I finally got to go to the circus this past week. That has nothing to do with the title. It's just a statement of fact. Unfortunately, they did not have the tight rope walking goat. They did have a goat that walked up to a small platform and then turned around on it. Overall, it was worth the less than a dollar that we paid to for a 2.5 hour show but disappointed me because of its lack of use of animals. They had an elephant that kicked a soccer ball and they rolled out some cages with a small bear as well as some sort of cat for about 30 seconds. That was all the animals they ended up having. I'm pretty sure the amateur circus in Peru is better, but I can't say for sure because I've never been to it despite having grown up there.
I'll be going to Cambodia next week. I'll also be playing the Mennonite Game. It turns out that the couple who is coordinating with us to help lead our trip has family who goes to my brother's church. On top of that, the wife's mother is my brother's next door neighbor and her sister is in my brother's Sunday school class. I also have connections to meet up with Keith Graber-Miller who grew up in my home church. It should be a good time, lol. The trip itself is a 1 week retreat for those of us in Bangladesh with MCC. We are going to spend some needed time away from Bangladesh but also see a program that does some similar work. We will also do some things like swimming and probably getting sun burns as well. All this is to say, I don't know if I'll have a post up next week. I've gotten pretty irregular lately anyway so I suppose you won't be too put out.
Finally, what you've all been waiting for. Mighty Mouse. Reason #51 why I love Bangladesh. Because there are so many people here, you often see people who have faces that remind you of people you know back in the U.S. Well this morning on the way to work I saw a man who looked like Mighty Mouse. I was pretty amazed that such a man existed and thankful that I got to witness such a humorous thing. I also saw a man who slightly looked like Gomer Pyle but it wasn't as strong as Mighty Mouse was.
The simple pleasures, you need to cherish them sometimes.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Thoughts are an odd thing...
I thought I had posted once about 9 days ago. It turns out I was wrong, it was more than 9 days ago, and so I got some healthy reminders from multiple sources telling me that I need to blog. Being an appeaser, I'll fill you in on the strange and unusual life I've lived in the past couple of weeks.
I've been reading a prayer book that a friend sent me. It's been wonderful having a short but poignant something to look forward to reading every day. It has also been a wonderful thing for giving me fodder to think about on my 25-30 minute bike rides to work. Ben (the Canadian SALT'er) and I were just having a conversation about how much time we have to think about odd things on that bike ride. We had both ended up writing poems. I didn't write mine down and I'm not going to as it wasn't very good unless you have the acting that goes along with selling like one of those beat poets (by the way, I just realized that I've never actually seen a beat poet unless you count Jeff Gundy at faculty follies or some similar event). My poem was about the lorry (sp?) trucks that you see all painted up and carrying ridiculous loads here. It came about because was riding past one as it parked on the side of the road and I could hear it creaking as it settled in under it's heavy load. As is often the case, the truck in my poem crashes and the driver flees/dies (depending on the version) but, because this is Bangladesh (and therefore nothing can go to waste) the owner fixes the truck up. It goes back on the road and the whole process starts again. In retrospect, my poem is mostly depressing and makes me feel bad for the trucks. That said, I've also pondered what would happen if you tried firing a shotgun while riding a bicycle as well as how accepting diminishing marginal utility would affect how we view indifference curves. All this is to say that what I ponder on that bicycle is a strange spectrum.
Speaking of that bicycle, I've had requests that I share a story of something that happened to me this past week while I was on it.
The moon wasn't out a couple of nights this past week and as a result I couldn't see to well on those nights. On this night in particular I was riding down a dark alley with brick houses on one side and a brick wall on the other (it was really a pretty creepy setting to begin with). I saw a group of adults on the right side and another group on the left side. There was about 6 of them and the gap between them was about 4-6ft. I decided to ride between them like normal but at last second my worst nightmares were realized. No, they didn't mug me if that is what you think I was about to say, no in my opinion mugging would have been less heart rendering and unbearable because at last second a toddler came bursting out of the group on the right running towards the group on the left right in front of me. I didn't have much reaction time and the best I was able to manage was to slam on the brakes. Unfortunately, my steel bike, my laden book bag, and myself all carry a lot of momentum on a bike (especially one with poor brakes to begin with). So I hit the kid. Not just tap mind you, I've done the rough math in my head, with all that gear I was probably 6-10 times as heavy as that kid so even a small amount of speed carries a significant transfer of energy as my momentum is slammed into his. I walloped that poor child pretty solid. I don't think I actually ran him over but somehow he ended up between my tires. That was about the moment when the "banshee" yells started. By "banshee" yells I'm of course talking about the child's mother or female relative that was supposed to be watching this kid. She was soon joined in by a chorus of about 30 people who materialized out of nowhere all of whom were screaming and shouting. I have never seen so many people appear out of no where so fast in my life. It took them about 20-30 seconds to assemble. The men grabbed me to keep me from fleeing the scene (this grabbing is a customary reaction as is the customary reaction of fleeing when you do hit someone). If you kill someone and the mob manages to grab you before you get away then they basically beat you immediately on the spot which is probably why the tradition of fleeing started. Luckily, I didn't kill this child but he was crying and they didn't know the extent of the injuries because we were in a dark alley with no lights on, so they took him to a house with a light. The mob moved along with them and I with the mob. I'm lucky that I am someone that is calm under pressure. I never freaked out during all of this. While they were looking at the kid I was explaining (with my poor but adequate Bangla) to those interviewing me what happened. Once they realized that it was an accident, I wasn't lying, I was concerned about the child, and that I was foreigner they began to get a lot less hostile. They told me to wait and once they had sufficiently checked out the child and ascertained that I apparently didn't do too much damage they let me go. I wanted to see if I'd done much damage but I figured I shouldn't push my luck with an angry mother whose child was still crying around. It has been my past learning that angry mothers don't always think about everything clearly when their child is crying so I did what they said and started riding.
Not more than 100 yards down the road I was overwhelmed with a surreal experience. I had just hit a small child in a dark alley, an angry mob had formed, and here I was less than 5 minutes later and no farther than 100 yards away in a well lit intersection with a bunch of people going about normal life with no clue what had just happened or more specifically what I had done. I could extrapolate on how this same thing happens to us all the time but it is not my intention to be philosophical with this so I won't.
I haven't been back to check on the child yet. I want to go but figure it is best to give the incident some time to mend itself before returning. My boss told me that they will likely try to extort money out of me if I do go back and he advised against it. I personally feel terrible about hitting the child and think going back would help my own mental stability while helping to foster a better understanding of western mindsets for the local people. I could be wrong though, maybe I'll go back and my boss will be right. Maybe they will just see this as a chance to try to pry some money out of me. I'm resolute about the fact that I'm not giving them money but I imagine that could be a situation in which dealing with their demands is mentally tasking. This is Bangladesh though and I would suspect that everyone here has their fair share of mental burdens to deal with.
Also in relevance to this situation, I've had several people tell me that I shouldn't be allowed around small children anymore. That would be terrible thing for me to deal with. I love small children. I'm terribly mean to them (usually I stick to torturing their minds) and they usually love it (with a few exceptions such as the one above). I guess what I'm trying to say is, please give me a little grace on this one. Your child and I want to torment each other with glee. ;-)
With that, I'll leave you to deal with your own odd thoughts.
I've been reading a prayer book that a friend sent me. It's been wonderful having a short but poignant something to look forward to reading every day. It has also been a wonderful thing for giving me fodder to think about on my 25-30 minute bike rides to work. Ben (the Canadian SALT'er) and I were just having a conversation about how much time we have to think about odd things on that bike ride. We had both ended up writing poems. I didn't write mine down and I'm not going to as it wasn't very good unless you have the acting that goes along with selling like one of those beat poets (by the way, I just realized that I've never actually seen a beat poet unless you count Jeff Gundy at faculty follies or some similar event). My poem was about the lorry (sp?) trucks that you see all painted up and carrying ridiculous loads here. It came about because was riding past one as it parked on the side of the road and I could hear it creaking as it settled in under it's heavy load. As is often the case, the truck in my poem crashes and the driver flees/dies (depending on the version) but, because this is Bangladesh (and therefore nothing can go to waste) the owner fixes the truck up. It goes back on the road and the whole process starts again. In retrospect, my poem is mostly depressing and makes me feel bad for the trucks. That said, I've also pondered what would happen if you tried firing a shotgun while riding a bicycle as well as how accepting diminishing marginal utility would affect how we view indifference curves. All this is to say that what I ponder on that bicycle is a strange spectrum.
Speaking of that bicycle, I've had requests that I share a story of something that happened to me this past week while I was on it.
The moon wasn't out a couple of nights this past week and as a result I couldn't see to well on those nights. On this night in particular I was riding down a dark alley with brick houses on one side and a brick wall on the other (it was really a pretty creepy setting to begin with). I saw a group of adults on the right side and another group on the left side. There was about 6 of them and the gap between them was about 4-6ft. I decided to ride between them like normal but at last second my worst nightmares were realized. No, they didn't mug me if that is what you think I was about to say, no in my opinion mugging would have been less heart rendering and unbearable because at last second a toddler came bursting out of the group on the right running towards the group on the left right in front of me. I didn't have much reaction time and the best I was able to manage was to slam on the brakes. Unfortunately, my steel bike, my laden book bag, and myself all carry a lot of momentum on a bike (especially one with poor brakes to begin with). So I hit the kid. Not just tap mind you, I've done the rough math in my head, with all that gear I was probably 6-10 times as heavy as that kid so even a small amount of speed carries a significant transfer of energy as my momentum is slammed into his. I walloped that poor child pretty solid. I don't think I actually ran him over but somehow he ended up between my tires. That was about the moment when the "banshee" yells started. By "banshee" yells I'm of course talking about the child's mother or female relative that was supposed to be watching this kid. She was soon joined in by a chorus of about 30 people who materialized out of nowhere all of whom were screaming and shouting. I have never seen so many people appear out of no where so fast in my life. It took them about 20-30 seconds to assemble. The men grabbed me to keep me from fleeing the scene (this grabbing is a customary reaction as is the customary reaction of fleeing when you do hit someone). If you kill someone and the mob manages to grab you before you get away then they basically beat you immediately on the spot which is probably why the tradition of fleeing started. Luckily, I didn't kill this child but he was crying and they didn't know the extent of the injuries because we were in a dark alley with no lights on, so they took him to a house with a light. The mob moved along with them and I with the mob. I'm lucky that I am someone that is calm under pressure. I never freaked out during all of this. While they were looking at the kid I was explaining (with my poor but adequate Bangla) to those interviewing me what happened. Once they realized that it was an accident, I wasn't lying, I was concerned about the child, and that I was foreigner they began to get a lot less hostile. They told me to wait and once they had sufficiently checked out the child and ascertained that I apparently didn't do too much damage they let me go. I wanted to see if I'd done much damage but I figured I shouldn't push my luck with an angry mother whose child was still crying around. It has been my past learning that angry mothers don't always think about everything clearly when their child is crying so I did what they said and started riding.
Not more than 100 yards down the road I was overwhelmed with a surreal experience. I had just hit a small child in a dark alley, an angry mob had formed, and here I was less than 5 minutes later and no farther than 100 yards away in a well lit intersection with a bunch of people going about normal life with no clue what had just happened or more specifically what I had done. I could extrapolate on how this same thing happens to us all the time but it is not my intention to be philosophical with this so I won't.
I haven't been back to check on the child yet. I want to go but figure it is best to give the incident some time to mend itself before returning. My boss told me that they will likely try to extort money out of me if I do go back and he advised against it. I personally feel terrible about hitting the child and think going back would help my own mental stability while helping to foster a better understanding of western mindsets for the local people. I could be wrong though, maybe I'll go back and my boss will be right. Maybe they will just see this as a chance to try to pry some money out of me. I'm resolute about the fact that I'm not giving them money but I imagine that could be a situation in which dealing with their demands is mentally tasking. This is Bangladesh though and I would suspect that everyone here has their fair share of mental burdens to deal with.
Also in relevance to this situation, I've had several people tell me that I shouldn't be allowed around small children anymore. That would be terrible thing for me to deal with. I love small children. I'm terribly mean to them (usually I stick to torturing their minds) and they usually love it (with a few exceptions such as the one above). I guess what I'm trying to say is, please give me a little grace on this one. Your child and I want to torment each other with glee. ;-)
With that, I'll leave you to deal with your own odd thoughts.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Lamentations
The past several days there have been plenty of frustrating things going on in my life. I'm going to tell you about them because I have nothing better to say this week and someone out there might find them interesting or amusing. Just for the record though, I'm not attempting to copy or imitate the book of Lamentations in the Bible. I just needed a good title and it seems to fit.
It all started with a bad headache a couple of nights ago. I was at the office and wanted to play some badminton with the staff but my headache was killing me so I decided to go home. I suspected I was coming down with something. Being that this is Bangladesh I had to go through all the formalities of explaining to the office staff why I wasn't sticking around to play badminton and where I was going. This was followed by the formality of them telling me how I should treat the headache and their speculations as to why I had it. Being that there are times when I'm a very impatient person, this was one of those moments where I wished I could just grab my bicycle and go. I couldn't do that though because that would be rude in Bangladesh and I get the idea that most of the time when I'm coming or going from a place, even my attempts at carrying out a moderately short yet polite conversation are still too rushed for their liking.
Then on the way home my front tire or tyre (if any of you are British or have a hankering for British spellings) got a leak and went flat fast. It was after dark and all the bicycle shops that are common on the sides of the street were closed, so I ended up walking my bike the last mile or so of my trip. The worst part was when I had to walk the dirt road. I was wearing sandals and because it was dark I was unable to see what was solid ground versus what was thick dust. As a result, I was constantly getting big wads of dust/dirt in between my feet and my sandals. This is the point where I tell you that I am one of those people who get sweaty feet. So then I had slippery, dirty, sandals on which is a pet peeve of mine. It drives me nuts when my sandals are wet and slippery. If they are dirty to boot, that just compounds the problem.
I eventually made it home and thought to prepare myself a quick healthy meal because I thought maybe I was getting sick. I put some tomato soup on the stove because that is what we had in the fridge and I thought it would be best to use it up. Then I threw some toast in the toaster because I figured I needed something to go with soup. Once I got the soup warmed up I realized that it wasn't soup but spaghetti sauce. At this point even that was enough to annoy me somewhat but being resourceful I just used toast as a substitution of pasta and ate enough to hold me over.
I ended up sleeping well that night and my headache went away. The next morning I still had to solve the problem of the flat tire (I speak American English not British English). I walked the distance to the nearest bicycle shop, which was thankfully open. I was even able to avoid the dust/dirt problem of the night before because it was light out and I could see where I was stepping with certainty. I had a good feeling about where the morning was going. That was before I went to the bicycle shop. To make a long story short, I got ripped off at the bicycle shop very badly. I somehow even let him trade out my tire with decent tread with one that was completely bald because the sides were cracked on mine (I had rode a little ways on the wheel rim before I realized that it really was flat which if you didn't know already, tears up the sidewalls of your tire something fierce). I rode away from the shop very angry and late for work. Luckily I was still a very long way from work and I'm still me. Over the course of my ride I convinced myself that it was silly to be mad because I had helped out a poor person who was just trying to make a living. I even rationalized that since I had been running late for work, that he had provided "emergency services" that would justify paying extra due to my dire need. I've even realized since then that the bald tire I now have actually helps me go through the sand in the thick dust better (sand and thick dust act like slush in that they whip your tire around but since my tire is bald it rides over the top of them rather than sinking down into them like my old tire did).
I've only got two woes left to go. The first is mosquitoes and the second is something that is at least remotely linked to them. Lately, farmers have been flooding their rice paddies for their next crop of rice which is welcome because it makes the countryside green and beautiful but unwelcome because it brings mosquitoes by the droves. Those stupid things make every situation annoying. They come at you when you are sitting at your desk, cooking, washing dishes, eating, and the worst of all, trying to sleep. I must have gotten woken up by mosquitoes about 4-5 times last night. I can think of nothing I hate more in this country than mosquitoes. The last thing is the situation with electricity here. I say it is related to mosquitoes because when the power goes out, all the mosquitoes seem to find me at a much more rapid rate than when it is on. Currently, the power has been going off several times a day. This is particularly scary because it hasn't even gotten hot to the point where I'm even running a fan yet. Last summer it would go off a couple of times a day during the hottest part of the summer. The problem is that many of the electricity plants in Bangladesh are run on CNG. Unfortunately, the countries' production of CNG is not able to keep up with the rising demand of CNG, so the government is starting to ration when this CNG out to power stations. With no solution in sight, my guess that this is going to be one very long summer in which electricity shortages are greater than ever.
End of my rant.
Have a nice day!
It all started with a bad headache a couple of nights ago. I was at the office and wanted to play some badminton with the staff but my headache was killing me so I decided to go home. I suspected I was coming down with something. Being that this is Bangladesh I had to go through all the formalities of explaining to the office staff why I wasn't sticking around to play badminton and where I was going. This was followed by the formality of them telling me how I should treat the headache and their speculations as to why I had it. Being that there are times when I'm a very impatient person, this was one of those moments where I wished I could just grab my bicycle and go. I couldn't do that though because that would be rude in Bangladesh and I get the idea that most of the time when I'm coming or going from a place, even my attempts at carrying out a moderately short yet polite conversation are still too rushed for their liking.
Then on the way home my front tire or tyre (if any of you are British or have a hankering for British spellings) got a leak and went flat fast. It was after dark and all the bicycle shops that are common on the sides of the street were closed, so I ended up walking my bike the last mile or so of my trip. The worst part was when I had to walk the dirt road. I was wearing sandals and because it was dark I was unable to see what was solid ground versus what was thick dust. As a result, I was constantly getting big wads of dust/dirt in between my feet and my sandals. This is the point where I tell you that I am one of those people who get sweaty feet. So then I had slippery, dirty, sandals on which is a pet peeve of mine. It drives me nuts when my sandals are wet and slippery. If they are dirty to boot, that just compounds the problem.
I eventually made it home and thought to prepare myself a quick healthy meal because I thought maybe I was getting sick. I put some tomato soup on the stove because that is what we had in the fridge and I thought it would be best to use it up. Then I threw some toast in the toaster because I figured I needed something to go with soup. Once I got the soup warmed up I realized that it wasn't soup but spaghetti sauce. At this point even that was enough to annoy me somewhat but being resourceful I just used toast as a substitution of pasta and ate enough to hold me over.
I ended up sleeping well that night and my headache went away. The next morning I still had to solve the problem of the flat tire (I speak American English not British English). I walked the distance to the nearest bicycle shop, which was thankfully open. I was even able to avoid the dust/dirt problem of the night before because it was light out and I could see where I was stepping with certainty. I had a good feeling about where the morning was going. That was before I went to the bicycle shop. To make a long story short, I got ripped off at the bicycle shop very badly. I somehow even let him trade out my tire with decent tread with one that was completely bald because the sides were cracked on mine (I had rode a little ways on the wheel rim before I realized that it really was flat which if you didn't know already, tears up the sidewalls of your tire something fierce). I rode away from the shop very angry and late for work. Luckily I was still a very long way from work and I'm still me. Over the course of my ride I convinced myself that it was silly to be mad because I had helped out a poor person who was just trying to make a living. I even rationalized that since I had been running late for work, that he had provided "emergency services" that would justify paying extra due to my dire need. I've even realized since then that the bald tire I now have actually helps me go through the sand in the thick dust better (sand and thick dust act like slush in that they whip your tire around but since my tire is bald it rides over the top of them rather than sinking down into them like my old tire did).
I've only got two woes left to go. The first is mosquitoes and the second is something that is at least remotely linked to them. Lately, farmers have been flooding their rice paddies for their next crop of rice which is welcome because it makes the countryside green and beautiful but unwelcome because it brings mosquitoes by the droves. Those stupid things make every situation annoying. They come at you when you are sitting at your desk, cooking, washing dishes, eating, and the worst of all, trying to sleep. I must have gotten woken up by mosquitoes about 4-5 times last night. I can think of nothing I hate more in this country than mosquitoes. The last thing is the situation with electricity here. I say it is related to mosquitoes because when the power goes out, all the mosquitoes seem to find me at a much more rapid rate than when it is on. Currently, the power has been going off several times a day. This is particularly scary because it hasn't even gotten hot to the point where I'm even running a fan yet. Last summer it would go off a couple of times a day during the hottest part of the summer. The problem is that many of the electricity plants in Bangladesh are run on CNG. Unfortunately, the countries' production of CNG is not able to keep up with the rising demand of CNG, so the government is starting to ration when this CNG out to power stations. With no solution in sight, my guess that this is going to be one very long summer in which electricity shortages are greater than ever.
End of my rant.
Have a nice day!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Desires
It's funny how quickly things change, just yesterday I was talking about how I was looking forward to going to my home in Bogra. Now I find myself wishing to go to my home back in Indiana more. Life is like that sometimes, you wake up and find yourself with a different perception of reality that was created in some situation (usually these situations are earth rattling, small amounts of time) that you in your narrow focus in life didn't properly see before. To be fair though, I'm sure the rattle my earth felt was nothing compared to the rattle my older brother felt when his first daughter Emma was born yesterday on valentine's day.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Success, frustration, and a desire to go home...
I should start off with the success, everyone likes those. This past week I've been in a flat with a freezer full of Marita Miller's cookies and I managed to not touch them. This was quite the feat for me but I figure it's better for my health (and wallet) if I avoid them. Maybe on future trips I will allow myself to have an occasional cookie but I really need to limit myself.
The frustration stems from why I was in that flat all week long. I'm in Dhaka for what is now the beginning of a third week doing database entry before MCC annual report deadline of February 15th. I've lost count of how many times I have been frustrated or angry at various aspects of this process in the past couple of weeks. I'm hoping we will be done with it all by our deadline but not exactly sure since a lot of my work revolves around when other people get me the information (I'm actually writing this because I'm waiting on people to get me more information)I need to enter and whether they actually get me the information that I need. I'm looking forward to Tuesday at this point because that will mean I can take a break from this task.
Which leads me to the third topic. I want to go home. Some of you may think I'm referring to Indiana with that statement but you are mistaken. I'm ok with being in Bangladesh. I look forward to my pending trip back to America in a couple of months but it's not like I'm counting down the days like my future sister-in-law is counting down the days to her wedding. In all reality, that trip to my Indiana home will require a fair amount of planning in the next couple of months. In the mean time, I'm looking forward to returning to my Bogra home. I've got a basketball rim to put up and friends to visit. It even looks like the Miller family will be coming for a visit this next weekend and I'm super excited for them to come. Like I said though, this all relies on getting done with the task at hand.
The frustration stems from why I was in that flat all week long. I'm in Dhaka for what is now the beginning of a third week doing database entry before MCC annual report deadline of February 15th. I've lost count of how many times I have been frustrated or angry at various aspects of this process in the past couple of weeks. I'm hoping we will be done with it all by our deadline but not exactly sure since a lot of my work revolves around when other people get me the information (I'm actually writing this because I'm waiting on people to get me more information)I need to enter and whether they actually get me the information that I need. I'm looking forward to Tuesday at this point because that will mean I can take a break from this task.
Which leads me to the third topic. I want to go home. Some of you may think I'm referring to Indiana with that statement but you are mistaken. I'm ok with being in Bangladesh. I look forward to my pending trip back to America in a couple of months but it's not like I'm counting down the days like my future sister-in-law is counting down the days to her wedding. In all reality, that trip to my Indiana home will require a fair amount of planning in the next couple of months. In the mean time, I'm looking forward to returning to my Bogra home. I've got a basketball rim to put up and friends to visit. It even looks like the Miller family will be coming for a visit this next weekend and I'm super excited for them to come. Like I said though, this all relies on getting done with the task at hand.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Realization of the day
Today I realized something.
When I work at a computer all day long I drink lots of water.
I think it's because I get bored.
Regardless, it makes me have to go to the bathroom frequently.
Sometimes I wonder if people think I have a bladder control problem.
No one has ever commented about it to me.
So I just keep on working and drinking.
When I work at a computer all day long I drink lots of water.
I think it's because I get bored.
Regardless, it makes me have to go to the bathroom frequently.
Sometimes I wonder if people think I have a bladder control problem.
No one has ever commented about it to me.
So I just keep on working and drinking.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The birth of determination
Thank you all for being patient with me in my blogging absence the past couple of weeks. As some of you know, I’ve been really busy with work and on top of that, my Grandmother died. For those of you who know me, you probably know that my grandmother meant a lot to me. I suppose that is putting it modestly since I consider her my greatest hero. In light of that, I figured I should make this post about my reflections on her in the last week or two.
Two songs have been stuck in my head since I learned of her death. The first, a hymn, is “My Hope is Built.” The chorus of this song goes, “On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.” Grandma stood on a rock and she was also constantly encouraging us to stand on one as well. I don’t know how many times I trusted her of all people with a prayer because I knew she had a faith that could move mountains. To be honest with you, during my toughest times here in Bangladesh I have taken a lot of solace in the fact that I knew grandma was praying for me and God would hear her prayers. The other song that has stood out to me was “Shine” by the Newsboys. The chorus of this song goes, “Shine, make them wonder what you’ve got, make them wish that they were not on the outside looking bored. Shine, let it shine before all men, let them see good works and then let them glorify the Lord.” Anyone that knew grandma, knows that she had great love and she shared it with everyone. She never knew a stranger. Above and beyond all that though, she always put God in front of everything she did. She truly shined. The thing about these songs that has stood out to me the most though is that this person is gone from this world and they are things about her that will truly be missed unless something is done about that. In light of this I’ve decided that I can’t help but view her death as a challenge to step up and bear whatever small part of that burden I am able.
The other thing that really hit me was something I got when I arrived in the Dhaka office this past week. I got a couple of letters in the mail and one of them was from my grandma. That was like a punch to the gut in how shocking it was. I debated for about 15 minutes what to do with it. Do I open it right away? Do I wait until later on when I have more privacy to open? What can I expect when I open it? Eventually I just decided to open it right there since I was at a desk in a room by myself. What was inside was something beyond even what I could have imagined was inside. The card said, "Let us be glad and rejoice. Revelations 19:7" and she wrote, "Merry Christmas, I love you,
Grandma Birkey." I’ll tell you what I told my dad in light of that situation, “I wish I could describe the myriad of different emotions and thoughts those simple words have caused me but I'll have to settle for telling you two things: I'm hanging in there and the extent that God worked through that woman just blows my mind.” I imagine that’s how I’m going to feel for a long time yet to come and I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s how a hero deserves to be remembered.
Two songs have been stuck in my head since I learned of her death. The first, a hymn, is “My Hope is Built.” The chorus of this song goes, “On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.” Grandma stood on a rock and she was also constantly encouraging us to stand on one as well. I don’t know how many times I trusted her of all people with a prayer because I knew she had a faith that could move mountains. To be honest with you, during my toughest times here in Bangladesh I have taken a lot of solace in the fact that I knew grandma was praying for me and God would hear her prayers. The other song that has stood out to me was “Shine” by the Newsboys. The chorus of this song goes, “Shine, make them wonder what you’ve got, make them wish that they were not on the outside looking bored. Shine, let it shine before all men, let them see good works and then let them glorify the Lord.” Anyone that knew grandma, knows that she had great love and she shared it with everyone. She never knew a stranger. Above and beyond all that though, she always put God in front of everything she did. She truly shined. The thing about these songs that has stood out to me the most though is that this person is gone from this world and they are things about her that will truly be missed unless something is done about that. In light of this I’ve decided that I can’t help but view her death as a challenge to step up and bear whatever small part of that burden I am able.
The other thing that really hit me was something I got when I arrived in the Dhaka office this past week. I got a couple of letters in the mail and one of them was from my grandma. That was like a punch to the gut in how shocking it was. I debated for about 15 minutes what to do with it. Do I open it right away? Do I wait until later on when I have more privacy to open? What can I expect when I open it? Eventually I just decided to open it right there since I was at a desk in a room by myself. What was inside was something beyond even what I could have imagined was inside. The card said, "Let us be glad and rejoice. Revelations 19:7" and she wrote, "Merry Christmas, I love you,
Grandma Birkey." I’ll tell you what I told my dad in light of that situation, “I wish I could describe the myriad of different emotions and thoughts those simple words have caused me but I'll have to settle for telling you two things: I'm hanging in there and the extent that God worked through that woman just blows my mind.” I imagine that’s how I’m going to feel for a long time yet to come and I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s how a hero deserves to be remembered.
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