February 21, 2011

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  We’re home from Belize.

   

  The fire is cozy and I feel content. 

   

  I’m grateful that I’m not sitting on a crowded airplane trying to keep a travel weary baby quiet by feeding her mints.

   

  This morning we traded the flip flops for tights and shoes because we were off to church in the great white north.

   

  The laundry piles are huge.

   

  And as usual after a trip I am struck anew with the fact that I’m responsible for  cooking three meals a day for this household.

                           

  Added to the usual catching-up-after-being-away is the slew of great posts that I missed on Xanga and Facebook.  How difficult we make life for ourselves sometimes.  I probably won’t try the catch up.  I am sad that I missed all the good stuff that you wrote.  Sorry if I missed your birthday.

   

  I kept meaning to take a quick walk down the white-maul streets of Carmelita last week and post a bit from the Lanza house, where they have high speed wireless internet.  But there wasn’t a spare moment between visiting and washing and ironing and visiting and shopping and visiting.

   

  

   

  It was chilly and rainy over the only weekend we were there.  Hence the jackets on these fine people.

  

   

  

  

   

   

  It was wonderful.  Really.  There are things about Belize that never change.  The smell. The sunshine.  The rice and beans and chicken.  The warmth of friends.   The huge part that laundry plays in life there.  The slower pace.  The speed bumps.  The Creole.  The ants.  The fans.   The hammocks.  The buses.

   

  

   

  OK.  I’ll stop now.

   

  I miss it all.

   

  I don’t really have the words to tell you about our time there.

   

  And we didn’t get very many good pictures.  I hate to be conspicuous with a camera.  I have some seriously special friends there who are camera shy.  I’m usually too busy talking to take pictures.  But now I’m sad that I missed the opportunities.

   

  The stay was too short.  The fellowship was sweet.  Friends provided us with a van to drive while there, a cell phone, and a house to ourselves.  That made us feel like royalty.  The house was a God-send.  It took away that worry that our big family would be overwhelming someone.  We ate a lot of meals with friends and the rare times when we were at “home” were great opportunities to catch our breaths before going out again.  Best of all, it was the house we lived in for six months before returning to Canada, so it was familiar and homey to us.  The couple living in it presently had to go to the US and it just happened to be empty.

   

  

   

  The older children went to school and loved it.  They easily got reacquainted with their old friends and made new ones.  They’d come home for lunch hot and sunburned, scarf down their food, and rush away again to play or ‘go buy’ at the shop, where Mexican Takis chips that burn your mouth were the big hit.

   

  

  We took in Caye Caulker one day, where the turquoise water reached into the depths of my beauty starved soul.  The sun-baked American skin we saw there did not have the same effect.  We had great fun watching sharks and sting rays from our glass-bottomed boat.  The more adventurous of us snorkeled too. 

   

  

   

   

   

  

  No time for romantic beach shots.  Here we are at the end of a long day on the water.

   

  The little guys were not quite as enthralled with Belize as the rest of us.  The heat and the scratching of ant and mosquito bites and the sandals that rubbed and the constant running around made for some negative drama.  But they made out okay and had good times too.

   

  The traveling was the horror of the package.

   

  Mostly because my baby is high strung and not as well trained as she should be.  And everyone’s nerves are on edge when we’re trying to stay together and pull carry-on luggage and make close flight connections.  And any kind of travel with a family of 8 is no picnic.

   

  It was stressful to try to keep Liesl’s legs from bumping the seat in front of us after the lady in it turned around and asked me if I could please keep my daughter’s feet away from her seat back.  Talk about 3 hours of tension.  (And please tell me how you keep baby feet from knocking the seat in front of them in a crowded airplane.)  Liesl is not a good eater and I resorted to feeding her the things she will eat without complaining to keep her quiet.  Like candy.  With juice to drink on the side.  Imagine the sugar overload.  No wonder she wouldn’t sleep and acted like a caged tiger half the time.

   

  Then there was the time on our final flight when Andre declared loudly (over and over) that he had to pee Really Bad but we couldn’t take him because the plane was getting ready for take-off and we were all supposed to be in our seats with our seatbelts securely fastened.  Never mind that we sat there for 20 minutes before moving an inch.  I prayed hard that no puddle would appear and tried to keep him distracted by looking at the Sky Mall magazine where we could buy the Always Cool Pillow for $69.95 or the Indoor Dog Restroom for $99.95.  I thought fleetingly of buying The Head Spa Massager for $49.95—“healthier stress relief.  Alleviates stress & tension.  Relaxes away migraines and more, without drugs.  Soothes your problems away.” (If I ever took the time to learn how to link posts I would link a hilarious one here written by Andrea at writersblock02 who gave a commentary on Sky Mall offers.)

   

  I should have purchased it.  I still have a tension headache from lugging bags and babies and worrying about my airplane neighbors.

   

  But we made it.  Thank You, Lord.

   

  And we’d do it again next month.  Well, maybe not the packing and flying.

   

  I’m finishing this up on Monday morning after the older children were herded off to school laden with books and skates and gloves and Belize chips and pepper sweets for their classmates.  While the Littles play with forgotten toys and the washer swishes recado-stained clothes and the dryer tries to revive limp wrinkled pieces that were packed into suitcases.

   

  Someday I should write about our two years in Belize and the decision of whether to stay and pastor the church in Carmelita or come home to our little church at Bay Tree.  The decision so agonizing that we asked for a public lot to decide it.

   

  The lot fell to come back to the North.  Which is why I take solitary walks on cold quiet roads instead of hailing my village friends on the hot white streets of Carmelita.

   

  Which explains why a piece of our hearts stayed in the Caribbean. 

   

  I love this big land where I grew up.  I love its tough and independent people and even its huge diesel pickups.  Right now I know it’s where God wants us to be.

   

  But how can a heart be stretched to reach across two vastly different cultures and stay intact?

   

   

  I have tendencies to become too emotionally attached to people and places.  Maybe it’s insecurity or something.  I don’t know.  It would sound nicer described as loyalty.

   

  I get attached to my online friends too.  Even ones that I don’t know in real life.

   

  The other week when I was really busy getting ready for our trip and didn’t have much time for Facebook and Xanga I came to this realization:  I really don’t owe anyone anything on here.  Because my insecure/loyal self can feel like I owe comments and affirmation and all manner of good things and then I feel frustration and guilt when I can’t reach around to give it.

   

  Actually, what I do owe everyone is love.  And because love is usually spelled out in words to me that’s the way I want to give it to others.

   

   

  The other thing I realized was this:   I am not indispensable.  People function quite well without me in their online lives.

   

  Because I have got to find a new balance.  I have babies in dire need of post-trip training.  This house needs to be dejunked in a bad, bad way.  I am tired of functioning in a necessities-only mode.

   

  As usual, it’s going to take the grace of God and some heavy discipline on my part to prioritize my time.   I would love to hear how you long time bloggers balance this part of your life.

   

  And this post puts closure on tripping and my whirling thoughts on blogging and the whole social networking business.  The laundry is calling my name.  Loud and clear.

  • 4:04 pm
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