tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4075040087180394152024-03-13T08:52:02.859-07:00rebecca.mcneil.smithRebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-79739934473662826762012-05-07T16:14:00.001-07:002012-05-07T16:18:57.849-07:00a new spaceI know. It's been over a year. Shame. Nursing school came to an end last week, thanks be to God. Oh, and I got married in March. I'm sure I could have made more time to have blogged during this process, but I just couldn't find the necessity in publishing stories of catheters, IVs, etc. However, my husband, Andrew, and I are living in a groovy 1954 Airstream and are about to depart for an extended honeymoon to Nepal. Back to see the kids and mountains. However, since I am no longer Rebecca McNeil Smith and since I have a very clever, well-written husband, we have decided to make a space for our shared interests...the first being traveling! Please start following <a href="http://www.andrewandrebecca.wordpress.com/">www.andrewandrebecca.wordpress.com</a> for new adventures.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-40008044469313717202011-04-28T07:39:00.000-07:002011-04-28T18:13:42.577-07:00some sunshine<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The week following Holy Week has been one filled with tornado sirens making us uneasy here in Memphis, while actual twisters are waltzing their way all over the country. Folks say that water will rise 11 feet over the flood line by the Mississippi and Wolf Rivers which may make Harbor Town a pile of mush--all just a year behind the actuality in Nashville. Oh and then there was Chernobyl's 25th anniversary just 2 days ago which reminds me of radiation gone wrong in Japan. Goodness, it can be so easy to be overwhelmed by devastation and potential devastation</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">...and so it is that I read this prayer this morning:</span></span></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Lord, we pray we never find ourselves without hope, without a glimpse of the empty tomb each time we happen upon a cross. Help us begin our daily journey expecting both crosses and empty tombs and rejoicing when we encounter either because we know you are with us." </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: left;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">So since I've been absent since...December...I give you some of those empty tombs throughout the past six months:</span></span></span><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m8jdu4qiONg/Tbl9fcruL7I/AAAAAAAAA1k/qyrkzI4OZJ4/s320/DSC_0165.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600645590840913842" /></div><div>birthday slumber party with Kristen and some of our favorite neighbors...</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0rCmveJ0Ehw/Tbl9f6LkSnI/AAAAAAAAA1s/VyyqhGg0dr8/s320/DSC_0174.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600645598759111282" /></div><div>the first of many snow days...</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-laUA_VeGtYE/Tbl9gER0qvI/AAAAAAAAA18/sYu8zcgZseY/s320/DSC_0184.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600645601469704946" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4161QuWSMPA/Tbl9f3dB4-I/AAAAAAAAA10/-jO2sXA0NaQ/s320/DSC_0178.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600645598027047906" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OMHRr4uhJ80/TboNkcVAvVI/AAAAAAAAA2c/PHsvnswmV8U/s320/DSC_0212.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600804006319406418" /></div><div>and then spring and green things started to grow...</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bxWYyRxPNPc/TboNjkUwRbI/AAAAAAAAA2E/mcwSKIQOWj4/s320/DSC_0188.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600803991285941682" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bUz0J7nTGWg/TboNkOnQP3I/AAAAAAAAA2U/7_i01Wg-MG4/s320/DSC_0199.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600804002637823858" /></div><div>and the ladies kept on producing...</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-paQcpNj8C3s/TboNj9BtnFI/AAAAAAAAA2M/4MDW8KG0_k4/s320/DSC_0198.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600803997916961874" /></div><div>-------------------------------------------------</div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PrIE2cWPSTw/Tbl9fF_NuMI/AAAAAAAAA1c/jQyTW0u6w2s/s1600/_008093.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PrIE2cWPSTw/Tbl9fF_NuMI/AAAAAAAAA1c/jQyTW0u6w2s/s320/_008093.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600645584748656834" /></a></div><div>oh...and this handsome man (with that handsome airstream)</div><div> is moving to Memphis in just a few weeks!! woot!</div>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-23238421428178417532010-12-09T06:24:00.000-08:002010-12-09T06:29:26.774-08:00journey of the magi<pre><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(This poem still enchants me...especially now. <br />Thank you, T.S., for encouraging my imagination)<br /><br />by T.S. Eliot<br /><br />A cold coming we had of it,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Just the worst time of the year</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For a journey, and such a long journey:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The ways deep and the weather sharp,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The very dead of winter.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Lying down in the melting snow.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There were times when we regretted</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And the silken girls bringing sherbet.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then the camel men cursing and grumbling</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And the villages dirty and charging high prices:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A hard time we had of it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">At the end we preferred to travel all night,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sleeping in snatches,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With the voices singing in our ears, saying</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That this was all folly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And three trees on the low sky,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And feet kicking the empty wineskins.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But there was no information, and so we continued</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">All this was a long time ago, I remember,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And I would do it again, but set down</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This set down</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This: were we led all that way for</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But had thought they were different; this Birth was</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">With an alien people clutching their gods.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I should be glad of another death.</span><br /></pre>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-3601586175825034202010-10-23T12:42:00.000-07:002010-10-23T12:58:55.059-07:00elizabeth cateMy niece was born this morning at 3:45am. I suggested the name Luna considering that it was a full moon and all, but they didn't exactly go for that. Pretty sure that's what I'm calling her...She's perfect and looks a lot like Levi did when he was born (minus the red hair). I was able to be in the delivery room while my superstar sister gave birth drug-free, and as lil Luna (see, it's starting already) began crowning, we immediately knew that she was continuing the strong feminine black headedness of our family. My dearest pals Catherine and Pete are giving birth any day now (I really wanted their little girl to get here today as well...two Lunas...let's just make it as confusing as possible...but it looks like she's holding off for the moment) so these days are filled with nursing school, walks in autumn woods, and babies!! It's been my most chaotic, joyful fall in a very long time. Praise God for life....<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9BXSynQI/AAAAAAAAA0o/MLzB_zMUmfs/s1600/DSC_0070.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9BXSynQI/AAAAAAAAA0o/MLzB_zMUmfs/s320/DSC_0070.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531331860983094530" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9BAo9zPI/AAAAAAAAA0g/O3lchUHgpMQ/s1600/DSC_0072.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9BAo9zPI/AAAAAAAAA0g/O3lchUHgpMQ/s320/DSC_0072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531331854902086898" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9AwSTRxI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/UujCFoWI5x4/s1600/DSC_0073.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9AwSTRxI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/UujCFoWI5x4/s320/DSC_0073.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531331850512058130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9ADaFttI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/mmogN6wIO2w/s1600/DSC_0074.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9ADaFttI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/mmogN6wIO2w/s320/DSC_0074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531331838465128146" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9_wJri8I/AAAAAAAAA1A/I53tcrUiUkg/s1600/DSC_0065.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9_wJri8I/AAAAAAAAA1A/I53tcrUiUkg/s320/DSC_0065.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531332932807658434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9_UsPnYI/AAAAAAAAA04/whv4Dbyeeh4/s1600/DSC_0066.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9_UsPnYI/AAAAAAAAA04/whv4Dbyeeh4/s320/DSC_0066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531332925436435842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9-gpSkYI/AAAAAAAAA0w/0c_Ie_rUS10/s1600/DSC_0082.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TMM9-gpSkYI/AAAAAAAAA0w/0c_Ie_rUS10/s320/DSC_0082.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531332911465402754" border="0" /></a>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-87525667357306566432010-08-15T07:45:00.000-07:002010-09-02T08:54:54.175-07:00a triple divideTriple Divide Peak, located in Glacier National Park, has the unique distinction of being an apex for three oceans. Here, the Hudson Bay Divide and Continental Divide collide designating its peak as the source for three of North America's great rivers: the Mississippi, Columbia and Saskatchewan Rivers. Precipitation that falls northeast of the mountain follows a network of veined rivers (including Sask) to the Arctic Ocean in the Hudson Bay. Rain falling west of the Continental Divide makes its way to the Pacific via the Columbia, and that running to the south takes a long journey from the Missouri River to the Mississippi to the ultimate destination of the Atlantic in the Gulf of Mexico.<br /><br />I have yet to climb this mountain or even walk through the pass (though many of my friends have conquered such a feat), but its story has always fascinated me and made me that much more fond of the mountains nestled in Glacier. Perhaps it's because I recognize a similar story within myself. At this point in my life, I am aware of three great locations that have garnered great affection in my heart for somewhat completely different reasons. When emotions or ideas or desires enter my heart, it's most likely that they travel to three different destinations: Nepal, Tennessee or Glacier. Just as the three destinations of Triple Divide's precipitation vary in climate, location, and culture, so the greatest recipients of my affection seem to differ far more than they relate.<br /><br />Whether it is the children at Harka in Bharatpur, Nepal, the trails and mountains in Glacier, or the communities resting in the urban cultures of Memphis and Nashville, my heart is equally committed to these destinations for the means in which they quench my spirit. I am thankful for the myriad of ways my story has been shaped and impassioned by each one.<br /><br />My July writings were entirely consumed by the children at Harka, the photos following are testimony to Glacier and the Canadian Rockies where I spent the first three weeks in August with my folks, and presently I am in Memphis...once again. It is here that I will, by God's grace, become a nurse. (I don't exactly know how often I'll be able to write considering that I am already overwhelmed and just started University of Memphis' nursing program last week.)<br /><br />And so it is that I have been so sweetly reminded of my three great loves and the ways in which my heart yearns for each.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbmpzXW22I/AAAAAAAAAz4/WR-BIr36Kbw/s1600/DSC_0958.JPG"><img style="width: 210px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509844799971580770" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbmpzXW22I/AAAAAAAAAz4/WR-BIr36Kbw/s320/DSC_0958.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Morraine Lake, Banff National Park, Alberta<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbmpcss0ZI/AAAAAAAAAzw/4vJfejkVpd0/s1600/DSC_1015.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509844793887084946" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbmpcss0ZI/AAAAAAAAAzw/4vJfejkVpd0/s320/DSC_1015.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Canadian Pacific Railway in Yoho National Park, British Columbia<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_YG9e5bI/AAAAAAAAAyo/c8ktfucowUg/s1600/DSC_1069.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505649859134154162" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_YG9e5bI/AAAAAAAAAyo/c8ktfucowUg/s320/DSC_1069.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />View of Lake O'Hara from the Alpine Circuit, Yoho<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_X115KZI/AAAAAAAAAyg/y_eU7TQeyC4/s1600/DSC_1070.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505649854538918290" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_X115KZI/AAAAAAAAAyg/y_eU7TQeyC4/s320/DSC_1070.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />What a camera can do while balancing on loose rock<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_XaejpEI/AAAAAAAAAyY/vm7h6B8fpWE/s1600/DSC_1092.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505649847193281602" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_XaejpEI/AAAAAAAAAyY/vm7h6B8fpWE/s320/DSC_1092.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />It takes ten years for this flower to blossom and another 100 years to grow the size of a dinner plate. Watch where you hike, indeed.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_W66FMbI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/mio8WkPhphs/s1600/DSC_1035.JPG"><img style="width: 214px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505649838718792114" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TGf_W66FMbI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/mio8WkPhphs/s320/DSC_1035.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Still Lake O'Hara<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbkqkJuiKI/AAAAAAAAAzo/sQq748in-Tw/s1600/DSC_1154.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509842614044493986" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbkqkJuiKI/AAAAAAAAAzo/sQq748in-Tw/s320/DSC_1154.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Dr. Seuss characters<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TH_IWe2NuMI/AAAAAAAAA0A/ofJu2SNC8ZM/s1600/DSC_1278.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TH_IWe2NuMI/AAAAAAAAA0A/ofJu2SNC8ZM/s320/DSC_1278.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512344757487909058" border="0" /></a><br />On the shore of Athabasca River in Jasper National Park<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbkp3wIsQI/AAAAAAAAAzg/el9fXUaqVYc/s1600/DSC_1286.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509842602125996290" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbkp3wIsQI/AAAAAAAAAzg/el9fXUaqVYc/s320/DSC_1286.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Lake Peyto, Banff<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiKSgvjfI/AAAAAAAAAzA/scZumihTHFs/s1600/DSC_1318.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509839860530122226" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiKSgvjfI/AAAAAAAAAzA/scZumihTHFs/s320/DSC_1318.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />View of Grinnell Glacier from part of Mt. Gould<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiJqaABZI/AAAAAAAAAy4/zk9n87as6i8/s1600/DSC_1367.JPG"><img style="width: 214px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509839849764423058" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiJqaABZI/AAAAAAAAAy4/zk9n87as6i8/s320/DSC_1367.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The glacier up close...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiJAZEe3I/AAAAAAAAAyw/buCfSQUhQ44/s1600/DSC_1365.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509839838486231922" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiJAZEe3I/AAAAAAAAAyw/buCfSQUhQ44/s320/DSC_1365.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Ptarmigans<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbkpUvFrvI/AAAAAAAAAzY/Hey2jn6FiX0/s1600/DSC_0037.JPG"><img style="width: 320px; height: 214px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509842592726363890" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbkpUvFrvI/AAAAAAAAAzY/Hey2jn6FiX0/s320/DSC_0037.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Down from Ptarmigan Tunnel<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiKiTt3uI/AAAAAAAAAzI/4PwQ0-pYYaw/s1600/DSC_0097.JPG"><img style="width: 214px; height: 320px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509839864770453218" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/THbiKiTt3uI/AAAAAAAAAzI/4PwQ0-pYYaw/s320/DSC_0097.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />The greatest place in the States: Polebridge, MontanaRebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-12991362144383307202010-08-07T07:55:00.000-07:002010-08-07T08:46:26.265-07:00"when i get older"My sweetest friend, Bintu, introduced me to K'naan, a Somali/Canadian hiphop artist, just weeks before my trip to Nepal. I immediately fell in love with his music and carried that love to the kids at Harka. His song, "Wavin' Flag" was the theme for the World Cup and just happened to be the kids' favorite as well. Below are two pieces of proof to their dedication to this song...they definitely knew the chorus by day three. Hilarious.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyMLGjW2vhFnGwIJhhW80rC6wYQ3zpEREz8QpTJMANZO0PRJzDiR3ZaRKIYgch1fh19KzE2K1Bav6La4_9-VA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dymSBz9M4VJwEirEXsPyM3HODxc-5eok5-55nyCgidEUihjX4eqmssqiH3buqZTjO2oMXFazxDA3B1Txqr7EA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-67566718422040281062010-07-30T03:57:00.000-07:002010-08-26T20:29:42.734-07:00in memoriamMy grandmother, Jane Weaver Nall, passed away two days ago. It is with a great hope that I believe she is at rest and has seen the promised land.<br /><br />(a short reflection):<br /><br />Childhood slumber parties with Nannie and Dappie were always filled with certain expectations. <span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1280487549_1">King's Corner</span> would be played, <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1280487549_2">Lawrence Welk</span></span> would be watched, <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1280487549_3">ice cream</span> would be offered so that Nannie would feel that much more justified in satisfying her sweettooth, and Nannie's warm bed and presence would comfort me to sleep through the night.<br /><br />It wouldn't be until the following morning, however, that my child-like anticipation would be fulfilled: toast with butter and jelly, eggs, cereal, fruit, orange juice, milk, and water. Perhaps it was because Pop Tarts were my usual morning staple or maybe it was that three glasses to drink from felt satisfyingly indulgent--either way, breakfasts with my grandmother will always be a treasure of my memory.<br /><br />I am thankful that she slapped too much butter on bread and that she scrambled eggs to perfection. I'm thankful that she taught us <span style="border-bottom: 2px dotted rgb(54, 99, 136); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1280487549_4">Southern hospitality</span> as if she had lived in the South her whole life. I'm thankful that she wrote letters by hand until she could no longer. I'm thankful that my grandmother's memory covered a century. I'm thankful for her loyalty and discipline. I'm thankful that her eyes were open to the light and life of Christ, and that such grace has permeated through her veins and into the hearts of her family.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-26230527473595466452010-07-29T07:54:00.000-07:002010-07-29T08:02:20.645-07:00sima and soniya: progression part deux<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGXER5_IUI/AAAAAAAAAuY/eff9cAh74Dg/s1600/DSC_0278.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGXER5_IUI/AAAAAAAAAuY/eff9cAh74Dg/s320/DSC_0278.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499342719777972546" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGXE-s1QVI/AAAAAAAAAug/7mh75cFQgoU/s1600/DSC_0279.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGXE-s1QVI/AAAAAAAAAug/7mh75cFQgoU/s320/DSC_0279.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499342731802394962" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGXFdBFb2I/AAAAAAAAAuo/xjTyuqiTEQM/s1600/DSC_0280.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGXFdBFb2I/AAAAAAAAAuo/xjTyuqiTEQM/s320/DSC_0280.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499342739940405090" border="0" /></a>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-81780329941409794332010-07-29T05:18:00.000-07:002010-07-29T05:33:03.478-07:00tulie: a progression of sorts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0cndvmhI/AAAAAAAAArw/qVX-nEhZjGg/s1600/DSC_0484.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0cndvmhI/AAAAAAAAArw/qVX-nEhZjGg/s320/DSC_0484.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499304654974982674" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0cwZX7CI/AAAAAAAAAr4/eTpnrSLShAc/s1600/DSC_0485.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0cwZX7CI/AAAAAAAAAr4/eTpnrSLShAc/s320/DSC_0485.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499304657372572706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0dW_XYmI/AAAAAAAAAsA/JP2Bt5IS0qA/s1600/DSC_0486.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0dW_XYmI/AAAAAAAAAsA/JP2Bt5IS0qA/s320/DSC_0486.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499304667732468322" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0eBO95rI/AAAAAAAAAsI/8QI7Dj_dV3c/s1600/DSC_0488.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFF0eBO95rI/AAAAAAAAAsI/8QI7Dj_dV3c/s320/DSC_0488.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499304679072196274" border="0" /></a>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-73010196537120624932010-07-26T12:38:00.000-07:002010-07-26T13:12:08.594-07:00photos..I'm back in the States drinking coffee to survive the 50 hour traveling weekend that ended late last night. In the midst of spending my last days in Nashville, I took a couple hours in my favorite coffee house to upload some photographs. Here are a few favorites...I plan to add to the previous blogs accordingly and in due time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pIbO6HAI/AAAAAAAAArA/4KfDm2rSyEo/s1600/DSC_0425.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pIbO6HAI/AAAAAAAAArA/4KfDm2rSyEo/s320/DSC_0425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498307051047754754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rMNNLYwI/AAAAAAAAArg/yE1gvMEeqEo/s1600/DSC_0619.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rMNNLYwI/AAAAAAAAArg/yE1gvMEeqEo/s320/DSC_0619.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498309315025134338" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rKiHjswI/AAAAAAAAArI/IdQbQj0Gh68/s1600/DSC_0454.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rKiHjswI/AAAAAAAAArI/IdQbQj0Gh68/s320/DSC_0454.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498309286278968066" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pGTx1wzI/AAAAAAAAAqg/onIBgDJnNW0/s1600/DSC_0285.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pGTx1wzI/AAAAAAAAAqg/onIBgDJnNW0/s320/DSC_0285.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498307014687048498" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rMosupQI/AAAAAAAAAro/JdGTXTV7qQE/s1600/DSC_0598.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rMosupQI/AAAAAAAAAro/JdGTXTV7qQE/s320/DSC_0598.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498309322405225730" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rLPErbUI/AAAAAAAAArQ/a0-vh9Kd4ec/s1600/DSC_0488.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rLPErbUI/AAAAAAAAArQ/a0-vh9Kd4ec/s320/DSC_0488.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498309298346487106" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pHiGNNzI/AAAAAAAAAq4/KxV0xHyVup4/s1600/DSC_0415.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pHiGNNzI/AAAAAAAAAq4/KxV0xHyVup4/s320/DSC_0415.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498307035710437170" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pG4s8kNI/AAAAAAAAAqo/58zSHuQyhrI/s1600/DSC_0346.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pG4s8kNI/AAAAAAAAAqo/58zSHuQyhrI/s320/DSC_0346.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498307024598634706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rLpuvl5I/AAAAAAAAArY/SAteZGvKZ4M/s1600/DSC_0515.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3rLpuvl5I/AAAAAAAAArY/SAteZGvKZ4M/s320/DSC_0515.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498309305502242706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pHUR3YbI/AAAAAAAAAqw/hxElkh31nGw/s1600/DSC_0360.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3pHUR3YbI/AAAAAAAAAqw/hxElkh31nGw/s320/DSC_0360.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498307032001241522" border="0" /></a>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-80062445913242209082010-07-22T23:08:00.000-07:002010-08-02T19:56:32.046-07:00sweet rememberIn the past two years Britta and I have received occasional packages from Harka chock full of drawings from the young ones and letters from the older children. As you can imagine, each parcel comes to us as such a surprise and delight. And, inevitably, one of the older children writes a note and the other three or four copy it word for word. The one phrase that has always been more humorous than others is their opening line, "Sweet Remember". It has perplexed me where they heard or conjured up such a statement in the constant game of translation. It came as even more of a surprise when they had no idea what "I miss you" meant. The definition of 'miss' to them was a foreign woman's title. Becca Miss, Birta Reecha Miss...what have you. And then a week or so ago a began to realize that Soniya and Shishir (again, Secil) were continuing an old conversation. "You go America, don't forget me". Don't forget me. Sweet remember.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i9fclrxI/AAAAAAAAAqI/MHpcAnNuqDw/s1600/DSC_0732.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i9fclrxI/AAAAAAAAAqI/MHpcAnNuqDw/s320/DSC_0732.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498300266130550546" border="0" /></a><br />It seems that our English translation of missing, I miss you, etc. does lack the ability to speak so candidly. Really, at the core, all of us want to be remembered. We want to be known, and continue to be known. Don't forget me. It seems a bit vulnerable, perhaps, to admit such desire, but I believe that any person's heart, no matter how free of need, does long for at least one other person to remember them.<br /><br />It is with great humility (through a greater grace) that I recognize how much children in general, these children specifically, have taught my prideful spirit. With their limited skills for communicating in English and their cultural upbringing that encourages a more stoic form of relationships, these kids desperately desire to be remembered as they, indeed, remember me. My goodness, what an absolute gift it is to know love.<br /><br />And so it is that the last few days with the children were filled with a few uncommon adventures and a majority of ordinary ones. I took the older children to internet on two separate days. They wrote Britta an email, looked up photos on my past blog, saw a picture of my jeep, made sure they were updated on WWE action (the 24-hour wrestling channel has been cancelled in the Nepalese jungle...don't you worry though, these kids have plenty of Nepali and Indian sitcoms/soap operas to occupy their fascination) and other random delights that the internet provides.<br /><br />At the last minute, I was granted permission to tour the Coca Cola Factory (one of two in Nepal) that is located a few miles from the orphan home. Apparently, they only open tours for very special occasions...being from the West entitles you to far too much here. Unfortunately, however, the little kids couldn't come with me. So Manish, Buddhi, Sirjana, Soniya, Sima, Bishal and I walked our way to free Coke (Buddhi and Bishal definitely had three bottles) and a view of how a factory operates that exclusively produces glass bottled Coca Cola products. Two women have the sole purpose of washing every single bottle by hand.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i8-ZPcRI/AAAAAAAAAqA/R33HiIB8x7Q/s1600/DSC_0643.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i8-ZPcRI/AAAAAAAAAqA/R33HiIB8x7Q/s320/DSC_0643.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498300257258139922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />To satisfy the sulking spirits of the young ones (they definitely thought the older kids were getting spoiled at this point), I bought a few large Fantas and Sprite for our last dinner together. Hearing 10 young voices whisper, "Miss, Fanta?" is just about the greatest thing. We danced and threw the frog beanies my sisters and I made for them (I had already sewn five of them back together after 12 hours of action).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeEFeiwrBI/AAAAAAAAAuw/LdZqGHPyRvY/s1600/DSC_0630.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeEFeiwrBI/AAAAAAAAAuw/LdZqGHPyRvY/s320/DSC_0630.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501010699489422354" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeEGV2efoI/AAAAAAAAAvA/maZ_slOook8/s1600/DSC_0635.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeEGV2efoI/AAAAAAAAAvA/maZ_slOook8/s320/DSC_0635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501010714336067202" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeEFxz1RoI/AAAAAAAAAu4/_Z0qx2K5ahs/s1600/DSC_0633.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeEFxz1RoI/AAAAAAAAAu4/_Z0qx2K5ahs/s320/DSC_0633.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501010704661300866" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Shishir told me that he wants to be a bus driver in America. So I told him that if he gets over there then he's staying with me. Not bluffin. Soniya and Sima kept having to be reassured that I was going to come back after I was finished with school, and Bishal completely and overtly avoided me for the last 24 hours I was there. Tulie started crying when I picked up my bags to head out and I subsequently became a big ole puddle of mess myself. Sweet remember.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i9vAWtSI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/VHN2wyCX8HM/s1600/DSC_0735.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i9vAWtSI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/VHN2wyCX8HM/s320/DSC_0735.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498300270307095842" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i-K_qxVI/AAAAAAAAAqY/gn-bqJwxqn0/s1600/DSC_0738.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TE3i-K_qxVI/AAAAAAAAAqY/gn-bqJwxqn0/s320/DSC_0738.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498300277820409170" border="0" /></a><br />The saving grace of such a difficult departure has been company I've met along the way to Pokhara. I shared a bus with a Dutch med student, an Austrian who currently lives in Vienna, and two Texans from Austin. The immediate connections created between travelers is always so refreshing, and considering the fact that I hadn't had a long conversation in several weeks, I was in the mood for meeting interesting folks. We have shared meals and beers and conversation for the past few days.<br /><br />Dominique, the 20 year old Dutch girl who is in her 5th year of medical school (you do the math...she's ridiculous) has been in Northern Nepal for the past few weeks doing medical research with the cases of Nepalese women that suffer from prolapse. She goes into rural villages with an interpreter to do examinations, make records for future funded operations, and inform women in small ways that they can be more aware of their health. I love the Dutch (still glad Spain won), and have greatly enjoyed Dominique's company the past few days. In fact, she came with me to visit Guru, a friend of mine and Britta's from two years ago, who is now working at a fancy hotel in Pokhara and got married one month ago! We had coffee and tea and were allowed to swim in the fancypants hotel's pool!! Whoot. Then Dominique and I were invited to Guru's apartment to have dinner with he and his new wife. She is adorable and reserved and still getting used to being away from her family and married (culturally, arranged marriages happen very quickly...Guru met and married Meera within three days). So I can see where the new lifestyle takes a while to get used to.<br /><br />I depart tomorrow for another long weekend of flights. I just bought a traditional Nepalese hand drum that I'll be taking on the plane with me. Either I'll be seen as a crazy hippie in the Abu Dhabi airport or Larry Mullen Jr. will be on my same flight and teach me a few things. Here's hoping for the latter.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-2621737991700597962010-07-17T22:40:00.000-07:002010-08-07T14:00:04.276-07:00sunshine faceI feel that I have done a poor job introducing the newest members of Harka's family. As Britta and I discovered our first time here, it takes a while to observe well, and by no means do I suggest that two weeks could suffice. That being said, here's a peek into (perhaps a breath of) their stories.<br /><br />You have read of Kanchi, the 21-year-0ld young mother of 4-year-old Sanju, recently divorced and lover of pretty things. They have only been at Harka for about a month now, and it seems that she has settled in with much ease--naturally taking to the older girls as an older sister herself, and vigorously working to clean and cook as if she is trying to earn her keep...or prove her gratitude. She remains a little fascinated by me considering the fact that I am the only Westerner she's ever actually lived with--I've come to the conclusion that I'm her very own American Girl Doll. Pre-packaged with the promise to decorate as she sees fit.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3JLdk8SYI/AAAAAAAAAwY/lQAbSYyWHWc/s1600/DSCN1407.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3JLdk8SYI/AAAAAAAAAwY/lQAbSYyWHWc/s320/DSCN1407.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502775518471932290" border="0" /></a><br />(post makeover)<br /><br />This is all made more humorous by the fact that she doesn't know a lick of English and I have a good 28 words of Nepalese. After the red henna in the hair (that lasted all but 4 days), she moved on to decorate my hand with henna. I finally stopped her when she wanted to cut my armhair.<br /><br />Sanju is your average 4-year-old boy with crazy bursts of energy and emotion. He plays hard and well with Tulie and Jamuna with the habit of trying to get away with pinching or hitting...he is still trying to balance the concept of being his mother's child along with 15 others.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFePGNdhePI/AAAAAAAAAvw/opWMZB3cvtk/s1600/DSC_0635.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFePGNdhePI/AAAAAAAAAvw/opWMZB3cvtk/s320/DSC_0635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501022806711826674" border="0" /></a><br />(Sanju on left and Mikreecha on right)<br /><br />Mikreecha, the new house parent's (Sita and Minude) 3-year-old daughter, suffers from the same affection issue. Instead of pinching, however, she just continues to breastfeed (which if I was a baby, lacked any other milk source, and was the youngest of a whole host of children wanting my mother's attention, I would most likely do the same thing).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeIRipXCSI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/8MasYPf5MTQ/s1600/DSC_0282.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeIRipXCSI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/8MasYPf5MTQ/s320/DSC_0282.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501015304795785506" border="0" /></a><br />Oh my goodness, I love these house parents sooo much more than I did Kumari and Prim. Minude's lack of English and absenteeism (besides the rice working days) has kept a pretty good distance between us, but he is good-natured and as far as I can tell does a good job balancing goofiness and discipline with the children. Sita, I love. She has worked very hard to make her English conversational, and so with my 28 or so words and her slightly more skillful tongue, we can understand each other and laugh and connect. She is 22 years old and about 4'8, but has this giant personality. She and Kanchi not only proved to work constantly while planting rice, but she has also shown herself to keep the rooms and clothes clean while maintaining something burning over a fire. There is no doubt, however, that she is saved by the working force of all the kids. They (mostly) delight in their chores which require several hours of patient focus and diligent work. Such a cycle keeps the small housefarm going.<br /><br />Suman and Sujan are only the second biological siblings that have entered the mix--the others being the unlikely twinship of Jamuna and Ganga.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeIShVtXsI/AAAAAAAAAvg/K-syTEqKpu4/s1600/DSC_0566.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeIShVtXsI/AAAAAAAAAvg/K-syTEqKpu4/s320/DSC_0566.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501015321624796866" border="0" /></a><br />(Sujan on left, Suman on right)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeIRBuTHGI/AAAAAAAAAvI/_iFSjJp2ytg/s1600/DSC_0187.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeIRBuTHGI/AAAAAAAAAvI/_iFSjJp2ytg/s320/DSC_0187.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501015295958129762" border="0" /></a><br />Suman is a possible 5 years old to his older brother's 7. They have recently come to Harka under unknown circumstances other than they had no other place to go. I have enjoyed getting to know them. They are both mostly reserved, quiet, observant boys who seem to be waiting to fit into this family of sorts. Susanne, by nature, has more confidence and has found it a bit more natural to know his place. Since school has been out, he follows Ganga, Shishir (editor's note: this has been Secil's name all along...it just sounds much more like a 'Secil' that I didn't realize my inaccuracy until recently) and Bishal to the jungle to be with and direct the set of four goats that the orphan home owns. He takes great pride in these daily adventures as if he's learning a trade or finding a purpose. Suman, with his head slightly always pointed toward the ground and with a constant flow of mucus from his nostrils, sometimes willingly hangs in the corner waiting or wondering of inclusion. Then Ashish will burst forth with the command of a child who was raised in these walls, clasp Suman's hand and bring him to the divine imagination playgroup of the small, less industrious ones. Suman willingly enters and participates. Both of these boys have been the most frugal with my gifts thus far (they also are getting used to such an American). With both the bubbles and the clay, these two have held on to every ounce of soap and color granted them until a very deliberate, chosen moment. Waste not. It's as if they have a more recent, keen awareness of how quickly things can cease to be.<br /><br />Finally, there is the 11-year-old Bishal (pronounced Bee-sawl). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeISCDkT7I/AAAAAAAAAvY/CkBLp_P2JDk/s1600/DSC_0503.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeISCDkT7I/AAAAAAAAAvY/CkBLp_P2JDk/s320/DSC_0503.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501015313227206578" border="0" /></a><br />He has actually been living at Harka for the past year and a half but is new to me...and goodness, I have a great love for him already. Unlike the more stoic Manish and more introverted Buddhi whose personalities lay dormant for a few days only to shine like the sun when you least expect it, Bishal is pretty much always sunshine. If I didn't know better, I would swear that he and Sima were born from the same woman. He is endlessly being clever and asking questions, proving that he pretty much has the best English out of everyone. Friday was the last official day of classes and as I held the girls' hands and more and more children continued to stare at me, Manish and Buddhi were no where to be found, but there was Bishal who deliberately came to me with his best friends in order to introduce me. He is quick to help nurture the young ones not unlike Soniya (helping with homework and reading) and jumps at the second he's asked to do any small task along with his daily goat duties. He and Sima have also managed to memorize the chorus and some verses to K'naan's "Wavin Flag". Sunshine.<br /><br />I hope to take all 16 different rays of such bright delight with me to the Coca Cola Factory down the road this afternoon. I think they have to wear hairnets.<br /><br />My time at Harka ends this Wednesday morning when I will be off to Pokhara for a few days. But until next time, I will leave with a favorite quote from Wendell Berry's <em>Jayber Crow</em>:<br /><br />"For love is always more than a little strange here. It is not explainable or even justifiable. It is itself the justifier. We do not make it. If it did not happen to us, we could not imagine it."Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-28792813014635102682010-07-14T22:27:00.000-07:002010-08-02T21:15:38.402-07:00solar power surpriseOne of the things that I can say for sure is that I have no idea what's going to happen any given day at the orphan home. Sometimes things come as surprises to the children and houseparents as well, but mostly it is my inability to know the Nepalese language. The unknown while in a foreign country or situation can be unsettling, but for me it is part of the greatness of staying at Harka.<br /><br />Just a few days ago, for instance, a man came by asking if he could give any haircuts. Being set more or less on the back roads of the nearest village, salesmen will come by with vegetables, fruit, umbrellas, or some kitchenware for a more door-to-door convenience. This man came by with a skill. Laxmi had, the day before, asked if I would give a handful of the children haircuts so without Britta's natural gift to concede to, I concured. This godsend of a man swept in just in time to save the eczema and lice-ridden heads of Ashish, Jamuna, Ganga, and Manesa from my unsteady hand. In less than 10 minutes and for less than $1, all four children were fresh and clean and giddy from being in the spotlight. Perhaps this barber's presence was even more significant to me because I am currently in the middle of reading Wendell Berry's <em>Jayber Crow</em>. Jayber is a barber, and if you've read his story then he has certainly become a good friend. This man made me think of my friend.<br /><br />And yesterday, the children and I were fightin the sweat on a rather uncomfortable afternoon when within a matter of 30 minutes a whole host of things started movin and shakin. I mostly just sat on the bench with <em>J Crow </em>in hand, trying to make sense of such synchronism. First, there were four men working in the rice fields who came onto our property for some water and shade. They looked at me with such conviction and wonderment...I smiled and looked into my book or held a child.<br /><br />Moments after their arrival, Sita told me to take the bicycle to the end of the road where I was to meet Laxmi and the 'solar men'. Now this is when I realize I don't have a clue what's going on. After going with Lax to the market on two separate days to withdraw money that so many friends and family had given me to give to Harka, Laxmi didn't exactly communicate that the solar panel system was going to be installed--immediately. I shouldn't exactly be surprised, but considering the culture in which I was born and bred, things depictly take time. Here in Bharatpur, two young guys equipped with Japanese solar panels, electrical wire, one converter and two enormous batteries began their work.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUtvsB4gI/AAAAAAAAAv4/NE9kkoWbKhg/s1600/DSCN1497.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUtvsB4gI/AAAAAAAAAv4/NE9kkoWbKhg/s320/DSCN1497.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501028983472513538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUuVPkaKI/AAAAAAAAAwA/BjxHctmpx74/s1600/DSCN1517.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUuVPkaKI/AAAAAAAAAwA/BjxHctmpx74/s320/DSCN1517.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501028993553688738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUuvWeozI/AAAAAAAAAwI/STNmvuxbDLk/s1600/DSCN1519.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUuvWeozI/AAAAAAAAAwI/STNmvuxbDLk/s320/DSCN1519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501029000561992498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUvHWsFNI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/9hiXwbDoUuA/s1600/DSCN1531.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFeUvHWsFNI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/9hiXwbDoUuA/s320/DSCN1531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501029007005324498" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Laxmi was busy (she is rarely anything but) with the kids or the solar men or the rice men when another guy hops off his motorcycle. Apparently, he was in the neighborhood to impregnate our cow with an armful of injections. The children were having a heyday at this point with so many people and excitement. I typically enjoy the stillness that is everything save the kids' chaos, but today I was particularly thrilled about the solar being installed. Talk about money being put to use. By that night we were the only home within our peripheral that had electricity. There was a sense of pride in the kids and for me knowing that the eight young ones who squish together in one large bed would have a fan working against the heat tonight.<br /><br />So thank you to all who gave money to this project...Laxmi has been mentioning it since Britta and I were here over two years ago. I speak on behalf of the adults and snotty children when I say that everyone is grateful for your generosity.<br /><br />A few days ago Kanchi took my makeover one step further and added red henna in my hair...I'm about to have Sita put it back to black. I can only take so much crazy.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-12138989350560350602010-07-12T21:18:00.000-07:002010-08-07T14:27:37.716-07:00no healthcare reform neededIn preparation for this month's stay in Nepal, I gradually collected a small pharmacy that would ward off certain unwanted microbes, ease the annoyance of bugs, and allievate any allergic reaction--all packed neatly into my luggage. My previous experience in Nepal plus my knowledge of the climate and region prepared me for just about everything except, oh, dysentery. I may have spent four months traveling all over this country and eating all kinds of food, but give me not even a week this go around and I'm bed-ridden.<br /><br />The morning after we spent the day composting the rice plots, Sita (house mother), Kanchi (house auntie), Laxmi (Harka director), and I spent hours picking short blades of bright-almost lime-green grass that carried rice in their roots. We tied them with longer blades picked from the jungle and set them aside to be planted the following day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGBI1SgPcI/AAAAAAAAAsg/6DEHrZEi5l0/s1600/DSC_0415.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGBI1SgPcI/AAAAAAAAAsg/6DEHrZEi5l0/s320/DSC_0415.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499318608739712450" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sitting on stools with back bent and feet snug in mud, we picked and bundled and repeated just as the rest of the land was being plowed, prepared, bundled, or planted by other workers...a new reality of community farming for me. It was my hope to participate in some of the rice planting that many 'men' were coming to do on Sunday. Of course these 'men' turned out to be 14 of the hardest working women I had ever seen, which, unfortunately, I didn't see much of because I was back-broke with a crazy little fever at that point.<br /><br />Picking the rice seeds was my final point of participation before I started feeling the affects of what would be the worst infection I've had to date. The fever kept me from seeing my beloved Diego Forlan lose to Germany (but win the Golden Ball!) and saw that a busy Laxmi was simultaneously planting rice, feeding 30 people, and caring for me all on Sunday. And I mean caring me. I don't know how many cold wet rags she sloshed on my body begging for the fever to go...oh, she also fanned me when the electricity went off, washed my dirty clothes, and cleaned my room. Caregiver. The occasional ray of sanity came when I would look up from my bed to see about seven small children packed at either the open door or windows whispering, "Miss okay?" Thankfully by that night my fever had broken, but the toilet issues remained the same.<br /><br />Since I didn't have the energy or social desire to go down the street to watch the finals, Sita allowed me to sleep in the room with a small television (which hasn't been used yet because of the kids' exams). I set my alarm for 12:15am, and woke up half delirious, half exhilirated. By 3am I was exhausted and still exhilirated for my (yes, all these men have become personal possessives) Spaniards...especially the likes of Sergio Ramas and Iker Casillas...had finally scored in the 117th minute to beat Holland!<br /><br />The following morning when my colon was still ridiculous after 3 days, I knew it was time for the hospital. You have the emergency room aspect of the hospital (including an "Emergency Operation Theatre") and then you just have the doctor visit wing. In less than 25 minutes I had met with a very kind, English speaking, intelligent doctor who wrote me a prescription for both an amoebicidal drug and an antibiotic to cover my bases of a protozoan or bacterial source. Laxmi and I went across the street to purchase the meds and later yesterday afternoon I already felt loads better. Doctor visit: 25 cents. Drugs: $3.50. I love Nepalese health care.<br /><br />[I feel like I'm collecting hospital visits like some folks collect baseball cards or small spoons.]<br /><br />Besides staying away from certain fruits that I was tempted by and being hesitate to even brush my teeth in the well water, you can see how my past few days have been spent. Not exactly how I was planning time with the kids. Today was their last day of exams so I think we may blow bubbles as a form of celebration.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3Narda8rI/AAAAAAAAAww/7RxTmn1_dNY/s1600/DSC_0542.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3Narda8rI/AAAAAAAAAww/7RxTmn1_dNY/s320/DSC_0542.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502780177943032498" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3NaASuEYI/AAAAAAAAAwo/AxX51bXG0jQ/s1600/DSC_0523.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3NaASuEYI/AAAAAAAAAwo/AxX51bXG0jQ/s320/DSC_0523.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502780166355423618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3NbFdqmOI/AAAAAAAAAw4/e1_AmzfWYbw/s1600/DSC_0543.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3NbFdqmOI/AAAAAAAAAw4/e1_AmzfWYbw/s320/DSC_0543.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502780184923379938" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3NZgxG8fI/AAAAAAAAAwg/CBhLPRPfM-4/s1600/DSC_0519.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3NZgxG8fI/AAAAAAAAAwg/CBhLPRPfM-4/s320/DSC_0519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502780157892948466" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Oh, and to sign off, I will share the kiddos' answers to, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"<br /><br />Jamuna: Teacher<br />Tulie: Doctor<br />Manessa: Nurse<br />Susan: Pilot<br />Suman: Pilot<br />Ashish: Pilot (but as he specified with one hand shooting straight in the air, "Rocket")<br />Soniya: Singer<br />Bisal: Engineer<br />Buddi: Scientist<br />(I have to ask a few of the older ones still...Manish was currently undecided)<br /><br />But my favorite two were...<br />Ganga: Police(wo)man (sooo perfect)<br />Secil: BusdriverRebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-50999469579321916612010-07-08T22:08:00.000-07:002010-07-29T07:53:02.029-07:00a different kind of compostNot only was I almost run off the road by a water buffalo while riding my bike to internet, but I followed my agile dodging act by breaking the bike. Well, the chain came off. As I was trying to fix this mishap to no avail two Nepali guys came up with a little English and the skills I lacked. Their efforts saw me safely to the computer center where Bryan Adams is playing an acoustic live set over the speakers: "When you love someone/You'll do anything/You'll do all the crazy things that you can't explain/You'll shoot the moon/Put out the sun/When you love someone." What a poet.<br /><br />Mind you, this was all in the past twenty minutes.<br /><br />One of my small goals for these few weeks is to gain a bit more tolerance for flies resting on my body. Flies are one of those insects I have little patience with, and here in this heat, they are your closest neighbor. So I keep trying to channel the focused vigilance of Mr. Miyagi. In the meantime I will just continue to sweat. It's the kind of heat that makes you dream of walk-in freezers. Yesterday at the market, I drank a cold Fanta and didn't realize until then how foreign it is for me to eat and drink only hot things when it is, in fact, blazing hot outside. It could be that I'm a spoiled American, or it could be that a cold Fanta is just that good.<br /><br />As I arrived back to the orphan home after writing a few days ago, I was met by Kanchie, the new 21 year old auntie. She had blue nail polish in hand and simply smiled and gestured to my feet. I made mention one of the first days I was here that her and Sirjana's hands and feet looked very nice...I didn't realize that such a statement would land me a full makeover. Oh yes, makeover. From my toes she went on to painting my fingernails (and I mean a more or less flourescent blue) and then after looking at my face she saw that it needed help too. Apparently, my 'no make up' routine in Nepal was not meeting up to her expectations so she delicately applied liquid eye liner (a first for me), some lipstick, and a decorative bindi. This was for no occasion in particular, but certainly made all the kids giggle.<br /><br />I went from overdone to completely immersed in dung...literally.<br /><br />It seems that I have come to Harka at a very useful time. The children have been having their exams all week and into next (they will have a month or two off for the monsoon season) so my English tutoring has been useful for all ages. Just yesterday, Manish taught me how to make candles (I took a photo tutorial that I will try to post once in the States).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJS_SKX1I/AAAAAAAAAso/J3KK6-6_5VI/s1600/DSC_0322.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJS_SKX1I/AAAAAAAAAso/J3KK6-6_5VI/s320/DSC_0322.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499327579314347858" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJTs-NjcI/AAAAAAAAAs4/1SZIAZradOk/s1600/DSC_0326.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJTs-NjcI/AAAAAAAAAs4/1SZIAZradOk/s320/DSC_0326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499327591578701250" border="0" /></a><br />aligning wick with mold<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJTEE6K7I/AAAAAAAAAsw/AAQrICV1X0U/s1600/DSC_0324.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJTEE6K7I/AAAAAAAAAsw/AAQrICV1X0U/s320/DSC_0324.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499327580600937394" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJUMxle8I/AAAAAAAAAtA/nSMpgMMBr_w/s1600/DSC_0328.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJUMxle8I/AAAAAAAAAtA/nSMpgMMBr_w/s320/DSC_0328.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499327600115678146" border="0" /></a><br />boiling wax<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJUpdW9uI/AAAAAAAAAtI/N4neCGPe-jA/s1600/DSC_0331.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGJUpdW9uI/AAAAAAAAAtI/N4neCGPe-jA/s320/DSC_0331.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499327607815468770" border="0" /></a><br />pouring boiling wax into molds<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMgxbuSPI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/MrRglX1ubec/s1600/DSC_0334.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMgxbuSPI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/MrRglX1ubec/s320/DSC_0334.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499331114649405682" border="0" /></a><br />let them cool for twenty minutes<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMhdlC4uI/AAAAAAAAAtY/ydjnk3wjeFU/s1600/DSC_0312.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMhdlC4uI/AAAAAAAAAtY/ydjnk3wjeFU/s320/DSC_0312.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499331126499664610" border="0" /></a><br />pry open the casing and...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMh8trrbI/AAAAAAAAAtg/RkPp4aUjqVI/s1600/DSC_0320.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMh8trrbI/AAAAAAAAAtg/RkPp4aUjqVI/s320/DSC_0320.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499331134857391538" border="0" /></a><br />whalah<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMif98-FI/AAAAAAAAAto/A-qhnxjj64o/s1600/DSC_0352.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMif98-FI/AAAAAAAAAto/A-qhnxjj64o/s320/DSC_0352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499331144320874578" border="0" /></a><br />product<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMiqp1INI/AAAAAAAAAtw/wjvWnGCdbwE/s1600/DSC_0355.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGMiqp1INI/AAAAAAAAAtw/wjvWnGCdbwE/s320/DSC_0355.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499331147189264594" border="0" /></a><br />and packaging<br /><br />We spent hours packing very simple white short sticks that will be sold in the market. During such production we talked about all the boys' supposed girlfriends...Manish has been dating Asmita for more than two years now. I'm glad a 15 year old can have a more stable and long-lasting relationship than myself.<br /><br />But this morning the English and candles were put aside to prepare the four rice plots that Harka cares for at the back of the property. What I have come to realize is that now is the perfect time to prepare and plant for rice season. We are on the crest of rainy season with about 1/3 rain a day so the moisture is just right to be present but not overwhelming. Overwhelming will come in a few weeks. So the older children and I made an assembly line from the base of where our water buffalo, cow and goats live to one of the square plots about 50 yards away. We took buckets, filled them with compost (excrement of the large mammal origin), and sloshed our barefeet to the plot site. Sirjana whined and did very little work while the boys did cartwheels over the barriers and Sima and Soniya continued to throw the buckets everywhere. Perhaps not the most efficient few hours spent. I expect we'll be doing such dirty work (I should get Mike Rowe to come do a <span style="font-style: italic;">Dirty Jobs</span> episode out here in Bharatpur (: ) for the next few days.<br /><br />But before we jumped into the filth, the kids had to take off their new adorable outfits. That's right, after yesterday's headache-producing market trip with Laxmi (love her, she loves the kids, but she can be so overwhelming especially in chaotic settings) I decided to cure my frustration with some mangoes and gift-giving. My friend, Sarah, was so sweet to buy an outfit for every child here at Harka. Seeing as there were 3 boys I didn't know of, I waited until after I bought them clothes at the market to present the goodies to the kids. The older boys were fascinated by the belt that came with the pants, the older girls were satisfyingly scandalized by their cute new shorts (such apparel is usually saved for those Westerners), and the little ones just kept laughing, asking that I take their photo, and mismatching the outfits for the sake of wonderment and good humor.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTlR6zu2I/AAAAAAAAAt4/-Ar40BIW3_0/s1600/DSC_0366.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTlR6zu2I/AAAAAAAAAt4/-Ar40BIW3_0/s320/DSC_0366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499338888670591842" border="0" /></a><br />Tulie was beyond excited<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTlyOA7gI/AAAAAAAAAuA/oMDJFauolpA/s1600/DSC_0375.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTlyOA7gI/AAAAAAAAAuA/oMDJFauolpA/s320/DSC_0375.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499338897341083138" border="0" /></a><br />Bright colors on some beautiful kids!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTm8Yp-uI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/TJ1lUK9uSIE/s1600/DSC_0394.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTm8Yp-uI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/TJ1lUK9uSIE/s320/DSC_0394.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499338917249940194" border="0" /></a><br />Oh the little ones<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTmuHDetI/AAAAAAAAAuI/RmvaUvdk6CA/s1600/DSC_0390.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TFGTmuHDetI/AAAAAAAAAuI/RmvaUvdk6CA/s320/DSC_0390.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499338913418017490" border="0" /></a><br />Sima and Soniya sportin purple<br /><br />By the way, Sarah, they want you to come to Nepal.<br /><br />For any of you who follow the World Cup, you can understand my devastation that my absence from technology comes during the semifinals and finals of the tournament. I had given up all hope that I would see the finals this weekend, until a man from down the street saw me with the kids and started speaking to me in very good English. He has the cutest little daughters and wife, and invited me to watch the games with his family. They will be played at midnight here in Nepal so that will be an adventure all to itself.<br /><br />But for now, well, I'm tired of listening to Bryan Adams. Namaste.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-57929027277974283032010-07-06T22:12:00.000-07:002010-08-07T14:53:55.542-07:00bobble head and silly bandzFingers crossed: not only is this internet speed far superior than that of my memory, but during rainy season the electricity is on much more than the dry months we experienced in Chitwan. But for you and I to trust this as concrete truth, you and I would also have to trust my communication skills in this country...so I'll keep you up to speed in the days ahead.<br /><br />But before we go ahead or even start talking about today (it's either Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday..I can't be sure), I have to back up a few to begin our story. Abu Dhabi, the capital of the United Arab Emirates, was my home for a 20 hour layover. For a while I thought that I would grab a bus to see the fancy oil sites, but it was my good fortune that the Germany/Argentina game began right as I got off the plane from Chicago. So it was there in a Middle Eastern pub that I spent 7 of my 20 hours. I can't imagine a more appropriate location to see the World Cup (I preferred the outcome of the Spain/Paraguay match...as did the Argentinian woman to my left) where I cheered and gasped and drank alongside folks from all over the Middle East, Britain, Germany, and the aforementioned Argentina. Best $10 beer ever.<br /><br />The time did actually come when I left the UAE and climbed aboard a flight to Kathmandu. The airport was chaotic as ever with several taxi drivers trying to vie for my affection..or money..I ended up nice and cozy in my hostel around 10pm Nepali time. Seeing as I am not exactly fond of tourist-central Kathmandu, I wanted to get a bus to Chitwan as soon as I could. So after eating a more than welcoming large breakfast and Nepali coffee I roamed Thamel's streets filled with incense, Nepali music, obnxious salesmen whispering a seductive, "Miss, Tiger Balm?", in my ears, and found Dipendra (contact in KTM). He updated me on a few things Harka-related and told me I could leave in just a few hours. And that's just what I did on the most local bus of my Nepali transportation life. The ride consisted of the four-hour glorious landscape that is Nepal along with sweltering heat, the man next to me falling asleep on my shoulder, and the cute little boy in front of me vomiting everywhere...I just stuck my nose out the window and laughed to myself. It took waving a few extra rupees in front of my young punk of a taxi driver to get him to go down the dirt roads to Harka because there was no way I was dragging my superfluous luggage through such humidity.<br /><br />As soon as I jumped out of the cab I think my excitement numbed the childrens' reactions to a solid, "Hmm, I know this is Becca Miss and we like Becca Miss but her enthusiasm is just a bit much right now" (and if you know me, you know I can be a bit much more often than not). So even though my big hugs and kisses may have paralyzed them for the first hour of my arrival, I was soon peeling their sweaty bodies off my arms and legs. Sirjana told me that I was much taller than before, Soniya let me know that my long hair was much prettier than my short hair, and Sima kept on saying how nice my eyebrows were. Thank goodness my eyebrows have gotten more sophisticated over the past two and a half years. All the kids act like they had never seen my shoulder scar before, rubbing it as if it were one of those golden statues whose big toe was worn green from good luck.<br /><br />If I had changed that much, these kids have changed much more dramatically. Sirjana, Sima and Soniya, the three oldest girls, have also been growing their hair out since Britta and I were here, the second I found Manish he responded, "Namaste, Miss," in this post-puberty deep voice, Secil lost and grew a whole set of teeth, Tulie is no baby, and there are four more boys that I am getting to know: Bishal (11), Ranjit and Sanjit (maybe 6 and 5..brothers who they confusingly call Sujan and Suman, respectively), and Sanju (3 year old to a new 'Auntie' who is 21 years old, and left her husband after a lot of physical abuse). More news about them in days to come...all I know is Bishal is already eat-em-up cute.<br /><br />But as much as the children have physically changed, their personalities are almost completely intact. Manish is still too cool for school 80% of the time, and the sweetest most charming teenager the other 20%. After he called me "Giraffe [Gee-raph]" yesterday I realized that if this boy was 15 years older, 100 more pounds, and just a foot taller, I would pretty much force an arranged marriage. Sirjana is still as girly and Sima is still the cutest of all tomboys (today, she wore a Garfield shirt that said, "It's crude, it's rude...it's my attitude" which is hilarious but couldn't be further from the truth). Soniya is still the nurturer loving and correcting the little ones as if they were her own. Buddi's smile could still save the world (his tee shirt the past few days has been the WWE shirt my mom sent 2 years ago). Secil, oh Secil...good grief, I could still take this child home with me. He and Ashish have been 'sponsored' by previous volunteers to go to private school and it has proved wonders for their English. He's still wearing the shirt he wore everyday years ago when he was 3 inches shorter, still wears his shorts an inch below his buttcrack, still is clever and pure boy, and still is my number one sidekick. Manessa still giggles uncontrollably for no apparent reason, Ganga still looks like Gonzo and is still obsessed with trash (if this child could only be introduced to dumpster diving), Jamuna still thinks I know Nepali, Ashish is a more mature version of his bobble-head wagging, "One minute, Miss" speaking self, and Tulie, though a touch sassier, still has those two deep craters for dimples that bookend the most irresistible smile.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SiM8sz7I/AAAAAAAAAxA/8nhe56tHS6o/s1600/DSC_0198.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SiM8sz7I/AAAAAAAAAxA/8nhe56tHS6o/s320/DSC_0198.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502785804749819826" border="0" /></a><br />Ashish front and center<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3Sjtrw6QI/AAAAAAAAAxY/iQwJgThSWfc/s1600/DSC_0250.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3Sjtrw6QI/AAAAAAAAAxY/iQwJgThSWfc/s320/DSC_0250.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502785830717024514" border="0" /></a><br />Buddhi<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3Ubi9EDlI/AAAAAAAAAyI/iVeIKh54mBw/s1600/DSC_0711.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3Ubi9EDlI/AAAAAAAAAyI/iVeIKh54mBw/s320/DSC_0711.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502787889421094482" border="0" /></a><br />Secil<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UaI3tSlI/AAAAAAAAAxw/xAa6JEJJjxg/s1600/DSCN1463.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UaI3tSlI/AAAAAAAAAxw/xAa6JEJJjxg/s320/DSCN1463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502787865239439954" border="0" /></a><br />Tulie<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SiohEBZI/AAAAAAAAAxI/cwenOb5QCxQ/s1600/DSC_0211.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SiohEBZI/AAAAAAAAAxI/cwenOb5QCxQ/s320/DSC_0211.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502785812150093202" border="0" /></a><br />Jamuna<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SkYlt_RI/AAAAAAAAAxg/Dz22e7Q_ON8/s1600/DSC_0289.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SkYlt_RI/AAAAAAAAAxg/Dz22e7Q_ON8/s320/DSC_0289.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502785842234391826" border="0" /></a><br />Sima and Soniya playin with maize<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SizFpRWI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/xlrk1N3dJxU/s1600/DSC_0215.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3SizFpRWI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/xlrk1N3dJxU/s320/DSC_0215.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502785814987883874" border="0" /></a><br />The 20% of Manish<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UZ491lnI/AAAAAAAAAxo/bgD1_CjoTVI/s1600/DSC_0308.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UZ491lnI/AAAAAAAAAxo/bgD1_CjoTVI/s320/DSC_0308.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502787860970182258" border="0" /></a><br />Sirjana<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UbPg2EtI/AAAAAAAAAyA/a-b8bdO0wNI/s1600/DSCN1596.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UbPg2EtI/AAAAAAAAAyA/a-b8bdO0wNI/s320/DSCN1596.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502787884202463954" border="0" /></a><br />Tulie and Manessa being adorable<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UauYl3xI/AAAAAAAAAx4/NsPk1H9V3wE/s1600/DSC_0708.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TF3UauYl3xI/AAAAAAAAAx4/NsPk1H9V3wE/s320/DSC_0708.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502787875309477650" border="0" /></a><br />Ashish, Secil and Ganga being crazy<br /><br />I spent my first full day peeling and cutting potatoes the size of small stones, walking the kids to school, picking lice out of Jamuna's head, letting the older girls twist my now-long hair into all facets of braids (and most likely putting lice into my head), exploring the jungle (which is more or less the front yard) with the young kids to look for monkeys, feeding the hundreds of catfish in our small pond, and eating dal bhat. The one oppressive difference is this heat. Lawd, lawd...may I never complain about a Tennessee summer again. Sometime yesterday afternoon between the heat, jetlag, and lack of water, I collapsed for a pre-dinner nap. Thankfully Laxmi had dropped off ample water during my slumber and the monsoon season had dropped off a characteric afternoon rain to cool things off for the night time. It seems that the bedroom which was once our sanctuary away from 16 loud children is no sanctuary at all...the outside shade is where the coolness dwells...and so I will dwell with it.<br /><br />Last night we celebrated Sima's 13th birthday so I gave the kids some of the gifts I brought (I decided to delay the giving to make it more managable). I'm not sure if you're familiar with Silly Bandz or Crazy Bracelets or whatever they're called, but they are rubber bands that vary in shape (lady bug, bear, spider, etc), turn into bracelets, and sometimes glow in the dark. They are all the craze in the States so I brought some along with me. Well, the kids were just about obsessed as they dove under beds and into closets to find the darkest location possible in order to prove their claim. Secil would then emerge from underneath the bed, point to his bracelet, and say "Miss, power!!" He then told me this morning that the spider band that he got made him Spiderman...seriously, bringing him home this time.<br /><br />I will be sharing more stories in the next few days, but now I have to return the bike to Manish and wait for Laxmi to see if we're going to the market today...always an adventure.<br /><br />If you're new to these kiddos, feel free to check out the blog I kept while here the first time:<br />www.travelsinnepal.blogspot.com There are some photos to give faces to all these names!Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-7151202972589901522010-07-03T20:59:00.000-07:002010-07-03T21:01:44.050-07:00lightning bugs(written Friday, July 2, 2010)<br /><br />Since early June when the heat forced my small community house to keep the doors and windows open at all times, I would find the occasional company of lightning bugs in my bedroom as I was falling to sleep. Small illuminations from nature came to enchant my dreams and make me grin. Their presence was so infrequent, unexpected, and welcomed that it served as the most beautiful illustration for those glimmering heartbeats of romance as well as for all those moments when home is discovered in the most foreign of circumstances.<br /><br />The Isle of Ometepe, Cafe Hawelka, the taste of gnocchi in Rome, on top of a mountain in Glacier, with the kids at Harka...<br /><br />And so it is that I just watched Uruguay defeat Ghana in dramatic fashion with other travelers outside a sports pub in Chicago O’Hare airport, and carried my anxious energy to Gate M10 where I will depart for Kathmandu via Abu Dhabi. Just as lightning strikes twice and lightning bugs sneak in to give me a giddy sense of peace before sleep, I am able to see the children once again.<br /><br />I am thankful for small wonders and simple promises.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-66798692469032667072010-06-29T09:30:00.000-07:002010-06-29T10:24:52.661-07:00great anticipation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TCof9ZD3vFI/AAAAAAAAAp4/TbDjLCGqghM/s1600/IMG_0203.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TCof9ZD3vFI/AAAAAAAAAp4/TbDjLCGqghM/s320/IMG_0203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488234235463973970" border="0" /></a><br />I purchased malaria medicine that will make my skin sensitive to the sun. So if I come back looking like Tulie's (above photo) older sister (actually, mother..sheesh) blame it on the pharmaceutical company and not my disconcern for my health.<br /><br />Friday afternoon I will depart for the inevitable days of exhausting travel that will land me (by God's good grace) in the hot, humid, bug-invested property of Harka Orphan Home where I will scoop up every hot, humid, bug-invested child and kiss their snotty faces until they push me away. Ahhh, paradise comes in funny packages.<br /><br />And so it is that one large suitcase has been stuffed with outfits that my friend, Sarah, so generously purchased for the kids (photo shoots will be had), world maps given to me by my good friend Tom, an assortment of practical first aid materials, finger puppets, bubbles, clay, bandanas, photos from that time Cedric and I went to WWE Raw (I think I may become a mini celebrity just because I've been in the same arena as some of these kids' heroes), and the 16 beanie frogs that my sisters and I are frantically sewing all for the sake of 16 children loving and beating them to death in the muddy confines of their play world.<br /><br />My hopeful arrival is next Monday where I'll see these munchkins...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TCof81Tw1MI/AAAAAAAAApw/detsF8kEOnQ/s1600/IMG_0299.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TCof81Tw1MI/AAAAAAAAApw/detsF8kEOnQ/s320/IMG_0299.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488234225866953922" border="0" /></a><br />...and be doing a lot of this...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TCof8d8johI/AAAAAAAAApo/UUqZ460lCGk/s1600/IMG_0214.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TCof8d8johI/AAAAAAAAApo/UUqZ460lCGk/s320/IMG_0214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488234219595604498" border="0" /></a><br />Keep an eye open for quite a few stories over the course of July!Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-82963297229235436632010-06-03T07:35:00.000-07:002010-06-03T10:39:32.352-07:00one month......until I leave for Nepal!!! My anticipation is growing by the day, but as usual, I can't even fully realize the fact that I will be with the kiddos in just one month. Whoa. And though excitement runs through my veins back to my heart to give it life at the moment, I can't help but be saddened that Britta won't be with me this go around. It will be strange walking to the village for some cookies and hopeful internet by myself telling the local kids that my name is John Cena. The following are a few favorites from two and half years ago...I can't wait to see how much they've grown.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-xc1aiAI/AAAAAAAAApY/0j3pMb8Ml30/s1600/IMG_2245.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-xc1aiAI/AAAAAAAAApY/0j3pMb8Ml30/s320/IMG_2245.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478557228482594818" border="0" /></a><br />Tulie's steering while Manesa checks herself out in the mirror<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-wuiT0DI/AAAAAAAAApQ/xonaytovbIc/s1600/IMG_2164.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-wuiT0DI/AAAAAAAAApQ/xonaytovbIc/s320/IMG_2164.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478557216054431794" border="0" /></a><br />morning dal bhat before school<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-wC7uUFI/AAAAAAAAApI/aPeUnAFjZoM/s1600/IMG_0053+copy.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-wC7uUFI/AAAAAAAAApI/aPeUnAFjZoM/s320/IMG_0053+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478557204349866066" border="0" /></a><br />the little ones keeping watch over the rice<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-UX_OFBI/AAAAAAAAApA/fKDiSlib0oQ/s1600/IMG_0170.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-UX_OFBI/AAAAAAAAApA/fKDiSlib0oQ/s320/IMG_0170.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478556728965338130" border="0" /></a><br />a northside view of the compound<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-T-vXUaI/AAAAAAAAAo4/T9eN0er7NwQ/s1600/IMG_0098.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-T-vXUaI/AAAAAAAAAo4/T9eN0er7NwQ/s320/IMG_0098.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478556722187948450" border="0" /></a><br />a first bubbles experience as Buddi holds up Ashish<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-TPDE7FI/AAAAAAAAAow/ZsQ9LAu82e4/s1600/IMG_0099.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-TPDE7FI/AAAAAAAAAow/ZsQ9LAu82e4/s320/IMG_0099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478556709385727058" border="0" /></a><br />catching bubbles takes such concentration<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-SpEy3FI/AAAAAAAAAoo/DCK4K65EeLg/s1600/IMG_0338+copy.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-SpEy3FI/AAAAAAAAAoo/DCK4K65EeLg/s320/IMG_0338+copy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478556699192384594" border="0" /></a><br />here's my boy, Manish...his nickname for me was Giraffe<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-R9SwiiI/AAAAAAAAAog/jJ4PqCLGwyM/s1600/IMG_1940.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/TAe-R9SwiiI/AAAAAAAAAog/jJ4PqCLGwyM/s320/IMG_1940.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478556687439792674" border="0" /></a><br />our friends that inhabit the jungles to the south of HarkaRebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-25356416966500135002010-06-01T11:53:00.000-07:002010-06-01T11:59:12.948-07:00a prayer from brother nouwenO Lord, let me praise you, bless you, worship you. So often my prayer turns into introspective ruminations regarding my own confused feelings and emotions. So often I find myself engaged in reciting a litany of self-complaints, or my attention wanders to people and events that inhabit my restless mind. O Lord, why do I keep focusing so much on what separates me from you? You are the source of all goodness, beauty, and love. You have shown me your mercy by coming to me and lifting me up into your own life through the life of your Church. And still I keep living as if the thousand other things that crowd my mind need more attention than you.<br /><br />Help me in this struggle to make you the center of my inner life. Give me the grace of prayer. Show me clearly and convincingly how I am fooling myself, and give me the strength to follow this insight. Most of all, O Lord, let me understand that in and through you all my little concerns will be taken care of. You do not despise my worries, but you do ask me to trust that you will deal with them when I simply keep my eyes on you and your reign. <br /><br />Teach me, O Lord, your way. Amen.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-48272716267928380312010-05-25T08:13:00.000-07:002010-05-25T08:18:55.330-07:00preparationThe gospel, God's free gift of grace in Jesus, only works when we realize we don't have it all together. The same is true for prayer. The very thing we are allergic to--our helplessness--is what makes prayer work. It works because we <span style="font-style: italic;">are</span> helpless. We can't do life on our own.<br /><br />-Paul MillerRebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-52853081169953946052010-05-13T08:17:00.000-07:002010-05-14T07:26:36.069-07:00a garden, baby, some wine and best pals...This April and May have been busybusy. I finished up my last three prerequisite classes before I begin nursing school this fall...Nashville had a flood that brought immense devastation and as Karl, my housemate and patriarch of the <a href="http://www.catholicworker.org/communities/Commdetail.cfm?Community=33">Nashville Greenlands</a> community I live in, so cheekly noted, "I know this flood's caused a lot of hardship, but our asparagus grew two feet!" So while our garden, indeed, has been producing wonderful vegetables, I have continued taking care of the sweetest baby, Eleanor. Seriously, best job I've ever had.<br /><br />Three weeks ago my dearest Britta took the bus down from Chicago to Memphis for some good ole Southern lovin. This is that particular soul friend who I met working at the front desk of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Many_Glacier_Hotel">Many Glacier Hotel</a> in Glacier National Park, Montana, four summers ago. From there, we spent about four months in Nepal the winter/spring of 2008 and a month in Costa Rica/Nicaragua last spring. I flew home to Chicago with Britta after our Central American adventures (<a href="http://rebeccamcneilsmith.blogspot.com/2009_05_01_archive.html">see blog entry</a>), and so this spring she was able to come down south. From bbq to block party, it was such a sweet reunion. Our next time together will be at Many Glacier this summer (she working that front desk and me visiting it)...whoop!<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.djibnet.com/photo/482181533-many-glacier-hotel.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.djibnet.com/photo/many%2Bglacier/many-glacier-hotel-482181533.html&h=355&w=500&sz=144&tbnid=0T-zK5yXgyV8pM:&tbnh=92&tbnw=130&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dmany%2Bglacier%2Bhotel&usg=__5Xe3AT4DMLOpjjVYCPgxBvXI9vQ=&ei=xDjsS72SMNTxlQfi0d2eDw&sa=X&oi=image_result&resnum=5&ct=image&ved=0CDoQ9QEwBA"><br /></a><br />And to make this spring even more delicious, two of my bestest friends AND my oldest sister came in town over the weekend. Mandy is getting married in September and lives in DC, so while she was visiting her sweet mama, us girls in Nashville made it a good excuse to have a casual girls' night out to <a href="http://www.arringtonvineyards.com//index.cfm">Arrington Vineyards</a> where we drank their wine on picnic blankets with pears, cheese, and good conversation...maybe we got giggly. At least that's what the guys who let us do some wine tasting thought...After our silliness had sobered up a bit, we met a few others friends to end out the night. One of those was Jocelyn!! Her brilliant and talented self is getting a PhD at the University of Arkansas, so she rejoiced her finished semester by spending the week here with loads of laughter, good food, dear professors, a younger sister's graduation, and volunteering with all the Flood Relief we got goin on here. Sister Charlotte has known these friends for a good long while as well, and needed a fun weekend away from work--so she shared in all the festivities!<br /><br />Here's to focusing on the good and beautiful...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wsOS0-blI/AAAAAAAAAng/11OwfNo9KeU/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wsOS0-blI/AAAAAAAAAng/11OwfNo9KeU/s320/DSC_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470796271432134226" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdZYlC25I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/4CD_UV24O2Q/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdZYlC25I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/4CD_UV24O2Q/s320/DSC_0019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470779969280072594" border="0" /></a><br />radishes, about a month ago<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wsNu0KodI/AAAAAAAAAnY/kmUh9W6g0jI/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wsNu0KodI/AAAAAAAAAnY/kmUh9W6g0jI/s320/DSC_0025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470796261765063122" border="0" /></a><br />oh goodness, I have LOVED the asparagus we've grown!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdX6HLoAI/AAAAAAAAAnA/zNcW2nZUCMY/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdX6HLoAI/AAAAAAAAAnA/zNcW2nZUCMY/s320/DSC_0022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470779943921885186" border="0" /></a><br />There's all sorts of stuff growing in this photo: blackberries, green onions, beets, black raspberries...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdYm9HSDI/AAAAAAAAAnI/7loT6JxYwks/s1600/DSC_0001.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdYm9HSDI/AAAAAAAAAnI/7loT6JxYwks/s320/DSC_0001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470779955959253042" border="0" /></a><br />chestnut tree<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdXX5MmPI/AAAAAAAAAm4/0mIMZsvV-Ek/s1600/DSC_0037.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdXX5MmPI/AAAAAAAAAm4/0mIMZsvV-Ek/s320/DSC_0037.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470779934736423154" border="0" /></a><br />Eleanor, six months<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-w3TMGY0TI/AAAAAAAAAn4/P0xY6ABYmAo/s1600/P1020983.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-w3TMGY0TI/AAAAAAAAAn4/P0xY6ABYmAo/s320/P1020983.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470808450153369906" border="0" /></a><br />That's me and Britta with our trendy shades...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-w4C5ybZnI/AAAAAAAAAoA/b8elcNEKAWA/s1600/P1020982.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-w4C5ybZnI/AAAAAAAAAoA/b8elcNEKAWA/s320/P1020982.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470809269871535730" border="0" /></a><br />Her dream come true (actually, Britta didn't even know Graceland was in Memphis)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-w3R4mvwqI/AAAAAAAAAno/iOrLbHbS9Cg/s1600/P1020989.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-w3R4mvwqI/AAAAAAAAAno/iOrLbHbS9Cg/s320/P1020989.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470808427740512930" border="0" /></a><br />the king<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbEJnlfSI/AAAAAAAAAmo/ZwN9sD59Xr0/s1600/DSC_0058.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbEJnlfSI/AAAAAAAAAmo/ZwN9sD59Xr0/s320/DSC_0058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470777405463690530" border="0" /></a><br />Mandy's getting married...AND our 5 year college graduation reunion!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbDQAFaxI/AAAAAAAAAmg/IE4U-kWp6ZY/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbDQAFaxI/AAAAAAAAAmg/IE4U-kWp6ZY/s320/DSC_0049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470777389997189906" border="0" /></a><br />Sister Charlotte came in town for the weekend!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbC0gwH3I/AAAAAAAAAmY/eJwTdMtpLxo/s1600/mandypants.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbC0gwH3I/AAAAAAAAAmY/eJwTdMtpLxo/s320/mandypants.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470777382618013554" border="0" /></a><br />Mandypants...typical.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdWcJAxVI/AAAAAAAAAmw/XowWXQLx5t8/s1600/DSC_0078.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wdWcJAxVI/AAAAAAAAAmw/XowWXQLx5t8/s320/DSC_0078.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470779918696629586" border="0" /></a><br />The group after several bottles of wine and wine tasting...apparently, we're hilarious.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbCHdTE7I/AAAAAAAAAmQ/i0fucrmClQQ/s1600/DSC_0077.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbCHdTE7I/AAAAAAAAAmQ/i0fucrmClQQ/s320/DSC_0077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470777370523931570" border="0" /></a><br />Our hair is longgg...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbBtQ25vI/AAAAAAAAAmI/bT095-rBE6M/s1600/DSC_0081.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S-wbBtQ25vI/AAAAAAAAAmI/bT095-rBE6M/s320/DSC_0081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470777363492431602" border="0" /></a><br />Joce's hair is darkkk...Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-61781487437646760792010-05-01T15:29:00.000-07:002010-05-01T15:54:07.524-07:00sneak peekOh my goodness. These are the first photos I've seen of the kids at Harka since Britta and I were there two years ago. Pinky was a volunteer nine months after us and just was able to visit for a few weeks last month....she sweetly shared these with us! They are tiny images but adorable, nonetheless.<br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9ywBib3fDI/AAAAAAAAAlw/C6nmE6fth9Q/s1600/secil"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 98px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9ywBib3fDI/AAAAAAAAAlw/C6nmE6fth9Q/s320/secil" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466437588190985266" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9ywB6-TwiI/AAAAAAAAAl4/kP66igiNYGM/s1600/tulie"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 98px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9ywB6-TwiI/AAAAAAAAAl4/kP66igiNYGM/s320/tulie" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466437594777895458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9ywCEQquQI/AAAAAAAAAmA/DuCWWWNpxCI/s1600/kids+karate"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 98px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9ywCEQquQI/AAAAAAAAAmA/DuCWWWNpxCI/s320/kids+karate" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466437597270817026" border="0" /></a>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-52276883169408354642010-04-27T12:54:00.000-07:002010-04-27T13:11:08.280-07:00hajariAs I woke this morning I noticed that the date on my phone was April 27...some people are more apt to knowing dates than others...I not being one of them. So even when I saw the date in my 6am delirium, I was pleasantly surprised. For today is Hajari's birthday. It snuck up on me this year, thus giving me all the more vigor to think of him throughout the day. Hajari was born six years ago, April 27, 2004, just six weeks before I arrived at Mother's Choice orphan home in Hong Kong for the summer months.<br /><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9dDPvSZ10I/AAAAAAAAAlo/IRIYfa0henk/s320/mocho0108.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464910610508142402" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9dDO3aktlI/AAAAAAAAAlg/iC4tOh_j_EQ/s320/mocho0097.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464910595510023762" /></div><div><br /></div><div>It is there that I fell in love with this chunky mohawked child, and for the briefest of moments, I became his adoring caretaker (along with many others, but I was the most obsessed). He was adopted to a local Hong Kong couple that November, and though I have been unable to stay in touch and see him grow, I have all the confidence that he is well loved and cared for. I smile thinking of how he's spending his sixth birthday, what friends he has made, what sport or toy he is most enamored with, etc. So while I think of him today, here are a few of those photos from our summer together.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9dDOSfbfRI/AAAAAAAAAlY/06pSygeTgVY/s320/mocho0001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464910585598278930" /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vARgxn7bdCs/S9dDNj-ILsI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/pAoXjhnAMy4/s320/mocho0068.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464910573110570690" /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyJYpd3b2sWkaEsvarGpkA6uz2STK5BYb7NS4VzsWN3ZpCI4-jnfvmGfu05iZ_zglJH-Pqc6zKW0FJHXLmnpw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-407504008718039415.post-5425560019691528242010-04-15T07:45:00.000-07:002010-04-15T08:27:45.355-07:00the earth and graceIn honor of Earth Day and the many other reminders of creation as of late, here is a favorite of mine from Wendell Berry's <span style="font-style: italic;">Leavings</span>:<br /><br />XVII.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span>Hardly escaping the limitless machines<br />that balk his thoughts and torment his dreams,<br />the old man goes to his own<br />small place of peace, a patch of trees<br />he has lived from many years,<br />its gifts of a few fence posts and boards,<br />firewood for winter, some stillness<br />in which to know and wait. Used<br />and yet whole this dear place is, whole<br />by its own nature and by his need. <br />While he lives it will be whole,<br />and after him, God willing, another<br />will follow in that membership<br />that craves the wholeness of the world<br />despite all human loss and blame.<br /><br />In the lengthening shadow he has climbed<br />again to the ridgetop and across<br />to the westward slope to see the ripe<br />light of autumn in the turning trees,<br />the twilight he must go by now<br />that only grace can give. Thus far<br />he keeps the old sectarian piety:<br />By grace we live. But he can go<br />no further. Having known the grace<br />that for so long has kept this world,<br />haggard as it is, as we have made it,<br />we cannot rest, we must be stirring<br />to keep that gift dwelling among us,<br />eternally alive in time. This<br />is the great work, no other, none harder,<br />none nearer rest or more beautiful.Rebecca McNeilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07602794161300550601noreply@blogger.com0