Well, here we are at another Sabbath, a day I always look forward to despite the long meetings in a language I can‘t understand. Something about getting up with the sun, showering and shaving, playing some music…the relaxed routine has always quieted me. I can’t say it was like that when I was a child. What I remember, especially in my teen years, was a bit later mornings, thus a rush to get out the door on time. I guess it was in academy that Sabbath took on such a golden hue, probably because I had never been so busy and church was only a walk away, so why hurry?

This week was full of challenges with self. I find myself wondering why our lives are so stateside-like, comfortable and routine. But then, when I look back, I see all the lessons God sent my way during the week. The lessons weren’t about suffering hunger or fleeing a war-torn valley; they were about putting up with no water for one morning and braving an unflushing toilet, getting frustrated at Adam’s forgetfulness. The problems were so normal that I didn’t recognize in them their true grandeur. They were opportunities to trust in God. I failed to remember that God has promised a way out of every temptation, including internal ones. That way out, at least in this case, meant self-sacrifice and surrender, two actions that I find distasteful when what I’m really hungry for is self-pity and justification. Why does it feel so good to be mad? God has a daunting task with me. I am embarrassed to posit that I am such a baby that my lessons are so mundane, but it’s the truth. Maybe once one learns the key of trust at the minutest level the larger scale problems are easily unlocked. Sometimes it’s easier to trust when life and death are directly in front of you. With the small stuff, we are too blind to realize that life and death are still in the balance, maybe in more profound ways. God, help me to see the stark reality of every decision. I want to be ready for You, not just your glorious appearing where everything will be crystal clear, but for those murky moments, even now, when You need earthly help, loyal help.

This week Adam and I, paper and pen in hand, trudged from door to door to see if there were any willing cooks able to feed us supper. Since we don’t live in the houses, we don’t get as much interaction with the kids or the amount of language learning that we want. At Mami Yani’s advice, we decided that eating suppers at the houses would give us both of these as well as one more: a free meal, home-cooked. There is a sense of adventure in this new schedule. You never know what you will be eating.

Tortillas and beans are the staples here, but we’ve been amazed at the variety of things these Mamis can produce with corn, especially. Tamales de maiz or elote, elote pancakes, café…Another staple is leche (milk). They always serve it hot or warm. Sometimes it’s flavored with corn café, dulce de panela (a sugar cane derivative that is hard and comes wrapped in corn shucks), or canela (cinnamon). It’s always delicious despite the oddity of having a hot drink in a tropical climate.

For my Bodega order this week, I bought a coco, better known as coconut. It came already shelled but not yet opened. Adam chopped it open, releasing its nutritious water, while I looked for a grater. The mountain of shavings I made was beautiful, white and fluffy. I love coconut. This mountain later became a key ingredient in granola. We were a little surprised to find that granola is well known here. Supposedly the mamis make it, although I’ve not had any yet. Next week, we hope to try our hand at making coconut milk. We’ll see.