Cutting teeth and all it's process!

I’ve taken quite the blogging break.  As of late, 2 of my friends here have encouraged me to take it back up again.  It’s funny that we live in the same town and see each other multiple times a week, but they read my blog.  I process things out more when I have opportunity to sit down and write it all out.  It’s not to read my blog that they’ve encouraged me to start it back up; they know it helps me process; it helps me pull back from the demands of life and look hard for Jesus and what he is doing in and around me.  Look hard for the messages He is writing, though sometimes it feels more like carving, on my heart.  So I’m going to try.  There have been countless blog entries I’ve written in my brain.  I don’t know if I’ll back track or not, we’ll see what time, electricity and internet allow. 

I left off at “And now there’s Four,” that was before Zeke was even 1 month old.  Now he’s pushing 9 months; pulling up on everything and blabbering lots (though right now he’s miserably sick and just doing a lot of clinging to Mama).   

His first two teeth have come through, and started to make their appearance right around Thanksgiving.   Life with four has been incredibly stretching for me.  Most days I feel like I can’t do the minimum of life’s demands, let alone anything extra.  Thanksgiving was quickly growing all consuming; what yummy goodies would I make out of how many substitution ingredients?  Oh and of course create a Thanksgiving focused lesson or 2 for homeschool.  But with this baby I’ve learned new culture things.  

 If Aobistani culture does anything really well (and they do many things well) they celebrate it up when it comes to stages of life.  My personal opinion is that’s because of such high infant mortality.  Babies cut there tooth here and you make a special kind of Osh using wheat berries and deliver it to all your neighbors and relatives.  I had set in my heart I wanted to do it; wanted to take this opportunity to lean in and be more like those that live around me.   Of course I resolved to do so, before I knew he would cut his teeth around Thanksgiving.  When I shared with my teammates that this was something I wanted to do, I was reminded that “it will probably mean more to you that you do it like them, than it will mean to them” and it really was true. 

Thursday we had a wonderful all day Thanksgiving celebration with our American friends.  Sorry no pictures to prove it.  And Friday, we served up and delivered the Osh.  But the Osh was much more of a process than I would have anticipated.  It took us, Auntie (our new house worker) and me, all week to prepare it.  But it was such a great process for me.  Through each step of the process, God had little messages for my heart.  

This is Auntie

First we picked through the wheat, slowly examining one handful at a time for rocks or stray lentils.  These 8 months, with 4 young kids have provided ample opportunity for God to pick through my heart and character, removing rocks and stray bad attitudes all along the way.  Day two, we ground and washed the wheat. We ground the 4.5 pounds of wheat by hand in a mortar and pestle ¼ cup at a time.  Around a table cloth on the floor, Auntie and I (with Elli and Elias occasionally pitching in) separated the husks off the wheat.  Hours later, with sore hands, we washed the wheat and placed it on the same cloth in front of a heater to slowly dry.  In retrospect, with a little space and time, I’m so grateful to God for His loving attentive sanctification of me in this season.  There is a lot more of “this season” of small children to go, but over the mortal and pestle He spoke sweetly to my heart of His desire to use these hard days, these stretching days to remove the bitter husks on my heart.  Day three, Thanksgiving afternoon, my teammates helped me on the second round of grinding; taking the dry wheat berries one more time through the mortar and pestle to remove more of the remaining husks.  We talked, washed dishes and ground wheat. 

 
Friday morning we lit the fire by 8:30 a.m., cause we had to cook it in a large pot for hours and hours. 

Potatoes, carrots, onions, 1.5 kg of beef, a liter of oil, and a lot of water.  What you gain in the wheat you lose in the oil.  By around 2 p.m. the osh was ready to serve and deliver.  

Oh how flattering all the layers of winter dressing are.  I swear, I'm not quite this hourglass in form! :)

I quickly carried it, large plate by plate, to my surrounding neighbors; up the road to Ethan’s teacher and school director; Austin delivered by vehicle to those who lived further away.  Though the greetings were short and the plate of hot osh was quickly passed, in my heart I celebrated.  God has faithfully brought me this far!  My neighbors know; they heard Zeke’s middle of the night screaming fits when his guts hurt so bad and there was nothing I could do to help him.  They know how many party invitations I’ve passed on because I have little ones at home and can’t attend.  Ethan’s teacher and director have experienced firsthand all my cultural blunders, the various times Ethan arrives at school unaware of what he was supposed to have or wear.  His mama’s been stretched thin.  My dear friends and teammates have listened to my heart pourings and have seen the struggle and labor of it all.  They have loved and walked with me.  Yet, He is so faithful and what He has begun in me, He will complete.  Even in the hardness of it, may I see His tender touch at work in me!