Holuwon - Sun., March 9, 08

To the right of the house there runs a stream. There is always a soft sound of rushing water. Yet, the sound increases noticeably after a rain, and especially a hard rain. Very soothing. This morning, following many hours of light to heavy rain, the stream is gushing full.
My nasal congestion has dramatically lessened. Maybe, it's the mountain air-probably simply time. Coughing has dropped to a nagging. I'm on the mend. With soap only being used once to wash dishes, I try to remember which cup is mine. The dishes have a film of oil and pieces of previous whatnot. Nothing is sanitary. It's a wonder I haven't caught something.
Erius comes in with a razor, one of the old fashioned type, and offers it for my use. Scrapping, and cutting through my beard, it's a painful shave-cold water and soap for lather.
Walking in to where I am taking breakfast, Yariut holds up a roll of toilet paper. where he found that only he knows. Triumphantly he places it in its spot. As I write, he has finished his laundry, placing the washed clothes on th line out back and is preparing to take a shower. Sunday best!
At 9:00, as last week, it is services. This time they appear better prepared for this white guy. An older gentleman is directing traffic as the crowd sings and mills around noisily. A rowdier group than last week. There are times I can't hear the speaker for all the commotion-children talking, crying, women pushing children to each other, men discussing something. There is a women's choir, which has many in the audience singing along. Also, an 8 man, 2 guitar special number. I hear, for the first time, an old English hymn set to Yali, "Nothing But The Blood of Jesus." The offering waits till I arrive. Quick learners. The service has the same main components as last week with me placing a nickname on the preacher-"Smiley". With a constant milling and rumbling from the crowd, he preaches from Rom. 13:11-14. Directly in front of me and sitting on the floor, as most everyone is, a mother rocks her young infant in her carrying net. To my front and left is a mother with a 2 year old who reaches into his mother's loose blouse for some comfort. As the sermon is heading for a close, with 10 minutes left, a 3 year old boy approaches me from my right, slaps my right knee, turns with his back to me, and presses in between my legs. My left hand goes around his chest and I pat him repeatedly. He presses closer. Who is this precious child? He makes me long for my own 3 year old grandson - Tyler. Pressing harder against my left leg, with my rubbing of his right shoulder and arm, he stays till it's time for me to leave. What brought him to me? Yesterday, I took sugar out to the children at the house. Is he one of those children?
Returning home I find my next book, "The Hollow Hills", The life of Merlin.