It was Tim and Maisey’s service day. Maisey is a pioneer. Her name (pronounced MAY-see) has an interesting story behind it.The Dutch word for girl is meisje. The Craigs liked it, but couldn’t get the pronunciation right, so when they had their second daughter they named her ‘Maisey’ as an Anglicized version of the word. Shes an athletic musician with a love of horses and Maccas coupons. Impassioned entreaties and carefully worded arguments to the effect that said coupons were about to expire and should be used immediately were repeatedly rebuffed.
We arrived at the hall and I was put into a group. So began my first day in the ministry in Oz. I worked with a 21 year old brother named Charlie and we set off to cover our assignment. The method of covering said assignment was a bit different than I’m used to. We worked around one side of an entire block house over house with another couple of brothers. At one point we stopped at a corner to decide where we needed to go next. As we reconnoitered, a lady in a wagon drove past and looked at us. We rounded a corner and a handful of houses later we came to a door that was open. It turned out to be the lady who had passed us earlier. Although she said she was Baptist, she talked with us for a good fifteen minutes and it was very pleasant. We left a tract and showed her a video. As we walked away her young son kept calling ‘Bye!’ after us.
We met up back at the hall for break, although that too was different. In the US break usually means stopping somewhere and buying food or coffee. Here we gathered under the overhang in front of the entrance way and a table was laid out with tea, coffee, and snacks. We sat in a circle and talked and enjoyed our tasty little repast. The night before I had met a brother from New Zealand named Cameron and I was to work with him and a few other young people as we returned to the ministry. A memorable trait of Cameron’s was attaching bro to the end of a lot of what he said. It’s apparently done much across the Tasmin. Either bro or man.
We did some calls and then stopped into a seafood place to get hot chips (French fries) and gravy. Cameron was given a huge paper package and I was given the charge of holding it as we drove back to the hall to write letters. When we arrived, two wonderful things happened: The air con (a/c) was immediately turned on full blast and the paper package was opened, revealing an enormous bunch of thick, salty chips. They were truly amazing. This was partly because they were fried and salted to perfection, and partly because I hadn’t had fries in two weeks and appreciated them immensely as a result.
Letter writing here is a bit different than in Ohio. Those who write them introduce themselves by name, include their phone number and email address, and can leave the letters in mail boxes.
Service finally ended and we went home. I had a niggling headache and went to have a lay down in the swag, but first Tim suggested I drink something that would help me recover. I had been drinking a lot of water since arriving in the country, intent on keeping hydrated, but what I was next introduced to would eclipse my craving for simple hydration. It was called cordial and it had been originally introduced to encourage Australians to drink more water. It’s essentially a concentrated syrup that needs to be mixed with water and comes in an array of flavors. My introduction was to the lime variety, and I would favor that flavor for the duration of my stay. Tim explained that between a little heat stroke from the days labors and the concentrated mental exertion of a day in service, a little headache was natural. A drink and a nap would fix me right up.
Two hours later I awoke and zipped out of the swag to find the family waiting for me. Tuula came over and asked about the scar on my head as she sat down and I told the story. I then went to sit with the others and Tim began to play music that he had lined up for me to listen to: The Baby Animals, Paul Kelly, The Angels, and many others including the requisite Cold Chisel and Acca Dacca (AC/DC). He also revealed that he was a big Bon Jovi fan and had recently gone to a concert with his daughter. Tuula began tugging on my sleeve again and asking if she could show me her drum set.
We entered a sort of garage and she showed me what actually looked like a pretty awesome drum kit. Turns out that the Craigs are a musical family. Maisey and Tim play guitar, Fiona sings, Tuula’s working on her drumming, and Khiara…well, we’ll get to her in another post. The whole family can sing. Maisey loaned me a tin sandwich (harmonica) to work on when I got to Monto.
Dinner, or tea, as they call it (actually tea can be any meal) was potato bake with sausage and chicken and amusing conversation on the side. This was followed by family worship, which was in two parts. The first was the family taking an opportunity to sync their schedules so that everyone knew about upcoming trips and assemblies. The second part was ‘Ask Mo spiritual questions about himself’. This actually became ‘Mo volunteering information about himself in the hopes of generating questions’, which eventually happened.
After a little television, it was most people’s bed time, so I zipped into my swag for the night. There were rumors of possible (and very much needed) rain, but apart from about three raindrops that hit me in the face and woke me up, there was nothing. Earlier in the day I had gotten pictures of the heavy haze on every horizon and was told that it was actually bush fire smoke. I had heard that the air quality in Sydney had gotten very bad since I left, for the same reason. In fact it was rumored to be worse than the air quality in Beijing due to the drifting smoke. Tomorrow Tim and Khiara would take me to Monto.
I wondered if the weather would be any better there.
