Flexibility

A month ago, we celebrated Joel's fourth birthday.  The birthdays seem to come faster and faster each year.  Although somehow, knowing that we are on the brink of doing this all over again makes the birthday season (Faith's is coming up in about a week) seem a little less bittersweet this time around.  Most of the time I am thankful that Faith and Joel are learning more and becoming more independent every day.  It will certainly make caring for a newborn at the same time a little easier!  

This year, Joel's birthday reminded me of more than just how blessed I am to be his mom, and how thankful I am for a happy, healthy little boy to love.  It reminded me of some important lessons I've learned along the way, both in mothering, and in missions.  

One of the phrases that we heard quite often during our season of preparing to move to Kenya was "be flexible".  And I would agree, it is quite an asset to being a missionary if you can 'go with the flow' and 'roll with the punches'.  Between daily life with a whole different set of amenities than our home country, and the complexities of cross-cultural communication, life sure can be interesting here.  However, I believe my flexibility training began when I became a mom.  And some days here, there's a blur between the mothering hiccups and the cultural ones.  Joel's birthday was a good example of that.  

Joel and Faith both woke up excited for the day, ate some breakfast, and Joel got to open a few presents while Skyping with some family, since the time zones aligned well.  Only in Kenya will they be spoiled with such instant gratification!  Jim went off to school at 7:30, and we sent Faith off to start her school day at 8.  Joel and I proceeded to enjoy our morning together.  We read some books, looked at a few of his new treasures, talked, and laughed.  Around 9, we ventured into the kitchen to start his birthday cake.  I borrowed a new recipe from a friend for a milk-less, egg-less cake, because her family was joining us for the birthday dinner, and their son is severely allergic to both of those ingredients.  So with a little prayer that it would turn out well, we popped the cake into the oven, timing it so it would be done a few minutes before we would head up to Tuesday morning playgroup.  Joel was pretty excited to get to see so many friends on his birthday.  

At 9:50, I opened the oven to pulled out what I hoped would be a perfect cake, to find the oven mildy warm, and the cake rather unbaked.  Sigh.  Our gas bomb had run out.  To use our stove, we have a 13 kg tank that hooks up to the oven.  There aren't any gas lines here with a seemingly unlimited supply of fuel, like the states.  And the gas always runs out when it's least convenient.  Most of the time it is a Sunday, when you don't have a spare tank, and everything is closed.  So then you run over to the neighbor's with half-cooked whatever, hoping they aren't in the same predicament.  Well, this wasn't too bad, I had an extra bomb in our laundry room.  So I laughed, looked at Hannah, our inside helper, and asked her if she knew how to change it.  She looked at me with wide eyes and shook her head.  School being in session, I wasn't sure right away who to call.  Jim was in class, as were all our neighbors.  It was just a few minutes before staff chai time (a daily meeting) so I quickly called the husband of the family joining us for supper, as he teaches later on in the morning.  His wife and kids already on their way up to playgroup.  So he ran over, saved the day, and I left instructions with Hannah for taking the hopefully decent cake out of the oven, in the form of "I have no idea when it will be done..." 

So Joel and I headed out the door, I, wondering if I would be making a replacement cake when I got home.  Just behind our house is the elementary school, and we were headed to a home on the other side. It was just recess time for the Titchie students, so I expected to catch a glimpse of Faith playing with her friends, which is always fun.  Instead, I immediately saw her coming right towards us, headed home.  She was hanging her head, she was nearly doubled over, and as soon as she was within earshot, she started bawling.  Tummy ache.  

Turn around.  Go home.  Give her a banana, half a tums, and some water.  Go back to the school.  Talk with the teacher.  Decide to keep her with me to see if the food helps, or if it's something worse.  Get to playgroup 30 minutes late, after carrying sick daughter up the hill and dragging Joel along behind.

Phew.  Joel is happily oblivious, tells everyone that he is four, and runs right over to the sand box.  Faith doesn't seem to improve, so I take her home, leaving Joel to play.  I carried her back down to our house, put her in bed, got her some sprite and a puke bucket, tell Hannah I have to run back to get Joel, hoping for the best while I am gone.  

I am completely exhausted after climbing the hill (yet again) to get Joel.  Two hours earlier, I was thinking it was going to be such a relaxed, blissful day with my sweet four-year-old!  We get home, to find Faith had been sick, and Hannah sitting with her, rubbing her back.

Sometime, during all of this, Hannah had babysat the baking cake, removing it from the oven at the perfect time.  And browned all my meat and onions for the sloppy joe birthday dinner.  Have I told you how thankful we are for her?  She is a wonderful second set of hands, she loves Faith and Joel, and she makes living in Kenya just a little easier on us.  

I get Faith settled again, Joel's off playing, and now it's time to start thinking about lunch.  And birthday dinner for that matter.  

Amazingly, by the time Jim got home for lunch, Faith had perked up some and joined us.  

I started to put together the sloppy joes, but realized I needed tomato sauce.  I called a friend, asking if she had some in the pantry, and she said no, but her worker was going to the dukas (local shops) and she'd add it to her list.  Well, funny thing.  Kenya has their version of ketchup, and it's called Peptang.  We know of one American who likes the stuff.  (Autumn, that's you.)  Well, turns out, it says "tomato sauce" on the bottle.  So that's what showed up on my counter that afternoon.  Obviously, that's exactly what was on the grocery list, it just wasn't in my still-longing-for-Safeway mind.  It is neither tomato sauce like the nice little 8 oz cans of Hunts, nor is it ketchup.  It will probably sit in the cupboard for the next 18 months, until we bring it back for you, Autumn.

So, I put in a few cups of diced tomatoes.  Close enough.

On goes the day.  I'm a little more tired than I bargained for, but Faith doesn't seem to need a trip to the hospital, so things are looking up.  Turns out Joel was a little more tired than I bargained for as well.  Right before supper, he gave his sister a good swat, which, even if it's your birthday, gets returned with some discipline around here.  Then there was a repeat performance when his friend succeeded in blowing out the birthday candles before Joel did.  That made for a memorable birthday video!  

Finally the kids are in bed, the wrapping paper cleaned up, presents put away to be enjoyed in the morning, company gone, and the house is quiet.  Jim decides to tackle a few dishes before we crash into bed for the night.  He walks into the kitchen and... the power goes out.  We laugh.  And go to bed.