Giving the Mission Home a face-lift

We will be moving into the "Mission Home" within a week or so. There four painters working on the walls and cabinets, two ladies working on the floors, and an electrican came in earlier this week to put up some lights. The house was purchased by our mission organization almost 30 years ago, and it has not had a major face-lift since. Dan has a background in civil engineering, and he also has 10 years of experience with the Air Force in managing similar projects, working on this project is somewhat "right down his alley". However, we found out very quickly that the Filipino way of working is, of course, very different from what we are used to. From buying paint, or I should say, be able to find paint, to the concept of "work" are all quite different.

Dan's student in seminary, a wealthy Chinese businessman Teddy Uy, waived the contractor fees, while finding the best workers for us. We are thankful for Teddy. We still have to pay for all the material costs and the workers, but any penny saved is good.

Since we want to cut down on the cost and make the money go as far as possible, we are not asking the stores to mix the paint in a machine for us, which is common practise in the U.S. to ensure that you get the right colour. Doing so here is extremely expensive. Therefore, we use the Cebuano way, the painter drizzles the needed colours into a gallon of white and eye-balls it to the colour that we want. So far they have done a good job. Though that means every batch of colour is different, so they will have to mix enough to finish the paint job.

We anticipate a pause in our internet accessibility and home phone usage for a short while because of the move, therefore, don't panic if you have not heard from us for a few weeks.


Doors lined up for a second coat of paint


A lady sanding the floor in one of the bedrooms


Saw dust covering the furniture


The study having a major make-over


Sanding dust everywhere


The wooden panels from the study (chic in the 70s) from one of the rooms laying in the front yard.


Our helper, Maris, supervising the painters while Kioni watch, she is fascinated by the roller with the long pole.


The painter mixing the paint colours by drizzling the needed colours into a bucket of white paint, no measuring is needed, quite skillful, eh?

18 years

It's been 18 years, how much have changed in this 18 years. However, the heartaches have not changed.

It's been 18 years since I suddenly realize that I AM a Chinese. It was pounded into my head and my heart by the tanks that rolled into the streets of Beijing, by the students' songs when they were camping out in Tienanmen Square, by the bloody photos that was broadcasted all over TV.

That was an important day, not only because of what had happened in Beijing, but it ushered the politically numb Hong Kong people into realizing politics is not only for a handful of people, but for anyone who is concerned about what kind of society you will live in. Hong Kong was only 7 years away from turning back over to China in 1989.

I have not been able to participate in any of the gatherings since I left Hong Kong in 1996, however, every year on June 4th, my heart was as heavy as I watched the events of that fateful night unfold. I still remember the sense of disbelieve and the tears that streamed down my face. I remember sitting in front of the TV saying, "This is not possible, this is not possible....." over and over, struggling to figure out what exactly was happening in front of my eyes.

For all those who gave their lives that day, I ache for their parents whom were not allowed to remember their sons and daughters at the place where they died. I ache for those who have been in prison for the past 18 years. I ache for the government that seemingly is becoming one of the world's super powers, yet, too weak to stand up in front of the world and admit they made a mistake.

Another year has passed, what will happen next year?