That is what they called us at the hotel. Whenever the phone would ring for Josiah and I would answer they would ask “Is Boss there?” My first reaction was “did he just say that?!!!” My second was, “yeah your talking to boss”. Well, I wished I said that. Just Kidding. But we said goodbye. Our friend found us a place to stay for a little bit. It’s closer to the university. But we are still looking for a family to stay with before we move in to our own place.
When we were reading an Indian culture book, they referred to it as “mosquito-ville” or something like that. Poor M has proven tastiest to the sqeeters. Our first few days he looked quite miserable. But we got a hold of repellent that we started lathering day and night.
Vange has had constant diarrea till today, poor girl. This evening while I was lounging with them and she was scootin around in her $3 dollar walker, (that barely looks like it would hold all of her 22 lbs.) I smelled a poop. But, I smelled a solid poop. Isn’t it funny how us mom’s can become so familiar with our child that we know. That is a teething diarea. THAT is a sick Diarea. Yogurt poop. Solid one. Constipated, yeah! I might not need a wipe. Well, I smelled solid, and when I investigated I was excited to be correct. It had been awhile.
Anyway, consequently she wakes a few times a night to guzzle down most of a sippy cup of water. So, I have been exhausted during the day. Yesterday I hit another emotional ride. I didn’t have any specific reason why I NEEDED to cry, but I just needed to. I didn’t even need a trigger. Josiah hugged me, told me I was his hero. Like no other woman in the world. I gave him my “your just sweet talking me” look. Then he went out and bought me snickers and mosquito nets for all my babies to sleep under and this:
(which has become our latest hobby, so fun!)It’s basically a mosquito vaporizer. Wave it at a squeeter and it’s soon smoke in the air. He knows how to make a woman happy, (well happier).
I have come along way in the crying department. As a child I would only cry in the dark, in my pillow. Never in front of people. Not even my own parent’s. I thought that crying made me look/seem weak to people and I never wanted to show my weakness or seem “out of control”.
But today I am fine crying in front of people, mostly. I have even come to terms with the fact that I won’t always have a legitamate reason for crying, but I should do it anyway.
And yesterday I recognized that the culture shock was taking its toll on me, along with the passing around of diarea, non-communication, and lack of American food and independence.
Jesus was saying “come and lay down, cry and sleep, it’s OK. It’s what you need. This is what today has in store, tomorrow I will give you strength for something else.”
And he did. I woke in the night to find myself in the bathroom for over an hour, felt something like childbirth and my arms went tingly and limp. I thought they would wither up and fall off. I crawled back in bed and told Josiah that maybe his 6 am walk with the neighborhood Patriarch wasn’t gonna happen. I couldn’t care for the kids like this. And when morning came I was right. No more bathroom trips, I just slept ALL DAY long. And still woke up tired. Josiah took a trip out at 5 this evening to get some errands done and when he came back I had enough energy to walk next door for a visit, another baby step in our journey to find a home. I met a few more women, more motherly and warm than the previous, giving me hope that someday I may have good friends here.
Oh sweet Jesus, this is quite a journey you have us on. So glad your strength is mine for the taking.