My Life as an African Gypsy

There is something about the night that can change the appearance of a city. The once dingy dirty city can suddenly appear beautiful and mysterious. The music playing from inside homes makes the town feel exotic and foreign.


But then you get close.

The sidewalks are alive, not only with drunk men wobbling back and forth, but with what seems like hundreds of cockroaches and handfuls of rats that carry their recent catches in their mouths.

Walking from our vehicle to the inside of our apartment building is one that requires courage and a strong heart. You must be aware of all movement. The cockroaches, I believe, are just waiting to pounce. I see them scurrying all over, and then there will be the one, the one that sits and looks at you intensely on the ledge. His stare never wavers.

My husband asked me if cockroaches jump. I am not sure if they jump, but I know they can fly, and I am quite sure that they would just love to fly into my hair and torture me.

Sometimes I am walking behind my husband, who does not seems to have the same phobia as I do, and I tell him firmly, "Hurry!" And I am not joking. If he doesn't move, I may possibly knock him over onto that ground teeming with the hideous creatures!

The strange thing is that they do not seem to come inside. I have yet to see any inside of a building. Now by all means I am not complaining. I am not sure how I would do if they resided in my house... the Lord and I would have some conversations, and we may have to reevaluate our location. Just kidding... sort of. ;)

Instead I can watch the life on the sidewalks from my balcony. I play a little game and see if I can see the first rat running in the yard, or I will attempt to count the cockroaches running on the ground. They are so fast I have a difficult time keeping them apart.

I guess it is a little exotic.

Here we go...

• Fruits and veggies
• Fresh flowers. Beautiful ones!
• Cashews
• Newspapers
  
• Artificial Christmas trees (probably only during December)
• Purses, dresses, and p.j. pants made out of the most colorful African fabrics
• Wood carvings (My personal favorite: A hippo standing, wearing a suit, glasses, and smoking a pipe. I want one. Everytime I see it it makes me giggle.)
• Shoes. They love shoes here. On the sidewalk there will be piles of shoes for sale. How you ever find the pair, I don't know.
• Maps of Mozambique. Large detailed ones on wooden dowels.
• DVDs
• Jewelry
• Plug adapters. Much needed here. Ex: A picture of how I charge my computer.

• Beautiful paintings on cloths like the following picture. (I plan to buy a few before moving to Angola. I love them!)

That's all I can think of for now. I mentally "drove" down the street. If I see anything else fun, I'll let ya know.

During our visit to the Oncology ward last week, Jon and I agreed that we would like to spend part of our Christmas day at the hospital with the patients unable to make the journey home. The Oncology department here in Maputo is the only one in all of Mozambique, so many of the patients have come a long way and family is quite far.

I can relate; I am a long way from home and my family is quite far.

Because we are new to the area and currently do not have any children, we did not have many plans for the day. We went ahead and promised our new friends a visit.

After sleeping in and eating some scrumptious homemade cinnamon rolls (a tradition I keep), we headed up to the hospital.

A man we have grown to love, Tony, saw our car pull up and came out into the parking lot to greet us enthusiastically. Precious.

During the past few weeks we have been working mainly with the children there. Jon has also had the opportunity to get to know some of the guys, who are fun loving and eager to chat, but it has been a little difficult for me to connect with the mothers of the children. They are friends with one another and not sick, so not in terrible need of conversation. I felt like I was trying to gain respect with their click.

I have not arrived and have not given up, but I had another opportunity today... I was able to spend a good amount of time with the women in the ward, who have cancer and are going through treatment. I had such precious conversations, and felt so welcomed and loved.

I kept telling them, "I do not have family here; they are in America, but today, you are my family." They assured me that I was not alone.

What a good Christmas spent with dear new family.

(Christmas morning with yummy cinnamon roll with cinnamon cream cheese icing.)

The way one thinks when becoming a missionary changes.

Of course, right?

In this blog I am going to share a story about money, just because I like to be honest, and I like you to know what goes on in the head of a missionary.

You see, I started working out recently. Again. I am trying to get a jump start on the new year. I wanted to look for some hand weights that I could use with my video, so while we were at a large store "Game" I peeked to see the price. Most everything is more expensive here than in the States, so I knew to approach hesitantly.

18 dollars. For one 5 pound hand weight.

I need two.

Couldn't do it.

It is not so much that we don't have the money, because we do. We do because we have amazing supporters who love us and share our heart for Africa.

I am not even saying that I won't ever pay it. Maybe at some point I will decide it is worth it. First I will check in South Africa and make sure I cannot get them cheaper, but I may pay $36 for weights to help stay healthy.

But not right now.

It is different living on support. We live on comfortable budget. We do not live a deprived life by any means. I just want to be sure to honor the people who believe in us, the ones who give to see that the people of Mozambique, of Angola, are loved.

You see?

So when I make a purchase, I think twice.

That's all.

It is not a bad thing. It is just how it is, living on support.

As much as I love my two foot Christmas tree, and I do love it, it is not quite enough to bring the warm fuzzies I am used to during this time of year.

I have played much Christmas music around here, drank solely out of my red Starbucks cups, put on my red and green outfits, painted my toes red, gone to some parties, sang carols, watched 'Elf'...

Sigh.

It is just the whole waking up to 95 degree heat just kills it. Ya know?

In our apartment the sun comes up and straight into the living room, which means the minute I walk out of my room, I am hot. And grumpy.

I worked out this morning to a cardio video, and afterward I could not cool down for the life of me. I ended up taking a cool shower, but still came out with a face looking like a tomato.

Then this afternoon I was out on our balcony folding clothes (because we line dry everything, which is a story for another blog) and I thought I was going die. It was so very very hot.

Okay, okay, I am exaggerating a bit there. I wasn't going to die, but sweat was dripping from bizarre places. Only in Africa have I learned the feeling of sweat coming out the pores on my calves. Not nice.

To top things off, in all of our attempts at making Christmas like home, we missionaries bake for all the parties. The problem with this is that it means we have to turn the oven on, and that makes it even hotter.

I won't give up though.

This is my Christmas, and my first in Africa. We will have to learn to make new traditions, and somehow incorporate the things we deem most important from home... even if it means being a little extra hot.

Praise the Lord, this woman has a kitchen.

There is something about cooking, baking, and cleaning that makes me feel like a wife... like a woman. Now I realize this isn't true for everyone, but for me it is. (Those who know me, know my love for baking and such.)


I have been in limbo without my "own" kitchen for almost 6 months! And it has been rough.

This week we moved into a semi-permanent apartment. What I mean by that is that we are staying for 2-3 months in a missionary couple's apartment, who are on furlough.

And I have a kitchen.

For now...

And I am going to town!

Apple strudel muffins, baked chicken, pan seared green beans, mashed potatoes, tacos, apple crumble, and on and on... Christmas morning = homemade cinnamon rolls!

I also am enjoying the dishes! Who would think? I think that one will wear off though. =)

There were a few things that irritated me, but nothing really to justify the particular foul mood. Honestly, it had been an enjoyable morning; I made super yummy muffins, and finally I was not feeling as sick. But somewhere in there I just got "off".

How does that happen?

Don't you know what I mean? Has it happened to you? Suddenly you are just irked.

This afternoon we were going back to the hospital to volunteer with the children in the oncology ward. I was tired and not really wanting to apply my mind to Portuguese, so to be completely transparent, I was not looking forward to my time there.

Ever been there? On your way to ministry... dragging your heavy feet?

We drove up, and as we were parking I saw them. The children. They were sitting there on their stools at the white plastic table. My mood started to shift.

I hopped out of the car and waved. Big smiles and small arms flying around. Okay, their cute.

We sat down, and they welcomed us with such love. Being patient with our Portuguese, they decided to teach us a song. Jon learned better than me; I was distracted. I had a little girl sitting there in my lap. Across from me two precious boys were laughing and giggling as they showed me their belly buttons. And then one leaned in for a "beijo" or a "kiss". Then the other. My heart was full.

There is something about serving people, something about loving people, something about giving to people... even if it has to be a deliberate scheduled choice. Your heart will catch up, I promise.

One day after arrival here in Maputo, Mozambique our friends took us to a nice little coffee shop with an outside patio and home roasted coffee beans. While driving there they said, "This place has bagels!" (Bagels are a rare commodity in Africa) Jon and I had already eaten that morning so we passed on the temptation, and only sipped some coffee... okay and I took some bites of a chocolate chip cookie, but I intended not to eat.

This Saturday morning though, I awoke with an urge to get out sip some coffee and eat this famous bagel. Because of being sick, I haven't gotten out too much, but I didn't care, I'd go sick and all! I searched online and found how to get there, and off we went to Cafe Sol (http://cafesolmozambique.com/).

My hubby and I enjoyed some conversation, some yummy coffee, and some oh so good bagels with lovely cream cheese. Boy were they good. I think it may be my special treat from time to time. Nevermind, I lied... they were cheap, so I think I will want to go once a week. Ha!

Hello toilet, let's be friends.

One thing as a missionary, you become used to tummy problems. The usual uncomfortable word "diarrhea" is said without missing a beat... "Oh, and you have diarrhea?" (along with the sympathetic nod)

Mozambique did not want to disappoint, so upon being here for only two days I already have gotten something, and I say "something" without really wanting to know what that creepy little something is. What I do know is that my body is not a fan, and is trying it's darnedest to eliminate it.

This elimination process has been quite uncomfortable and accompanied by some not so usual (for me) intense sharp pains. Boo!

I have attempted to keep moaning to a minimum, seeing as the bathroom has a large open window up top, over looking the lovely garden where people like to gather some quiet time. I would hate to interrupt. (Ha!)

Thankfully, our previous 'Around the World' trip introduced this terribly intimate occasion to our marriage, and my husband has seen the worst of it. That bout of illness was far worse than this, requiring constant supervision to prevent fainting or falling from weariness... hideous right? Yeah... needless to say, my self-consciousness about this area was forced out the window early on, and my husband is an awesome caretaker. Ah! Reminds me of a quick story. (bear with me)

While in Angola last year, I had this "bout" I spoke of earlier. At one point
I had either just vomited or used the toilet, when my husband walked in
to check on me. In my delirious state, when he walked in I heard him say,
"Oh God that stinks!" My newly married self thought, "Well gee, as if I
didn't know that." Humiliated. After recounting the story later, I realized
I had heard wrong. Though I cannot remember the exact words, he had
definitely not said that and indeed said something filled with much more
sympathy.

Anyways, this is a very real part of missions and my life in Africa so I thought I'd share. Hopefully you found some humor in my misery, you awful people, you.

I had some reservations about our journey to Mozamibque...

Last night Jon and I spent the night in Pretoria, South Africa. On our way into town, we stopped at a mall because we were needing to buy some cell phones, and South Africa tends to be cheaper than other southern African countries. Unfortunately, South Africa currently has some pretty strict rules on selling phone and SIM cards. You have to have a passport and proof of residency along with a couple of other things.

We weren't too worried, since Jon has his Botswana residency permit. The funny thing was, once we got to the store, a residency permit does not qualify as proof of residency.

A young man overheard our dilemma, and said, "What if I bought the phone?"

The sales woman wasn't a fan.

He then looked at her and said, "I would like to buy another phone."

Jon pointed and said, "YES!"

The sales woman asked, "What if they commit a crime? It will be linked to your passport!"

He shrugged, "I'll go to jail." (We loved his trust and nonchalant-ness)

The sales woman caved, and off she went to get the phones.

While waiting, we chatted with the young man and his mom. Turns out they had been missionaries in Lebanon in the past and are Christians. How awesome that the Lord would bring us together. We proceeded to ask if they had a suggestion for a guest house, since we didn't know of any in the area. Happens they had friends who owned a guesthouse, but after calling it was full.

We urged them not to worry about us, but he went ahead and called the manager. They made room for us. Our new friends even offered to let us follow them there!

In the car I was worried what kind of place this might be that "made room for us", but may I tell you that is was quite the opposite of the images that flashed in my head. It was luxury! The bed was huge, the pillows perfect, the shower was amazing, and there was breakfast!

Off our friends went, friends that we may never see again, friends who showed us the love of Jesus, who did unto to us as they would do to Jesus...

Then to top things off, while checking out, the woman said that she knew we were missionaries, so she would discount the room for us.

At one point, I looked at my husband and said, "I think the Lord is going to take care of us."

Of course He will. He always has.


(The picture is a double rainbow we had the other day in Lobatse, Botswana

The other night we joined a home group Bible study in our friends’ house. It was a sweet time of new and old believers, Batswana, Zimbabwean, and American delving into the Scriptures and finding ways to implement them into our daily lives.

Remember, I said it was night.

And the lights were on, as we needed to see our Bibles.

This equals bugs.

No biggie. Moths are common and some June bugs aren’t too scary.

Unfortunately, just when it came time to read another portion of scripture, in flew a beetle... and not just any beetle, a BIG beetle. You could hear this thing from all the way across the room, and then it would hover right around head height. Now mind you, it wasn't just this white girl wiggin', all of us were. From time to time it would hit the ceiling so hard it would plummet in unknown directions.

The lady reading the Bible was persistent and kept plowing on, trying not to take part in the distraction.

The beetle won.

Attention was gone.

Finally, the man leading the Bible study stood up and with his bare hand he whacked the beetled, sending it spiraling downward to the floor. Stunned and nearly dead. Maybe the beetle didn't win after all.

Bible study commenced.

I asked my husband the other night, "Will we ever stay in one place?" His answer was, "We are gypsies!" I decided I don't want to be a gypsy forever. Or maybe even for long...

I think this whole living out of bags, being without a kitchen, sleeping in strange beds, etc. has begun to wear on me. I feel unsettled, and the honest problem is that I am not sure when we may "settle". This hasn't just been the case since we got to Africa, but since we left for Portugal... and even a bit since we have been married.

Yeah, yeah, I know the whole "the Lord is preparing you" and "He is shaping you" and all that jazz. I even believe it! But during this process, many times I am an emotional basket case. And the trouble with this is that my poor husband has to live with me!

I go from crying without reason to laughing and wanting to be playful. One moment everything irritates me and the next I want to snuggle. I asked him just last night, "Do you think I am crazy?" He just, "Just a tiny tiny can of crazy." I love him.

I think there is hope though. Someday I will have a place to call home... at least I keep telling myself this cannot go on forever. Right?

In the meantime, my hubby is getting practice for when I become pregnant. After all this, it will be a piece of cake for him.

Welcome back to Africa. Remember, Layne, things aren't quite on your time schedule.

Phew. This one is a toughy for me. I am extremely time conscious, and if I am given a time estimate, I expect it to be somewhat in range.

Nope. Not here. This is not new news to me, but it hasn't made it any easier thus far. =/

The other day we had an appointment to get our windows tinted for our vehicle. We purposely set an appointment the day before, so we'd only have to be in town a couple hours. Being in town without a vehicle and trying not to spend much money is difficult, AND we have done it about four or five times in the last two weeks.

8:30am appointment - check!

We asked how long it would take, and they said maybe two or two and a half hours. No prob. We'll grab coffee and check internet, and it shouldn't be too much longer.

Five and a half hours later, we sat on a couch in the business's reception area, watching as they did the back windows.

Then today we had to change the registration of our vehicle to our name. We arrived at the office at nine in the morning, and our ticket estimated a four hour and twenty minute wait. (Yes, I think they should open more than two counters too.) We decided to leave and come back. We came back, giving an hour grace period for cancellations and whatnot.

We missed our number. Not by many, but too bad. I tried to remain calm.

The new ticket estimated our new wait time to be at two hours and twenty-ish minutes. We ran home, grabbed our Kindles to read, and headed back. A little over three hours later, much sweat lost, and many chapters read, our registration was changed.

Get used to it, eh? I am thinkin' I am going to gain some patience... or high blood pressure. I think I'll go with the first.

You know, even as a missionary you have to decidedly hunger for the word of God. It doesn't suddenly or supernaturally become easy just because you are living in Africa. I am no "super-Christian".

Yesterday in church we sang the old song "This Is the Air I Breathe", and I was reminded of the importance of the word of God and his presence in our daily lives. Then, as God so graciously does, He tied in this morning's Bible reading.

Jon and I were reading John 6. In this passage Jesus feeds the crowd with the 5 barley loaves and 2 fish, a story we are familiar with. Then for days the people get hung up on physical food. They want Jesus to give the manna from heaven like in the Old Testament; they want food. I really can't blame them though; I like food, especially free food, and Jesus seemed to have no problem producing it. I think I would have been in the front asking. ;)

This wasn't Jesus' message though. Jesus stresses to them that He is the bread of life, that we must eat of His flesh and drink of His blood. (I know, I know, this seems like a strange passage... it was for them too. In fact many ended up turning away and no longer following Jesus.) Don't be alarmed though; we obviously cannot literally eat Jesus' flesh and blood, now can we? But we can feast on the Word, and isn't Jesus referred to as the Word in John chapter 1?

It is when we feast on Him (on His Word and in His presence) that He remains in us. Seems simple right? Until life happens. I know life can get chaotic, and things can happen "out of schedule" and throw the day off. It happens all the time to me. Mothers, I am positive you can understand this!

But if you are like me, I can I assure you that I never, and I mean never, miss out on food. Even if I grab a bar for the road, I have to eat. In fact, I get all weak and sick feeling without it. If only this happened when I wasn't in the Word. Or wait... maybe it does in a way. I normally can be more negative, shorter fuse, irritable, etc. Maybe you too?

I need the presence of God to remain in me, otherwise, I cannot breathe the "air of God" in or out. And isn't that our goal? To share the presence of God with the people around us?

So here is my challenge: No matter what kind of crazy day you have, take a moment to eat some of the Word (Jesus) and breathe in the air of His presence. (Even if sometimes it is on the run... in the car, in the bathroom, in line, etc.)

This morning I decided that I wanted to keep the tradition of setting up the Christmas tree on Thanksgiving weekend, even though I will be moving in approximately 9 days. It is still 9 days, right? (and it is so small I don't mind doing it again once we get to Mozambique)

So Christmas music shall commence, as well as other little things, like movies, maybe cookies, etc.

So here is Jon and my 1st tree in Africa! I think we will wait until we have some little ones to upgrade to a full size.

Thank you "Mr. Price Home" for my 9 ornaments and strand of silver beads. I plan to add a red bow to the top as soon as I can find some ribbon.

Thank you Tara for the cup towel, which I am currently using as a tree skirt, because I have no kitchen. =)

Last night I had a lovely reminder that I live in a dangerous land... well, not absurdly so, but I should remember to be on my toes.

Jon and I were returning to our room after a lovely Thanksgiving day filled with much eating and fun game playing. As I approached our door in the dark, as I do every night, I saw movement on the ground. This is not so abnormal either, as insects are part of life here and to be expected when outside. The difference was the size of the thing.

I approached with caution and soon realized that this thing was a gigantic scorpion! I called my husband over, who bravely decided to go in the door. Not me. Too close for comfort.

It kept walking back and forth in front of the door, as if standing guard and not wanting to allow me in! A man living close came over to see what was going on, and he brought with him a large torch (flashlight). Wowee! This scorpion was the largest Jon and I have either seen. Thankfully, perhaps due to the light, it moved off the sidewalk and into the dirt. Safe. I'd be able to sleep in my room after all!

I must admit, the couple of times I had to walk outside after that, I did so slowly and with much caution... probably too much. But it was a good wake up reminder that I should be aware of where my little feet are walking, because like it or not, I live in a dangerous land.

I am known for how frequently I have to use the restroom.

Unfortunately, my bladder is just small, but I have learned to live with it. Last night, as routine, I was going to use the restroom right before bed in hopes of sleeping through the night. At the place we are staying the restroom is detached; it is just a short walk away. I went to unlock the door... oops. The key just spun round and round. Here they use skeleton keys, and it turns out on of the little edges had broken off.

Locked in.

The only way out or in was climbing through the window. What could I do? I went, again hoping that I would sleep through the night.

Nope.

I woke up in the middle of the night and had to go. I tried to talk myself out of it, telling myself that the only reason I felt like I needed to go was because I felt trapped, not because I really needed to. I rolled over, tried to sleep, but it was pointless.

I grabbed my sweater and flip flops, climbed on the chair, then up to the window seal, jumped to the ground, walked to the restroom, went potty, walked back, hiked my leg as high as it could go up to the window seal, grabbed the wall and the window frame, hoisted myself through, climbed down the chair, took of my shoes and sweater, and got back into bed.

This happened not once, but twice.

Phew. We got a new key this morning. Thank you Lord.

You drink loads of tea with milk and sugar... of which I love.

Cows, goats, and baboons will potentially block the road on a normal drive, requiring slowing down and much honking.

Tractors are allowed to drive on the two lane road, going approximately 15 mph, backing up traffic like crazy.

You must get used to crazy passing techniques while driving. My heart is currently still adjusting.

If you go to a fast food restaurant, they will most likely not have everything on the menu, in fact probably only 50%.

You can get your newly purchased radio installed at a "shop" under the tree for about $12.

Tummy problems are normal... actually frequent.

You become willing to pay at times what I consider outrageous amounts for things like breakfast bars, cheese, ice cream, chips, etc.

You cannot pump your own gas. It is all full service.

You must tell the cashier how many plastic sacks you want before you start loading groceries... you learn to guess well.

There are termite plagues from time to time, mainly at dusk, and they love the lights. (These are not your ant sized termites either!)

Every now and again you must wonder if what you are eating is really beef.

Dancing is everywhere. I was waiting in line somewhere the other day, and a woman was just dancing in line to the music playing in the store. Lovely!

There is a drink called an Appletizer (red, green, and white) that I love. It is just sparkling juice, but I am a fan.


And those are a few highlights... here is a picture of a couple things a love. (Five roses tea: which I have found none other quite like it. Rusks: which are like a biscotti, but better. Top Decks: which are the perfect blend of milk chocolate and white chocolate, which I have never tasted any candy so good.)

This morning Jon and I went to our first church service since being back in Africa. May I tell you that there is just something about singing African voices that stirs me... often to tears. Though I have been here two weeks, it is only today that I have really felt "back".

We sang some familiar songs in Setswana and did a little dancing, of which I probably looked very white. Oh well. I think they appreciate the attempt. =)

After the service we chatted with some older men about the provision of the Lord, and they were quick to encourage us and to reassure us that the Lord would help with getting into Angola. And it is true. He will help us. He is, even now, helping us.

One man spoke of the Lord, and he said to me, "He is a beautiful God. I like Him. It is good to work for Him."

Amen, right? We do serve a beautiful God and it is good, it is good, to work for Him.

For the one whom God has sent speaks the words of God,
for God gives the Spirit without limit. ~John 3:34

It has been raining day and night for three days straight.

What I have been amazed at is that there is relatively minimal flooding. We are currently staying in the Kalahari desert, and I suppose the the ground is so dry and the sand so porous that it quickly drinks in the large quantity of water falling upon it.

As I was reading the Bible this morning with my husband, we came across this verse above in John chapter three. It is a familiar passage of scripture, as it hosts the story of Nicodemus and the well known John 3:16, but the little verse towards the end grabbed us.

As I laid in bed a little longer, listening to the raining beating upon the tin roof above us, I could not help but think of the limitless outpouring of the Spirit that is available to us.

You see, it matters what kind of ground you are. I lived in Arizona for awhile, a desert as well. The difference was that when there was a downpour of rain, the ground was so hard it was unable to soak in the water. Flooding was inevitable. It had been so long between rains it was as if the ground never expected water again; it was not prepared. It had grown accustom to "life" without water.

The desert here is different. There are still long periods of time between rains, but it knows the cycle. It is ready for the rains. And when the rains come, it is amazing how quickly life emerges. It seems as though thing turn green over night.

I want to be like the sand of the Kalahari desert, porous and ready to receive vast quantities of the Spirit. I do not want to become accustom to life without the Spirit. Sometimes it seems there are lulls, times without an outpouring, but I want to keep my soul expectant of the next "rain", the next limitless outpouring of the Spirit, and be ready to come to life, ready to grow.

Jon and I have now been in Botswana for close to two weeks, and may I tell you, nothing has gone as planned. As things have slowly begun to unfold, we have begun to see the Lord's handiwork. Frankly, I am surprised, since many times it take months or years to be able to look back on hard times and understand why.

I will not complain though! I am so grateful to recognize His hand early on, and be able to give Him praise. Or wait. I guess we are to give Him praise even during the hard times, right? Humm... is that just hard for me? I am thinking not.

I am learning though, and I hope you are too. The more the Lord has proven Himself faithful, the sillier I feel when I throw one of my "poor me" pity parties, complete with sobbing, snotty nose, and words I quickly wish I could stuff back inside. (They are ugly, trust me!)

Last week I laid in bed crying and crying, unreasonably upset with people, frustrated with my situation. This week I see that the timing of things is perfect. A week earlier, and things would not be falling into place. Without our vehicle being broke into, we would not be getting a vehicle that suits our needs even better.

So next time we, because I am sure I am not alone, have one of our ugly pity parties, let's step back, get a grip, and remember the faithfulness of our Lord.

I have grown somewhat accustom to little bugs all around.

Beetles are some of my least favorite; having grown up in South Texas, they remind me a little too much of the dreaded cockroach. Spiders on the other hand, as I have been told, are many times good to have around. This is because they eat other insects, the ones I like less.

Around here I have come to know three kinds of spiders, maybe by their technical names, or maybe by names that have been passed down from one frightful encounter to another. One spider reminds me of a daddy-long-legs, one is flat and sometimes larger wall spider, and the last is a smaller jumping spider.

Last night I was taking a nice bath, when, already emerged in the hot water, I discovered a little jumping spider hiding underneath the soap dish that is mounted in the wall. No biggie, just so long as it stays put. You see, I may have gotten used to the bugs around, but not on me or even too near me.

It was not a minute later that this little fellow started to move. Slowly, mind you, but moving. Not good.

Towards the tub. Worse.

I could not help but envision him using his jumping legs and leaping into my hot relaxing bath, which would quickly become very UN-relaxing.

My method of defense, you ask?

Coughing. Yes, coughing.

I figured that loud noises may detract him. I also tried movement. Not too fast though, or it may spook him into a jump that would land him in the water next to me.

Needless to say, my hot relaxing bath turned into a short "get yourself clean quick" bath.