The Bigger Story

This is another longer, more serious post. As Lent starts, I wanted to share some of the things that didn't go as planned in my life, and also the ways in which it's turned out to be better than ok:

Although I'm South African, I'm originally from Durban so our move to Cape Town hasn't exactly been a homecoming. It's something a little different, particularly because I'm returning with Eugene (who grew up in Seoul and has U.S. and Korean family), Noah and Tiny Blob.

I wrote a while ago that our move has helped remind me that I can still have dreams and hopes for the future- even if different, less individualistic dreams than those from childhood. In Boston, I felt part of a breed of students who came and never left, like something in my story had gone awry. I was very attached to the overarching story of my life, rather than to the joy of individual moments or the place those moments seemed to be leading.

Lia and Sergio took us to this church that was built twice- parts are as old as a millennium, and parts are much younger. I really liked the combination. Noah ate maybe 8 clementines outside the church, so we're checking that he's still alive.

Rather than recounting this overarching plan, I'll just refer you to Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman. Originality has never been my strength.

Somewhere in the middle of this story came unexpected illness and commitment to an abusive church. Eug and my marriage was suggested by leaders in the church, where suggestions were not just suggestions, and where the construct of marriage was about service to the church and taking a big step of faith for God. After we left the church in 2008, it was very hard to hold in tension my commitment to our marriage as something real and binding (and full of love) and my hope that others not go through what we did. I had returned to the U.S. to marry Eug- We'd married, I hadn't studied medicine, I was now deep in debt (ah, BU) and wasn't really sure what was next, since it seemed like it would take a miracle to leave the U.S. this time.

I love this style of semi-detached houses where we live now. 

Fast-forward five years: Returning to South Africa this year did feel miraculous, and it meant a return to that overarching story. Yet it was an outward return to a story we'd been living for a while. In Boston, our lives were rich. After leaving the southern baptist church, we experienced a lot of healing at the Greater Boston Vineyard. We were tremendously helped by the idea that practical things- money, how we spend our time, how we relate to family, how we treat the poor, how we work- could be part of creating heaven on earth. We could be part of glimpses of God right here, right now. 

We have time to read the local newspaper. And by local, I mean the People's Post for people living in the immediate 2.5 km radius in Salt River and Woodstock. Eug and I read every story. 

I think God gave me back a bit of the story I'd imagined (moving back to South Africa) to help me see all the other ways in which our lives have already been redeemed. I like to think that I'm part of a much bigger story, where the part I play is small, but it fits me perfectly. It's a story of family and creativity and community in a world that is ultimately God's. I'm still learning to notice really good moments, and that God is good in those moments and remains so in the bad ones. I'm convinced that God is fair, and that there's a big part of the picture I don't see yet, where even the suffering of the destitute will be redeemed. Which I believe in my heart, yet find incredibly hard to actually see when I can't get over my annoyance at the beggar at my gate.

Eug and I are both parts of this bigger story. In Boston, the blessings loomed large (baby Noah after miscarriages, paying off debt, having work, friends, a sunny day, Snow Emergencies, Panera, Trader Joe's,  etc) whereas here, my sense is that the bigger story must take center stage for a while while the rest is in flux. We're vulnerable to throwing up our hands and giving in to the uncertainty. I'm not sure if that makes sense- what I mean is that we have fewer grounding facts of our life here- few friends, few plans, few belongings, less financial control, less work, no church yet, and in a strange way, less to struggle against and more struggle.

Noah eats a Super C. For an hour. With pictures.

Rather, we have the dream of things to come, and the thought that somehow, fixing the bathroom forms part of a bigger picture. Fixing the bathroom is not just for the sake of fixing the bathroom, though it has it's own benefits (being less smelly).  It's part of a picture where we have less money but more time and more DIY skills. Which matters, in ways we don't fully understand.

In this context, realizing that God is good and that we are part of much, much bigger story seems either like small comfort or like more than enough to sustain us through unsettled times. I'm hoping it can be plenty, and also that we can catch glimpses of that story even as life seems strange. May God bless you in your part in the story. And have a great Lent, if you are thinking about Lent this year.

Homebirthing and Empowerment

As I'm getting closer to Tiny Blob's due date, I recently received our Homebirthing Checklist. I heard from a friend it's called being "empowered", and I actually do feel pretty empowered. Yet the list is very, very down-to-earth and makes me think of cleanup more than the beauty of childbirth.

My last birth experience was frantic, quick and extraordinarily painful. I got the unmedicated experience I'd been hoping for, but spent so much (10 hours, give or take) of the labour pretending to myself I wasn't in labour that the labour ended up being more about getting through than anything else. If I watch a TV show while I'm in labour this time, it certainly won't be Glee. Moments after the birth, I remember Eug disappearing with Noah  and the nurse and finding myself alone, in a fair amount of pain, in the storage closet at Mt Auburn, and wondering what I was supposed to feel or do. Wishing I'd forced them to let me breastfeed or told someone I couldn't get the stupid gown off to breastfeed because of the blood pressure cuff and being pathetically weak at that point. Eug called his mom and my parents; I think I wrote an e-mail to EeCheng on my iPod and told her to come over, and waited for what seemed like infinity before Noah and Eug returned. In the end, it didn't matter so much- these things are trivial compared to the enemas, shaving and episiotomies of our mothers (or worse, complications)- but this time round I get to stay with my baby.

Proof of the blood pressure cuff they wouldn't take off.

I do feel empowered to make choices, and I wonder if this sense of choice helps to make the experience a little less alienating. I wonder if being at home will make me less distracted by the hustle and bustle, and more able to see and experience the process. I'm not romanticizing- it's painful and gritty and there's a lot of blood involved- but it's also miraculous and I don't want to miss that.

Which I guess brings me back to being 30+ weeks pregnant and hoping to defend a PhD proposal in about 6 weeks. Which I don't bring up to make you think I'm tough. My sense is that, unless my personality changed in some fundamental way, the only way to get through my dissertation and be a loving mom is to do the defense before I have Tiny Blob, rather than soon after.

The question I'm trying to wrestle with is: how do I not miss out on these last ten weeks of pregnancy over something so ultimately trivial as a PhD proposal defense? Being pregnant is miraculous, and it may not happen again, so I hope I can notice the kicks and the rolls and the urge to prepare (less the tiredness and the heartburn). I want to imagine this next phase in our lives, and be grateful for it. Then, when labour rolls around as the bridge between our current world and the world in which we have two boys, I pray it can be about more than cleanup or survival or enduring a lot of pain.

Noah in his current, exuberant state.

And for your enjoyment, the home birthing list:
• 10 - 20 linen savers ( available from Birth Options / Dischem/ large pharmacy’s)
• 2 big buckets (1 for linen, other for waste) with black bags in each
• 2l ice cream or similar container for the placenta
• Thick plastic sheeting for bed and floor (old shower curtains are good) available from e.g. Plastics for Africa, Builder’s Warehouse…
• old towels- at least 8
• mat for kneeling on (e.g. foam/ camping/ yoga)
• Heater and/or hot water bottles/ heated wheat packs – birth environment needs to be warm
• Plug point close to envisioned birthing area (but be aware of safety electricity vs. water!)
• Mobile light e.g. desk lamp , strong torch)
• Sports drink bottle / straws
• Face cloths / water spray bottle
• Hand held mirror ( cheap at the Crazy Store / Chinese shops)
• Gym ball
• Roll of paper towel
• Roll of cotton wool/ gauze
• Disinfectant / cleaning wipes / cloths
• Stuff for mom (maternity pads, undies, etc.)
• Stuff for baby (nappies, vest, babygrows HAT, etc.)
• Digital thermometer
• Music
• Camera / video recorder!
• Suitable food/ drinks for the occasion!
• Pain tablets for after birth e.g. Panado / Ibuprophen / Mypaid

Two More Blogs

This past week, Noah had almost zero tantrums and was generally about the incredible human being I've had the pleasure of being with. Which was a change from the previous week, when things like
a) walking in the door b) Waking up c) Anything
would make him scream and cry and lie on the floor for a long while. Somehow, putting him in his room until the tantrum was over worked amazingly well, also for helping me not to totally freak out that my child was freaking out. Moving has brought with it a lot of struggle, which I think Noah internalized. That and getting closer to aged two. I'll talk more about [the deeper parts of] moving in the next few days

In the meantime, I wanted to bring your attention to two more blogs on the right. One is Momentary Delight, the blog of a friend who is really good about sharing about faith experiences. I don't write very much about Christian faith here, though it's at the center of Concrete Gardener, mainly because I haven't been able to figure out how to share in a way that's true but feels safe- for me and for readers. I'm hoping it's something I can learn how to do. In the meantime, read Momentary Delight.

The other blog is my sister's blog, Circles in the Sand. I love my sister's writing style and her gentleness.