective houses and join up again at bedtime. I alternate weeks between the upstairs and downstairs boys, and Lisa does the same with the girls. Each of the 4 homes has a houseparent, all aunties and uncles, for the title "mom" is reserved for Tammy, the director and founder.

Here's our schedule right now at a glance:

7:15 Serve the kids their lunches and help see them off to school.

8-9 Little girls play on the computer and then get ready for school at 9:30

9:00 Staff meeting and prayer

Our free time

12:30 Lunch. The two littlest ones are home and get ready for their nap.

3:30 Kids come home from school, have their snack, and take their bath.

4:00 Little kids play, older kids can have free time or some have to study

5-7 Tuition homework/study groups. I will have sixth standard kids, Lisa will be with the little ones doing work stations.

7:15-7:45 Devotions and prayer in the home, which we will be leading regularly.

7:45-8:30 Dinner

8:30-9 Clean up and chores, bedtime for little ones

9-10 Older kids study and then bed.

The prayer garden

Lima

My first day in Lima is ending - what a beautiful day. Lima is a typical heavily polluted Latin American city - home to 9-11 million residents - but today the sky was pretty clear and just before dusk it was blue! Most of the time I´m in Lima is wintertime here, so summer weather is a welcome change.

This morning we visited Wilma´s orphange. She has been ministering to children and women with children - many of these mothers being young and single (ie. alone, depressed, and anxious) - and is currently heading up construction of an orphanage that will house about 30-50 kids from one of the poorest areas in Lima. It´s a desert wasteland; people don´t even have running water or wells. They have to pay a sizeable portion of their income to purchase water from trucks. Wilma has given her heart and body to these people, which means doing things like joining her construction workers by grabbing a pickaxe and breaking up rock in order to lay the foundation. I would hesitate before taking a pickaxe to this ground, because I´ve never seen ground so hard. It never rains here. The only vegetation is cacti.

Wilma showed us around, making the empty, dusty, still-under-construction rooms come alive with her dreams. One room near completion housed 4 looms just purchased last week. She is teaching the single women how to weave bags, that can be sold in Lima or the States. The women learn a trade, earn an income, receive the love and teaching of Christ in the process, and receive care for their children.

Before leaving, we prayed for all the women there. I don´t know everything that happened, but one woman was healed of her headache and nightmares and another of kidney stones. I say healed because all pain disappeared in both cases and someone was given an accurate word of knowledge about the nightmares and acted on it. The lady with the headache was crying literal tears of joy. These people have such faith! We prayed short prayers and asked them how they felt. Both said they were healed and that was that.

Next we visited a family that Wilma knows who allowed us to enter their home and take pictures. We wanted to share with people what a typical home is like there. They lived in cramped squalor. One girl cried while recounting how her aunt had tried to sell her. The aunt, without her mom´s permission, had already sold her brother. The mother visited all the orphanages around there, looking for her son, with no success. These people really, really need to experience the love of Jesus, so we are really excited about what Wilma is doing.

Tomorrow morning we fly to Iquitos and will travel down an Amazon tributary into the high jungle for a few days. I will be interpreting for David, whose church purchased the 265 acres, and Clay, who´s company will be creating audioBibles in the local languages with the help of Wycliffe Bible translators. They are laying the foundation, so that by this summer, tribes can start coming in and help with the translations and learn better ways to live. Well, my bed beckons.

I leave tomorrow.

(READ LISA'S POST FIRST! IT'S THE ONE BELOW THIS ONE.)

I (Ben) leave tomorrow morning and will be gone for 8 days. This morning (Tuesday) I was pretty tired. I had woken up at 4am (not planned) and decided to look at airline ticket prices again. The night before I had found a decently priced ticket, but did not have peace about it. I felt God had something better in store for me. This morning, the same flight was available but for an even better price. Rather than try to figure out if I had peace, I decided to go ahead and get it. Twice, I filled out all the information only to find out and pressing the "Purchase" button, that the seats had already been sold.

So lying on the floor 30 minutes before leaving for work, I told God, "Well, I guess I'll be fasting and praying again." I felt God say, "It's not necessary for you to fast." I thought, "Alright. Great, then I won't be tempted for taking the credit for what you're going to do." Then I felt He said, "Ben, do you trust me?" I said with a sigh, "Yes, I trust you." I stood up and honestly felt like I did trust Him. That afternoon, God provided a $1,000 donation. So within a 24-hour period, God financed this trip.

And not only that, but He even answered a "luxury" prayer. I told God this morning, "God, you are wealthy beyond imagination. I don't want to fly Spirit Air! (All the cheap flights I had found were with Spirit.) I don't want to brag about how awesome You are and then tell people I got a bottom of the barrel flight with Spirit. Please, please give me something better." I'm flying Air Canada:)

Flying

I learned how to fly late last night - without wings, fuel, propeller, jetpack, or any other devices or gadgetry normally used for such a mode of travel. By simply moving my arms, as if I were treading water, my body began defying gravity. While seeking to impress all my immediate family with my newfound talent, I woke up mid-dream, lying next to Lisa. Fortunately, she seemed to have suffered no slap to the head or wayward kick to the body. Or if she did, my favorite deep sleeper was not conscious of it. Normally, I would have groaned and complained about waking up before my alarm clock sounded, but I was excited to welcome the day after enjoying such a glorious nocturnal experience.

Upon further ruminations of the dream, I find it somewhat symbolic of my recent union with Lisa. Becoming one with someone is rather like learning to fly. The act alone can be intimidating and fear-inducing. One finally gets the nerve to go for it and experiences an adrenaline rush like no other. The high can be sustained as long as one remains in the air or even after, meaning possibly to infinity. The intensity, enjoyment, and duration is a personal choice you and your partner both determine.

Each flight, just like each union, is wholly unique. Some people crash and burn, others move lazily in circles, still others strain to reach the heavenly bodies. All touch down again, at least once. I picture Lisa and I following the model of those who land, only to jump off the cliff again in absolute abandonment, over and over again, regardless of age or circumstances. Those couples are true frequent flyers.

Simply getting off the ground has been such an adventure, I smile wondering where the flight will take us and how we will get there, in what ways the myriad experiences will shape Lisa and me, and how much fun we will have.