hiding our weakness

I often find a desire in myself to hide the fact that “ik ben Amerikan.” Mostly I want to hide my lack of proficiency with Dutch. You might say I try to hide my weakness...

for the rest of this post go to the Ichtus Blog where several Ichtus staff and I regularly post. I'm the only one who posts in English, but hopefully soon my Dutch will be good enough to change that.

the hammock

This weekend we started enjoying a hammock. There is kind of a long story that goes with it (but I'll try to keep it brief). One of the things we discovered in our shed when we moved into our house in Gent was a hammock. A friend told us he had inspected it and it would need cleaning and repair because mice had defiled it (in that special mouse way that makes you want to set fire to something and then go take a shower). Last summer was full of tiring activities like learning to ride the bus, waiting for our number to be called at the city's administrative building, and shopping for second hand furniture. We never got around to cleaning and repairing the hammock (nor did we burn it and take a shower). A few days ago my wife was apparently overcome by the need to relax. So she moved cleaning the hammock 48 positions up the to-do list, right to the top. Bleach, detergent, broom, garden hose, these were the tools of her toil. Well, we found out a couple things. 1) It wasn't mice, it was rats (as evidenced by skeletal remains...maybe we've been watching too many cop dramas lately). And 2) the damage wasn't as bad as we expected. Today was a gorgeous day in Gent. I helped Trina move the hammock into a shady spot and instead of a normal Sunday afternoon nap she upgraded to a hammock nap. When the kids came out from their conventional naps they wanted to be with their mom on the hammock (that is, they wanted to be on the hammock their mom happened to occupy). And this evening after putting the kids to bed we laid on the hammock, read a bit, and talked our way to dusk. We also decided it was time to light the giant citronella candle we also inherited in our shed. So the hammock (and to a lesser degree the candle) saved us from a mind-numbing expedition into tv land.

So here's what you learn about missionary life.
1) Missionaries should all have a story involving rats (or at least the skeletal remains of one).
2) Missionaries often need a little help to relax.
3) Missionaries usually can't just go out and buy a new _______(insert whatever item is damaged, lost, stolen, or defiled by rodents).
4) God seems to know just what missionaries need. Sometimes someone pulls into our driveway and delivers it for him, and sometimes he makes us get out the bleach.

OK. Maybe these things don't apply to all missionaries, but it's part of our story. We're thankful all the time for people who have been called to places where the rat stories and other hardships are serious. But God has called us here, to a pleasant neighborhood in a beautiful city. And if he's called you to small town South Dakota life, or if you're someone proving indeed you can go anywhere from here*, please be faithful and press on.

*the motto of South Dakota State University

photo tour of Belgium

For those of you who are curious about where we live, are considering a vacation to Europe, or are procrastinating, here's a brief video tour of Flanders.

de-baptism catching on in Flanders

To do list:

1) make a Living Will

2) get an organ donor card

3) get de-baptised from the Catholic church

Here's an excerpt from an article in Flanders Today about an interesting trend in Belgium.

“I became a member of the church when I was three days old. I had no choice in the matter. Now, 36 years later, I want them to cross my name out of the register.” Last week TV presenter and Mechelen alderwoman Kristl Strubbe informed her Facebook followers how to become “de-baptised” as a Roman Catholic.

Read the article in its entirety here.