A few years ago, while taking photos amid the husky gray light of wildfires in California, my wise and dear friend Gene told me about the afterglow… it’s the clandestine light cast after the setting sun sinks below the horizon. Many photographers make the mistake of capturing the sunset, and walking away. But the veterans know if you wait just a few minutes longer, the sky erupts again, with light reflecting through a new prism of colored clouds that’s often more spectacular than the first. But the key is… one must wait for the afterglow.
Perhaps I’m in the afterglow of my time here in Indonesia. The brightly-lit busyness of the first few months segwayed into what at times felt like the darkness of the past few weeks. But now, now the light is peaking through again, and I’m waiting and watching as beautiful hues reform against the clouds.
On my last blog my sister Angie gave me what I felt like was Divine Permission to write about boring things. Because, yes, I often do feel like things are monotonous and that I’ve transplanted myself into the eastern hemisphere yet still have an office job. It’s excruciating at times. But it’s all part of it, and that part I know I haven’t written very much about, for obvious reasons. So, be forewarned, that what follows will likely not be inspirational or exciting, but it’s still… me.
I have the Yellow Palace to myself tonight and am sitting outside on the porch enjoying the cacophony of insects and our orange kitty who probably thought we’d abandoned him. My housemates are still in Medan at a team training that I bailed out of early today because work duties lured me back. I went there on Saturday, and since it’s third or so largest city in Indonesia, there was actually stuff to do… and a Starbucks. I helped with set up and then participated in what was and is a week of programmatic and strategic planning jibber jabber that in many ways was… fascinating. It stirred in me the reoccurring realization that I really do miss being in school. When one gets excited to talk about qualitative and quantitative analysis, there’s certain to be a problem… Problem. Now that starts with a “p” which makes me think of Ph.d… oh, one day, one day...
Anyway, it was good, interesting and a lot of togetherness. Sometimes I feel like my world exists only of these 15 or so people! But I had some good food in the evenings and a nice shower and squishy bed in the hotel, did some shopping and oh, had a semi-disastrous salon experience…
My hair has gotten long, really long for me in recent years, and though I’d decided to let it grow so I could continue wearing it in a ponytail 24/7, what I really needed was a color. My once-lovely highlights had grown out halfway down my head, and well, the gray was showing. So, to simplify things, I decided to ask for just one color and get it all dyed back my natural color – medium brown. Pretty straightforward, I thought, and easy to communicate with a book of samples to point to and a colleague there translating for me. But oh no, it wasn’t simple at all.
Suffice it to say, two hours later, after having my hair methodically painted with some substance that smelled suspiciously like bleach and watching my hairline underneath become a dark shade of orange, the hair was washed, the towel removed and as I saw it unveiled in the mirror all I could say was, “Oh my god!”
And so now, my hair is far, far from a nice shade of “medium brown.” It’s more like an orangey-reddish sorta brown that glows much more vividly in the front than in the back. But I guess that “simple” request was much like many things in my life the past few months… it was Lost in Translation.
The adventures large and small, trivial and significant, never seem to stop.
Speaking of, I’m going to India later this month and am absolutely thrilled. We have “R & R” every few months that’s basically just a free week off, implemented because there were so many people way too stressed out that never could tear themselves away from work. But I will indeed be exiting Indonesia, and what better place to go than somewhere I’ve wanted to see for as long as I can remember… and now it’s only a short plane flight (or two) away! My dear friend Jennifer (aka The Cowgirl) is coming from D.C. to meet me in Delhi, so not only do I get to traipse through a new country, I get to journey with someone I love and adore and have missed terribly. It will be amazing!
Work-wise, I’m organizing an event for Monday with one of our big partner organizations (working again with the guy who I met within my first few weeks here who was the veteran journalist I thought could be a mentor). One of the housing sites we’re funding through them is finished so we’re doing an “Opening Ceremony” where we’ll hand over keys to the families moving in, have the big wigs speak, and hopefully have some media come out, too, to spread the good news. I’ve gone through every back alley way I know trying to get the Aceh governor to come, and right now it’s looking like the Southern Charm may just have prevailed in Indonesia again… Will let you know how it all goes, so just say a prayer for us Monday morning (Sunday night there) that it all comes together. There are many, many loose ends left to tie up which is why I’m back in Banda from the training earlier than everyone else…
And this event honoring and celebrating the 42 persevering families who will at last have a home to call their own again is just one sliver of light of the Afterglow shining on me in Aceh. My head is so full of ideas that I’ve only partially begun to get down on paper, and hopefully, in the coming weeks will be able to get it all formed into a strategic communication plan for our program here. I want to do and leave something that’s sustainable… long after my journey here has ended. There are lots of people that need to hear from us, and most of all, the people we’re trying to help. And uncovering and understanding the best means through which to do that is a challenge in and of its self… But I’m putting together the pieces of the puzzle, which will likely form a blank canvas to then create upon. Endless possibilities are slightly scary, but mostly… exciting.
I read something today that really moved me and is a link I wanted to share. It was an article from MSF/Doctors Without Borders and described the 10 most underreported humanitarian stories in the world today. Scrolling through line of line of text reawakened a profound awareness of the Reality of the world we live in, and was a good dose of, well, Reality…. Having been mentally wandering through the ups and downs of day to day trying to figure out, carve or create a place and role for myself here, I had forgotten about so much… and even so much of what was happening not too long ago in the community I’m immersed in – civil conflict, people dying of diseases completely curable in the Western world – it’s taking place somewhere in the world every single minute. And I share this not to depress you, but to reawaken you, because maybe you need it like I did… and because we can’t help solve problems that we chose to ignore. Awareness equals Action… and I believe we are all Called To Make Difference.
With love and prayers from Banda,
bonnie jean
13 comments:
What a pleasant surprise it was to wake up this morning and find a new post from Bonnie!!!
This "afterglow" post was very uplifting... especially the part where you described the "orangey-reddish sorta brown that glows much more vividly in the front than in the back."
HA HA HA HA HA
I'm not laughing at you; I'm laughing with you. What a hysterical story... alas, with such a traumatic ending!
I enjoyed the post.
Love,
Ang
I failed to mention that I can't wait to see the afterglow photos from the beauty salon...
sorry to disappoint, ang, but there will be NO visual record of my hair this color! just use your imagination... :) people tell me it looks good, but i think i'm still in shock and they're just being nice!
Forget Angie's comments. She's just jealous about your orange hair. I can remember one time when I decide to have my hair "frosted" (that was the word we used WAYYYYYYY back then). I went to Danny Switzer who is one of the best hairdressers around. After several minutes under the dryer, he pulled my cap off. I knew immediately we had a problem when his mouth fell open, his eyes popped out, and he turned deadly pale. I looked in the mirror and sure enough, I had neon orange stripes! After everything was over, I was a beautiful (snicker) blond. My mom actually loved it. It was one of the longest six months of my life trying to grow the color off. Now I'm just a natural gray!
Earlier this week, I scrolled through your pictures. My heart just broke. As I was looking through them, Kinney, my boss, came through and stopped to look. Even he was touched. My favorite is the picture of the lady holding her child. Their faces reflect the pain they have gone through.
I guess I have gone long enough. I love you and continue to pray for you.
Love,
Sherry
A few minutes ago when Dad came home for lunch, I was just chuckling with him about your funny hair story.
Can you imagine what Mommy would have to say about your orange hair???
She is probably flipping over in her grave as we speak...
You might consider checking in with the beautician just in case she has had any mysterious writing on her mirrors that say, "What did you do to my baby's hair?!?!"
hee hee hee
We love you, Bon, no matter what color your hair!!! Enjoyed the funny story! Have you seen Angie's blog from today? She's got a funny too.
No news really at our place. Unless you count MEASLES (!??!) Sierra had what we think was measles last week, but thankfully is well this week, and Daniel didn't catch the strange stuff. Dane has one more month of work with HMG and is counting his days down. They have purchased land for the new evdeavor, and have plans on paper for the new clinic, with building potentially complete by the end of April. Concidering doing the triathlon again this April with same friends from church; therefore, been exercising more, so my mental/emotional health is improving. (Improved physical health is only a secondary benefit!)
When in the India trip? Hope you have a wonderful time. Be safe and take care of yourself. Probably should have E-mailed all this trivial info... anyway.
Love you bunches,
Cris
I am really not anonymous, I just don't have an account with this site. This is Jeff, yes the one from C'dale, from many, many years ago. You remember from when we were really young. Greg showed me this while we were at work and I had to drop in a note to say hello and that what you are doing seems amazing. I will take the time and read some of your past adventures, hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself.
An old friend,
Jeff
As I stood and admired God's wonderful world
As a garden of beautiful plots.
I said,"Father, where would you have me to work?
Just assign me some nice little spot."
Then He turned my attention to a corner of weeds
And, He said,"You can tend that for me."
And I said," Oh, Lord, not that overgrown acre.
There's nothing but briars and weeds. "
In a rose garden maybe, or a lilac lagoon
I will labor til life's race is run.
But don't put me out in some lowly ravine
Where nobody can see what I've done.
"Why people will laugh, Lord, they'll call me a fool.
They'll say this work can't be of you.
I'd much rather work in a vineyard
With folks who'll appreciate all that I do.
"Lord, I'd work and I'd toil if I had fertile soil
I would plow, I would plant and I'd seed.
For, I do want to serve in the garden of life.
But, Lord, not in an old plot of weeds."
Then I lifted my eyes to the eyes of the Lord,
And the love and compassion was plain
With infinite tenderness, He took me aside,
And gently to me He explained:
"Child, not all of my garden is level and smooth.
Many places are rugged and rough.
And some must be willing to work without praise
And to serve where the going is tough. "
And, I have chosen for you this one special task
And it's not just an old plot of weeds;
For my people are there in oppression and fear
And your efforts can help fill their needs."
He said," Aren't you willing to suffer a little bit for me
After I suffered so much for you?
Would you be so ungrateful that you would recoil
From the work that I've asked you to do?"
Then He said, "Little one, get your hoe and your plow
And go on to your garden of weeds.
Don't worry about people and what they might say.
Are you working for them or for me?"
So, I made up my mind I would give it my best
For I knew when the work had begun;
That God would send others to lighten the load
And together we’d get the job done.
And when the last harvest is finally in,
If we've worked in the sunshine and rain;
Together we'll stand at the end of the way
And we'll see what our labor has gained.
No, a garden of weeds full of thistles and thorns
Would hardly be anyone's choice.
But to work for the Lord without hope of reward
Brings contentment and cause to rejoice.
So, if you are hoeing and plowing today
Where the ground seems unyielding and bare;
Child of God, don't look back but just keep pushing on
If you know he has stationed you there.
And here is the way you can know, day by day,
That you're in the right place when you spot it;
You may grow weary and tired in God's way,
But you will never grow tired OF it.
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me to meeeee
Bring back
Bring back
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to meeeee
hee hee hee
I don't know why I haven't thought to sing this to you before. Hope you enjoyed the tune.
Have a good day.
Hi Bon!
I'm so glad to hear from you--thanks for sending me this link. I have so enjoyed reading your blogs and viewing your pictures. I just started reading the archives, so I've got a lot of catching up to do. I'm so proud you for the wonderful work you are doing. You are also a truly gifted writer and photographer. Thanks for keeping me in the loop! My kids are getting so big! Mimi is seventeen months now--she looks just like me! Drake and Jess are five months old--Drake is 16lb 6oz, and Jess is 14lb 4oz. I think they'll be a football player and a soccer player, respectively. Please keep in touch--send me a personal e-mail anytime (although I know that is something you are hard pressed for--time!) Love always, Suanne
Hey Bonnie, loved the update and the blogs from the other fans as well. :) sorry I have no witty banter at this time, I"m up to my browline in wedding video's and TV shows for the folks in Austria. Just wanted you to know I read the post, 'njoyed it!
Much love from Cali!
Twelve years pass. I finally find you. You're in Indonesia. Oh well,I always have had great timing.
I'm really proud of you, Bon. I wish I knew more about your life, but I do know you're as beautiful as ever. Great Luck to you in your journeys. We've come a long way from the Fire Escape.
I can't wait to talk to you.
Love Ya,
Kimmi W. (D.M.F.J.C.--MSMS)
You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you want to
see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any you've ever
heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A trumpet? A choir? A
choir of trumpets? You don't know, but you want to know. So you pull over,
get out of your car, and look up.
As you do, you see you aren't the only curious one. The roadside has become
a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky.
Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League baseball
game across the street has come to a halt. Players and parents are searching
the clouds.
And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.
As if the sky were a curtain, the drapes of the atmosphere part. A brilliant
light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None. From whence came
the light begins to tumble a river of color-spiking crystals of every hue
ever seen and a million more never seen. Riding on the flow is an endless
fleet of angels.
They pass through the curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every
square inch of the sky. North. South. East. West. Thousands of silvery wings
rise and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear
the cherubim and seraphim chanting, "Holy, holy, holy."
The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded elders
and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship. Presently the
movement stops and the trumpets are silent, leaving only the triumphant
triplet: "Holy, holy, holy." Between each word is a pause. With each word, a
profound reverence. You hear your voice join in the chorus. You don't know
why you say the words, but you know you must.
Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you turn,
the entire world turns-and there he is. Jesus. Through waves of light you
see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a great stallion,
and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens his mouth, and you are
surrounded by his declaration: "I am the Alpha and the Omega."
The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And before you
is a figure so consuming that you know, instantly you know: Nothing else
matters. Forget stock markets and school reports. Sales meetings and
football games. Nothing is newsworthy. All that mattered, matters no more,
for Christ has come.
Post a Comment