The Tune of My Heart

As my fiddle playing has slowly improved and I'm actually playing a few tunes now, I've come to understand that I can't really play a tune unless I first develop a clear idea of what it's supposed to sound like. The only other instrument I've really played previously (apart from recorder in fourth grade music class) is the piano. With the piano, what you press is what you get. I could read the music, and as long I pressed the appropriate key for the correct length of time, I could play a song without ever having heard it before. Of course, knowing a song beforehand certainly helped but wasn't necessary. With fiddle, it's different. If my finger is slight lower or higher on the string than it should be or if my bowing pattern is off, it won't sound right. The only way I really know that I'm playing the proper note is if it sounds right or by staring at the tuner the entire time I play. As I try to get away from dependence on the tuner and recognize on my own a particular note, having a tune clearly engrained in my mind is necessary.

How do I go about getting those tunes in my mind? By listening to them, over and over again, while I fold laundry, prepare a meal, or sweep the living room. When a tune gets "stuck in my head," I know I'm ready to try to play it. When I hit a discordant note, I don't have to look at my tuner, I just compare it to the note in my mind and know to try to move my finger slightly. I am not "learning by ear" just yet, as I still rely on sheet music to some extent. However, I am developing my ear for the sound of the notes and the style of playing I hope to eventually be able to imitate. The more I've heard a tune, the better I'll be able to play it.

The same goes for my life, if I want the actions in my life to demonstrate a particular tune, I need to know it well. Eris had an assignment from her Sunday school teacher to read the book of Matthew. Since her teacher speaks Thai, we aren't always exactly sure of what is required, but I decided it would certainly not hurt for us to read together, even if that wasn't the assignment. This morning, Eris finished reading the first half of the book to me while I hung laundry on the line. I strongly desire my life to follow the Bible, to reflect Jesus in every aspect. To do so, I need to be listening to the Word, carrying it in my heart and mind. I would do well to have a verse or passage going through my mind as I wash dishes, get the children ready for bed, or wander through the vegetable market. I often do find a hymn or praise song in my heart that I hum around the house, uplifting my spirit when I'm inclined to be discouraged.

Just as I'm learning to place my finger in a certain place on a particular string to produce a distinct sound, I am learning endeavoring to follow patterns in my behavior. When my children behave poorly, "Love is patient" should automatically jump into my mind, followed by an enactment of this. When I feel weary of living in Bangkok, I want to see all around me as "sheep without a shepherd" and earnestly desire that I may have a part in their coming to know Jesus. On days I don't want to persevere, I "continue to run the race so as to win the prize." When I'm tempted to worry about what the future holds, I need to choose to "not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself." The more I listen to, read, and meditate on Scripture, the more my life will be able to sound like the right tune.

When the Cat's Away, the Mice... Fuss!

At supper, Philip asked me what I thought about him going to a movie this evening. I was curious to know what time, so he looked up the schedule and said 7:40; he would need to leave at little after 7:00. This gave him time to finish supper with us and wash the dishes, as he usually does. He also wouldn't be back too late, so I thought it sounded fine. I usually do most of the bedtime routine with the kids, so it's not much different when he's not around, other than I have to sing the bedtime songs instead.

Well, just as soon as Philip walks out the gate, things begin to go awry. Simeon had fallen asleep in his high chair during supper. Often a short nap at this time, allows him to get through to bedtime without a fuss. This time, he woke up when Philip was getting ready to leave and was not happy. He screams the whole time I cleaned up his high chair. The girls are supposed to be putting the blocks away and getting ready for their shower. I pick Simeon up, and as he begins calming down, Eris informs me that Meriel had just dumped all the blocks out. I order her to "pick them up right now." She tells me, "No!" For the sake of a peaceful evening, I consider overlooking this sass since she does start to put the blocks in the box, but then she sticks her tongue out at me. I send her straight to the shower, and the second wailing episode begins.

I settle down on the couch to nurse Simeon into a better mood. Then Eris arrives to explain that Meriel is using "enough soap for six Meriels." Again, I consider letting this go, but we've had "lessons" on this (we have all sorts of interesting "lessons" such as practicing saying thank you to those who give up seats for us on public transportation, learning what voice volume is appropriate to use in crowded places) with me demonstrating how much soap to use and how to obtain it followed by each child showing me how to do it and then a "practice session." I really feel I should be consistent in encouraging the girls not be wasteful, so I set Simeon down to go into the bathroom to remind Meriel how to press the soap dispenser head down partway. Simeon throws a fit.

Again, I'm on the couch calming Simeon. Eris enters, "The shower head is spraying funny. I can't really explain it." Simeon has to unlatch again, he's just getting to big to carry and nurse at the same time if I need the use of my hands. He's mad. I'm frustrated. I think that the girls must have done something to break the shower head; often they let it swing down to slam against the wall instead of replacing it in its holder. When I turn on the water to examine how it's flowing, I realize that the hose is leaking. This is probably just a matter of wear and tear, so I am a bit mollified. Eris starts crying because she doesn't want to use the squeeze sprayer or bucket and dipper for her shower. "I wish Daddy were here!" "I wish he were too," I think; out loud, "If he were I don't think he'd be able to fix it tonight. Just rinse off quickly."

I get Meriel into bed. She's fussing because she doesn't get a story. Simeon is screaming so I can barely hear her. I patiently explain that she needs to remember to be respectful to Mommy and that is why she does not get a story. I need to get Simeon calmed down, and I will check on her when I tuck Hollis in in a little bit. She does calm down a bit, and I know she will fall asleep quickly. I give her a big hug and kiss.

Finally, I'm back on the couch, nursing Simeon and ready to read Hollis's story. Simeon likes this library book, which is a story about a dog. He's happy now and Hollis is in a good mood because she got a nap before supper. I am thankful, because otherwise I would be dealing with another naughty child. After her story, I remember that Hollis has not done her homework for preschool the next day. I'm doubly grateful for her nap that will allow her to do her page of tracing 6 and ๖ without hassle. She cheerily and carefully does her page while I read Eris's story.

Then Hollis is in bed. As I'm at the door, she calls me back because she has forgotten to give me a hug, then an "Eskimo kiss." Now the door is shutting, Simeon is fussing about something and I accidentally clip his heel in the door, so now he has a reason to cry. I'm down to two. Simeon usually likes showers, so I pacify him by telling him it's shower time. As we're taking a shower, he gets mad again because we can't use the regular shower head. We hurry through and get out. Eris is trying to play a computer game, a treat since Daddy is gone and we have a chance to use it. She's having trouble figuring out what to do next. I make a note that we have to somehow get her more computer literate, since it's so important these days. It's hard with Philip using the computer nearly constantly, except when he's doing something with the kids.

When it's time for Eris to wrap up what she's doing on the computer, she gets attacked by one of the "phantoms" in the game. She's frustrated; she had wanted to complete the adventure. She doesn't like doing things that she is not immediately good at. She's crying out of frustration, missing Daddy, weariness. She wants to go to bed; perfect because it is time for her to do so. I tuck her in. One child sleep child left.

I hear Eris sobbing because she wants me to sleep with her, but she knows I'm not going to tonight. I couldn't stay with her longer because Simeon was threatening to wake up her sisters. She will calm down and fall asleep soon. Simeon clambers for my attention. At first he wants to wiggle and nurse, but I chide him when he gets too wild and set him aside. He screams, calms, climbs back in my arms ready to rest. Gradually the whimpers from the bedroom subside. Simeon nurses to sleep in my lap as I write this.

Four children asleep. Actually, it wasn't really that bad. Now it's Mommy time!

Time Spent with Daddy

On my first Father's Day, I was three days old. I gave my Daddy an Oregon belt buckle and Mommy gave him the belt to match. I've given him many gifts over the years, many of them homemade. Now days, the gift we enjoy sharing the most is just talking and spending time together. I am a self-proclaimed "Daddy's Girl," and I have many memories of doing things him. In honor of Father's Day, I'd like to share a few.

When I was little, my Daddy was really busy working on his doctorate. When he wasn't at the seminary for class, he was upstairs in his study. He had a box of fun toys that were not allowed to leave the room. At bedtime, I would climb the stairs to say good night. If he wasn't too busy, Daddy would play with some of the toys with me: a helicopter that could fly about the room, a really long stuffed snake, a wind-up hopping chick. Sometimes he would show me "tricks" on the computer, like moles popping everywhere on the screen or spray painting the background. Since I didn't have much time with him, those little times were very special.

I remember accompanying Daddy to the hardware store and him explaining all the different screws, bolts, and nails in the various bins. He seemed to know about so many things and didn't seem to mind answering lots of questions. Mom vividly remembers a time when we were all in the store together. I was given a choice of going with Mommy to one department or with Daddy to another. I choose Mommy, but after Daddy had already disappeared, I changed my mind and started screaming, "I want my Daddy!"

When I was older, I remember getting to stay up late with him on Saturday nights to watch British television shows on PBS. While my brother was his primary fishing buddy, we did have some wonderful trips together. I didn't enjoy getting up early, but I did enjoy riding the ocean swells with breeze whipping my hair - just Dad, the sea, the sky, and me. We also hunted together, silently walking the hills in the wet, autumn dawn. It was more about being with my Dad, then actually finding a deer. We enjoyed just about anything we did together.

My Dad and I both are bookworms and night owls, so we have enjoyed many midnight reading times and discussions together. I was going to read C.S. Lewis's Narnia series to myself, but he wanted to read it to me, so I let him do so. Whenever, he didn't want to read of an evening, I would threaten to read ahead. I've read entire books over his shoulder, just starting out of curiosity and then continuing because it was a good book. We've raced each other to the finish of other books, reading the same copy or sometimes checking a second one out of the library. We've reread books together (either the second time for him, me, or both). Right before college, I was the one who started the Harry Potter series, and told him that they were really good books but were going to get dark. He picked them up and read them all right away. We read the remaining books of the series together during my summer vacations. We went to a book party at the local library to pick up our copies of the final book during the summer between my second and third years of medical school when Eris was a few weeks old. I read that book during all those midnight and mid-day feeding sessions, allowing me to keep up with Dad despite my tiredness.

I am so thankful for my Daddy and all the wonderful times we've spent together. God willing, we will have many more. He is someone I can have a good time with no matter what we're doing, someone I can be real and honest with, someone who prays for me and loves me, and just wants to be with me. I love you, Daddy!

"Time spent together is never wasted"

About Mommy

A friend posted on Facebook a list of questions and answers about herself which she had asked her six year old. He had some really cute responses. None of my daughters were that great but some are worth sharing. It's fun to get inside your child's mind by asking questions like these. Maybe I'll see if I can find some more lists and try to do something like this every once in a while.

What is something Mommy always says to you?
Hollis: I love you.
Meriel: She doesn't say anything always. (My literal minded child. "Ok, a lot.") Calm
             down.
Eris: You're not meaning not to.

What makes Mommy happy?
Hollis: I obey.
Meriel: When I behave.
Eris: Cleaning up.

What makes Mommy sad?
Hollis: Me being naughty.
Meriel: When I be naughty.
Eris: [Me] hitting Meriel.

How does Mommy make you laugh?
Eris: By laughing at my jokes.

What was Mommy like as a child?
Hollis: I don't remember.
Meriel: I don't know. Like Eris.
Eris: I don't know. Liked to play.

How old is Mommy?
Hollis: I don't remember. 21?
Meriel; Eris: 31


How tall is Mommy?
Meriel: 10 feet tall.
Eris: 5 feet

What is Mommy's favorite thing to do?
Hollis: Play!
Meriel; Eris: Read.


What does Mommy do when you're not around?
Hollis: Miss me.
Meriel: Play her fiddle.
Eris: Try to get presents for me.

If Mommy becomes famous, what will it be for?
Meriel: Doing a cartwheel on a trampoline at a circus.
Eris: Reading out loud, shouting at the top of her voice for 3 hours. (Pause.) Probably be
         famous for reading so many books.

What is Mommy really good at?
Hollis: School.
Meriel; Eris: Cooking

What is Mommy not very good at?
Meriel: Are you not very good at fiddling? (What do you think?) I think you're better at
             fiddling. I think you're not very good at cartwheeling.
Eris: (Laughs) I know, getting away from her children.

That's all for now. Good night!

A "Touchless" Date

Imagine you and your husband of ten years haven't been on a date in two-and-a-half years. Finally, you have an opportunity to go on a no-kids, out of the house, real live date. As you step out of the gate, your hands free from little fingers and diaper bags, you reach for each others' hands. Hooray, let the date begin!

This is how our late afternoon began yesterday. The reasons Philip and I haven't been on a date in so long are too numerous and complicated to relate. The simple explanation has to do with no nearby family, limited funds, and four young children. We do have plenty of time together at home with the children, and even "alone time" in the evenings watching documentaries, reading, and conversing about various topics - Biblical issues, astronomy and physics, fantasy literature. If you can name it, we've probably discussed it. With our tenth anniversary approaching, we finally had the opportunity for a real date. We knew someone who could watch the kids, and she was willing to do it.


Contemporary Thai culture clashes between conservative and progressive. Here it is inappropriate for a couple to demonstrate affection in public. Certainly no kissing, no cuddling, no hugs, not even hand holding. While many foreigner visitors ignore these taboos, as ambassadors of Christ, we need to respect them. When Philip and I go somewhere together, it's with four children. I carry Simeon in the baby-carrier and hold one or two hands. Philip carries the bag packed with all the stuff four young children may need while out and hold the other necessary hands. We do not have free hands for each other. It has never been an issue. Suddenly this cultural prohibition was a bother; it felt odd to be walking alone with my husband without touching him.

Philip and I allowed ourselves to hold hands to the end of our yaek (short dead end street), and that was it. I learned that I'm terrible at walking right beside my husband when I'm not holding his hand. I'm habitually a fast walker, so my pace kept gradually increasing so I would end up ahead of him. (Hopefully, not a metaphor for our marriage.) When I focused on keeping in step with him, I did much better. As we wandered around Jatujak Market, people kept cutting between us. I longed to grab his hand to keep us a unit. We still had a wonderful time together, just the two of us. Far be it from me to complain about this opportunity. However, next time we have a chance for date in the "Western" world, I look forward to holding my husband's hand and showing the world that we are one.

Comfort in the Storm

I enjoy a good rainstorm, especially at night. The pattering of rain on the tin roof is relaxing to me, lulls me to sleep. Meriel, on the other hand, is afraid of rain. More precisely, she is afraid of what rain usually brings. Last week, it started to rain in the middle of the night. Before I even heard the rain, I heard shrieks coming from the girls' bedroom. When I ran in there and asked Meriel what was wrong, she said, "It's raining." And then, "I'm scared that it might thunder." I tried to get her to calm down and not worry about something that might happen in the future. She settled down a bit, so I went back to bed. Then, a peal of thunder crashed. Howling, Meriel hurried into our room, arms full of stuffed animals and blankets. That was the only thunder we heard for the night, but it was enough to validate Meriel's fears.

As I lay in bed trying to get back to sleep, I thought about how I often worry about what might happen in the future. It's really just as ridiculous as Meriel being afraid of rain. "Do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself!"

At supper one evening, we were talking about the weather. I mentioned that it is almost always cool in Oregon. Philip countered with, "But it rains a lot." I could see the concern on Meriel's face with the mention of rain, so I added that it usually doesn't thunder. Her face brightened, "I would play outside in the rain all the time!" I informed her that it is often cold when it rains, and she laughed. The idea of cold rain without thunder is such a foreign concept to her.

Last night, we did have a real thunderstorm. Lightening flashed right side our window, thunder shuddering the house at the same instant. Meriel pressed up right against my side, Simeon sandwiched between us. The power of the storm was impressive. Waves of rain blew against the house. I enjoyed the coolness the rain brought, the refreshing breeze of the storm. My children won't always need my comforting arms around them, so I just cherished the moment. Eventually, the storm blew past, and we all drifted into a restful sleep. I pray that my children will always let God restore peace in their hearts and lives in such a manner.

Lead the Way

If you've ever tried to walk through a crowded place with a child, you've probably figured out that young children are not very good at navigating. Or maybe your children are better at that than mine. The ideal situation is to walk hand in hand, side by side. In Bangkok, however, this is often impossible, even with only one child. Food carts, poles, flower pots, holes clutter the sidewalks leaving little room for people to pass. Add people waiting for buses, in line to buy food, meandering as they look at their phones, riding mopeds and push carts, and it is often necessary to walk single file.

If I put a child in front of me, I can easily keep track of her. But then she minces along, getting distracted by every little thing. She has trouble making the decision which direction to go around an obstacle. She stops for a moped directly in the middle of its intended path. She hesitates before every turn and curve. She often obliviously runs into a person or step into his way. An already slow and hindered trip becomes unbearably frustrating.

The second option is for the child to follow me. I can lead the way, threading decisively around, through, and between obstacles. I step aside for mopeds, the elderly, and heavily laden pedestrians. The problem with this is that I cannot see whether or not the child is actually following me. They often have trouble following right on my heels and get too far behind. If I have a free hand, I guide her in this way, but often I am caring heavy bags and this is not possible. Usually, I have her hold onto my skirt but this can also lead to trouble with a lagging child blocking the way with a stretched out skirt. Try this operation with four children, and it is a wonder we ever make it anywhere!

This morning, I was thinking about how difficult it can be to physically guide my children around the swarming streets of Bangkok. How much more challenging and crucial it is to direct them through the spiritual aspects of life. I, as a mother, need to be at the forefront showing my children how to push through discouragement, avoid temptation, embrace adversity. I can teach them how to remain aware of the spiritual battles raging around us daily. I must run the race without meandering or hesitation. They will follow me, so I better be following Christ.