Life Happenings and Parenting beginings

"Its not a big issue" he said, I was holding Joshua on my hip and staring back at my husband in the late afternoon, outside our rental house. "actually" he continued "the only issues with the car are very little".  I nodded, adjusting the baby.  This may have been more convincing if we weren't having this conversation while he was zip tying our front car bumper into place. Yes you read that right.  the car bumper of our Toyota vios had fallen off while I was leaving the ministry grounds that afternoon.  There had been a catalyst of course, I 'slightly' bumped into a rock while making a three point turn which resulted in the front of the car falling off.  All the men on the property  came running, stray screws were found and a "remedy" was made to put it in place to at least get me home.  It was official, the car was literally falling apart. Nestor evaluated it upon my return.  Silently he went to work, finding some more screws and then gathering his trusty zip ties he twisted and tied the thing on more securely,  all while declaring "its not a big issue".  Have I mentioned that Nestor is an optimist?  

Needless to say the Anggowos' needed a new car. I had purchased the third hand vehicle back in 2021 and it had been a real blessing, but after almost 5 years of rough roading it to villages, the kilometers getting so high that it actually went back to zero! (I didn't even know that was possible), we do a LOT of driving in this ministry.  Many trips to the auto shop, scratches and dints, and then the A/C giving out (it would only work properly if the sun wasn't shinning) the car seemed to be screaming to "Just let me go!" and we were becoming inclined to agree, as we no longer felt comfortable driving outside Tabuk. So we prayed,  and prayed, we prayed every day for a car and after some patience God answered and provided us with a Toyota Raize. a car that can handle rough roads much better than a vios.  Praise God!! Such a blessing and no more zip ties (at least in the car).  We feel comfortable being able to drive distances and jut recently were able to attend a training for Nestor's translation team.  It has been wonderful for both of our ministries, being able to transport and and be more mobile is HUGE, especially with a baby. 

Joshua approving of the car

Both Nestor and I continue to be busy with the ministries.  I, behind my desk working on spreadsheets and spending time with the girls any chance I can, and Nestor behind his desk working on orally translating the New Testament into 'literally' his mother's tongue, the Kalingan Language of Sumadel.  I never thought I would be doing deskwork in my life, but God has given me a joy for it that I was not expecting.  I have learned so much over the years and there is still so much learning ahead.  But I love it when I can just be with the girls under our care, weather its doing an activity such as baking or having chats and laughing together.  Nestor Loves his work, he is so passionate and is excited to go to work every day and work so closely with the word of God.  He says is feels like seminary as he is learning so much about the Bible and its meaning during the translating process.  It truly is a fascinating process. I have learned so much just from observing him. 

(the picture below is when I made some custard tarts with a few of the girls at the ministry) 

We both work full weeks.  Accepting that I am not a stay at home mom, I will admit brought on some guilt.  I had always imagined being a stay at home mom, barefoot and pregnant kind of thing. But God Brought Nestor and I here, inserted in two different mission ministries full time. And God is providing, we are so rich in people and family who come to our aid to help us raise our family.  We thank the Lord for my sister in law Jackie who cares for Joshua while I work.  The wonderful thing is that I have been able to bring Joshua with me to the ministry where I can continue to nurse him while Jackie babysits him. I am so thankful that the time he is not with us he is with trusted family.  Being a first time mom and learning how to live in another culture, I am more than happy to have my husband's family help me raise my children.

Joshua with his aunty Jackie and his Lola (Grandma)

Joshua playing with his cousins

As the time to wean Joshua approaches, we plan to transition to taking Joshua to our family's village where everyone can help care for him. There he can play with his cousins and really absorb the languages.  It truly takes a village! My mother's heart is dreading this a little, knowing he won't be just nearby or coming to me every few hours to nurse.  But I am glad he gets to be with his grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins, and embrace the joy of village life.

Parenting with two different cultures is a learning curve.   I have had many moments where I am certain I am parenting wrong, thinking "my mom didn't do this?" or "I don't remember hearing parents talk about this challenge" .  But my situation is very different than my mom's or my aunts or my sisters or other mothers I knew growing up,  because I live in a different country and am married to a man of the Philippines. I grew up with one parenting worldview and Nestor and his family another.  This creates some very interesting dynamics and adjustments for both of us.  We need to decide which customs we use and which ones we adjust.  For example The Canadian style of parenting is often focused more on independence, such as giving your children their own room, but houses are bigger in Canada, we don't have extra rooms in our house,  and with concerns about break ins or being bitten by cockroaches we don't feel comfortable having him on his own anyway.  The Kalingan parenting is a more  interdependent approach, contact naps and not leaving babies alone for long periods, but often you all live together with your family, everyone helping to raise your children, but Nestor and I live on our own, our relatives a 45 minute drive away.  So we make adjustments, we learn to create our own routines to accommodate what works for our family culture.  

Joshua's first Tim Hortons while in Manila for immigration 

Its difficult to define what kind of culture our family is, is it Canadian? is it Kalingan? let alone to find resources on it.  Joshua is a missionary kid but not in the traditional sense.  Traditionally Missionary Kids are assumed to be children raised by two westerners in a culture not their own.  But Although both Nestor and I are missionaries, I am the only "westerner" in the family.  Both Joshua's parents (Nestor and I) come from separate cultures, but the culture our son is being raised in is his father's.  Its closer to an immigration situation except that doesn't quite fit either as I need to have one foot in Canada because of my connection to our supporters.  So we are left in this kind of in between, a family culture that is difficult to define. Together Nestor and I work to navigate parenting and culture.  I am learning about raising children the Kalingan way, because we live in Kalinga and there our resources and circumstances that are different.  Who knew resources had so much to do with raising children!? not having cribs or high chairs changes the way children are carried and transported, not having carpets changes how comfortable you are leaving your child alone in another room, or the simple fact of living in a smaller house.  So we learn as we go, we ask questions, we adjust, we recalculate.  However one thing both our cultures agree on,  raising Joshua with Biblical principle.  No matter what adjustments are made, this will always be the foundation.  And prayer...lots and lots of prayer, because I know we will NEVER be perfect parents, thank goodness Joshua has a perfect Heavenly Father.   

Its only just now that the "parenting" I feel is starting.  Everyone in the early days asked me "how do you like being a mom?" 

"Its great" I would say but I was also thinking, that I have not really done much parenting yet. Those first few months were mainly focused on keeping him alive and well while loving him more and more each day.  I remember that first night after Joshua was born, sleeping in the clinic.  I barely slept as I kept suddenly waking up to make sure he was still breathing.  The next few months when we brought him home, I was terrified of SIDs I fussed with his beddings making sure the firmness was just right, and I would often put my hand on his stomach throughout the night to assure myself he was breathing well.  When we got to 6 months I felt like I could breath easier, We had made it to 6 months and he was alive and healthy! I always thought that 6 month birthdays for babies were so silly but I get it now, its not for the baby, its for the parents, "6 months of being parents and we haven't dramatically messed up or dropped him!!! Bring on the cake!!"

Now that Joshua is crawling everywhere and really developing his personality the time has come. That moment; the moment I was expecting, and kind of dreading at the same time, the first time you have to say "No".  Somehow I had it in my head that, that is when parenting was really going to kick in, The time we begin helping him make good decisions, and guiding him towards the right paths (we hope and pray) from not touching hot stoves to guiding him to the best college courses, somehow that seems to coincide with the word "No".   Joshua trying to plug something in "No" we say firmly followed by a whimper and a cry, Joshua trying to put his fingers into the fan, a big "No" more crying and whimpering.  and so it begins..... 

So life continues, seasons change, summer (Hottest season) runs into rainy season (Hot season) which runs into typhoon seasons or the "ber" months (lesser hot season) and Christmas, I always love Christmas, no matter where I am, and we already have our tree up and preparing for more Christmas lights (Christmas starts early here, much to me joy).  Joshua's first Birthday is next month and we are planning a celebration of some kind, its hard to believe it has been a year since he came into this world! We thank you all for your prayers for our family, God is good and He is our strength!

Well that's all from the good Aggs for now,  until next time....

 

How we say goodbye

 

The following story is about the wake and funeral of Nestor's younger brother, as well as my observations of grieving in the Philippines

 How We Say Goodbye

Jimmy’s funeral and my thoughts on wakes and grieving in the Philippines and Kalingan culture

 “Jimmy is Going”

“Hon, Jimmy is going,” my husband said gravely from the other room, holding our 5 month old Joshua, while I finished the dishes before we both planned to go to work.  He had just received a text from a family member.

“Oh no.” I responded suddenly.  The night before we had just been talking hopeful words, Maybe he would be healed, maybe he would recover. Jimmy is Nestor’s younger brother. He had kidney problems and had been on dialysis for 6 years.  Like all dialysis patients in the Philippines (and there are a lot) the dialysis only seems to give an extension of a few years….but when it’s your loved one you always hope they will live longer than the usual life expectancy.

“Should I pack I bag?” I asked, the practical side of me kicking in.

“Yes,” he said, equally as practical but with a heaviness in his voice.  

“Alright I will just finish the dishes.” But before I could, a message was received that Jimmy was in fact gone. Sadness came over me and I finished the last dish and wiped the counter.  I knew what the following days would bring and there would be no chance to clean anything in the house for at least two days.  I went to my husband while he stood rocking our son and could see the sadness on his face. I hugged him and he hugged me back with his free arm.  

When someone dies in this culture, things begin to happen in seconds. It’s this unique kind of energy of both purpose and grief chasing each other. 

I began throwing things in a bag blindly until I finally took a breath and realized I needed to focus or we were going to end up with all shirts and no pants! I could hear my husband’s deep sighs in the other room as I arranged what we would need for the next two days and two nights, while he carried the baby.  The cat was given extra food. Baby’s things checked.  Messages sent to the right people explaining why we would not be in work.  A message came in from Ellora (my friend/ministry partner/lives in Nestor’s home village) 

“I just heard. I am so sorry.  Victor, (her husband) has gone up to help set up the tent, people are starting to gather.” 

We drove straight to the hospital.  We walked to the outdoor waiting area and paused. I had the baby in my arms and knew he shouldn’t go inside but sensed maybe I should go. I looked around and a neighbor of the family was sitting there and motioned for me to give him the baby. He took the baby with a smile and motioned me forward.  Together, Nestor and I went to where the family was and where the body of my brother-in-law lay covered with a sheet, only his feet exposed.  Nestor stood still at the end of the bed for a moment taking it in and I, right behind him.  His other two brothers were there, our father and a great aunt.  A niece who had been there all night was sniffling with red eyes. She asked where Joshua was, and I motioned towards the outside.  She immediately got up and went outside.  The funeral home services arrived then and soon had the body in the hearse.  We headed outside. Our niece had Joshua in her arms lifting him in the air.  Her tears had dried.  Quick arrangements were made in the family’s dialect. The two brothers followed the hearse to the funeral home.  A niece had already stayed behind to sort out the medical bill.  Our father, aunt and niece squished in the back of our car and we headed to Pakak where the two day wake would begin. 

 Wakes and Beginning to Grieve

In the Philippines, multiple day long wakes are the norm.  The only time this was not the case was during Covid which wreaked havoc on the mourning culture in the country.  Cremation is not at all popular. Being able to grieve over the physical body is an important part of the grieving process. Although I had attended a wake here and there over the years, the first time I witnessed the full experience was when a church member passed away and an eight day wake proceeded in the church.  Wakes typically last between 3-8 days.  This depends on the culture. However, for example, in Nestor’s culture the wakes last only two days and two nights.  

We arrived in Pakak. One tent was already set up and another was in the process. People had begun to gather at the family’s little house.  The house itself had already been cleared and swept to make room for guests and the coffin, however it was soon decided that the church (which stands right next to the house) could be used to hold the coffin and the grievers, as well as the donations box and book.  During the duration of the wake, family and friends will all donate to the bereaved family.  These expenses help cover the food costs and sometimes even the medical bill costs of the deceased. Coffee started to flow, and cups and dishes began to appear out of what seemed like nowhere.  My mother-in-law was often surrounded by her peers.  The grief was written on her face and features.  The Kalingan tribe does not express emotion in a way that perhaps north Americans are used to. I have very rarely seen the Kalingan tribesmen and women cry;  not that they do not feel emotion at all.  I think it is more that it is not dwelt on or made the focus of everyday life.  Life is hard and one must be resilient and strong-minded to survive.  The point is, it was the first time I had seen sadness written on the features of my husband’s family.  My family continued to busy themselves, with preparing extension cords, making coffee, sitting with friends among other activities.  That’s another thing that might seem strange to a westerner; the family of the deceased keeps busy, whether running around to make sure there is food for guests or doing the dishes or serving coffee.  Usually it’s the other way around in the western culture.  But I found from a first-hand experience this brings with it a strange kind of comfort.

 Serving Through Your Grief

Several years previous, Chery’s father passed away suddenly from a stroke.  I felt this loss, as I had come to know her father well, and he had done everything he could to make me feel a part of their family.  When I received the news in the middle of the night, I wasn’t sure how to direct my grief, which may seem strange, but grief is strange. The next morning I went downstairs where activity was happening all around me.  I turned to Cheryl’s husband Rod, who was busy in the kitchen and asked “What can I do?” He told me they would need my wheels. So for 5 days (which is how many days the family decided to have the wake) I drove. The family would hand me money for gas and I would drive.  I would drive to pick up or drop people off, pick up food, take someone to buy something.  You name it, I drove it, and it helped.  At the time I didn’t think I could just sit. As I drove and served, I grieved.  I slowly came to terms that he was truly gone.  On the last day of the wake I was ready to cry and let go.  Now I recognize that I was not a close family member and had only known him for a little over a year.  But I could see how literally working through grief helped with coping.  I was not ignoring the grief. After all, the reason why I was so busy was because he was no longer with us.  It gave me something tangible and purposeful despite the sadness.  I came to think of this as serving through your grief.   

 Acceptance of Death

The mourning family members go in different directions but then find moments to sit still as needed.  At one point Nestor gathered 3 year old Isabella, a young niece who Jimmy helped his sister raise after her husband passed away. Nestor explained to Isabella that she would be seeing her uncle Jimmy in a box and what all that meant.  You could see her mind trying to understand what that all meant.  Later in the day Nestor asked her older brother Irwin, aged 5, if he knew where his uncle Jimmy was and he very calmly answered,  “He is in heaven,  it is good he is there, so that he can rest.” 

One of the fascinating things I have sometimes observed in the Kalingan culture is the acceptance of death as part of life.  There could be so many reasons for that.  But perhaps one of them is that death is not shielded from children.  Children attend wake. They see the bodies in the coffin and understand what death is from an early age. People may differ from their opinions on how much children should be exposed to death.  But in the history of the Kalingan culture, life was hard, good medical care was only for those who could afford it, (this is still true today) mothers lost babies very commonly.  Children died of diseases like typhoid.  Death is something that happens a lot in these cultures and if it is not accepted one would be torn up with grief or afraid all the time. 

The Mourners 

  As the morning turned into afternoon we got word that the funeral hearse was on the way.  Here in the Philippines, the body is cared for by professionals at a funeral service and laid in a coffin chosen by the family.  Glass is then overlaid between the body and the lid of the coffin.  This allows for preservation of the body so it can be viewed appropriately.  The lid is left open for the duration of the wake, morning and night.  One person must always stay near the body.  The first time I heard of this practice, it was from another Canadian missionary whose mother had passed away in the Philippines and they had a Philippine-style funeral.  She told me, “It was so comforting to always have someone with the body.”   I have often thought about this and asked the question: Why? Why is it comforting?  A western Christian may argue that as Christians, we know that the body is just that, there is no soul there anymore, their soul is in Heaven.  So why should we feel that someone should stay by the body?  I am no psychologist or an anthropologist, however by powers of observation I think that everyone recognizes this; we know that the body is not our loved one. But I think our emotions need to catch up to our mind. Our emotions need time to come to terms that our loved one is no longer here on earth or in this body.  We need time to accept this.  And while our hearts work to let go, it is comforting to be near the last thing (their physical being) that was them. 

The funeral procession arrived. I watched from a window in the church while holding Joshua.  I watched my husband and his brothers carry the body of their little brother into the church building for the last time.  His mother calmly brought a chair near the coffin and sat down.  Then she allowed her grief to flow through her whole being as she called out his name and mourned openly.  I observed how no one ran to her side to hold her or comfort her in the way a westerner might expect.  They gave her space and let her wail.  I actually thought it quite beautiful.  No one thought it embarrassing or awkward. She was simply given physical and emotional space to let all of her grief out. 

There is always a principal mourner or mourners for the deceased. If they have left a spouse behind it will be their widow or widower who has a chair by their side.  If they have no living spouse, then it would be their children. And if they had not married then usually their mother.  Our mother therefore would be the one to be beside him for the duration of the wake; only leaving to eat and for other necessities.  If she had to leave, then an aunt would take her place.  When people came to pay their respects they would always make sure to greet her and give her condolences or even visit with her for a while.  Usually there was a circle near her of other ladies, showing their support. They stayed near her and the coffin all night.  

The World Stops 

My sister in Canada full of intrigue asked me, “So you just sit around and talk about Jimmy for two days?”  Well not necessarily. Everyone talks about everything. Often it would start off with what happened and the circumstances of his death but topics might take on a range.  People will also come and  they come for a few hours, go home then return later, or if they live outside the village they will come for a part of a day or for an hour or two. The point is that the whole community stops for the family.  In these tribal cultures it stops even to the point where no celebration can take place during those days or shortly after the burial of someone from the community.  

Just a few months ago, a friend of mine had to postpone her entire wedding because a neighbor had passed away and it would have been against cultural practices and disrespectful to have a celebration when a family was grieving in the nearby community.  People will leave work and travel far to attend the wakes.  One couple who came to the wake of Jimmy is  good friends of my father-in-law.  They live a day's travel away and when the man got the news of Jimmy’s passing, he felt sad but figured he could not travel that distance to attend.  But on his way to work that morning, his conscience weighed so heavily on him, he turned around to go back to his house to prepare to come.  People in other tribes of my family, as soon as they heard the news, stopped everything, loaded people into trucks, jeeps and tuktuks and traveled 4 or more hours to attend even just half a day of the wake.  I have always found this comforting.  When my sister was sick and in the hospital, I was afraid we were going to lose her.  I remember feeling frustrated that the world continued moving. And, I have heard grieving families express this also;  that they wish the world would stop.  In this culture it does.  At least for a few days in the  community, it doesn’t matter if they were a pastor, or the local drunk, everyone stops to grieve with the family.   

Services and Saying Goodbye 

Each night there was a service.  I didn’t attend these as Joshua would be asleep by then, so I would take him to bed where we were staying with my brother and sister-in- law.  Some wakes have more than just one service per day.  At Chery’s father's funeral there were sometimes three in a day! This was unusual, however, since he was a very well respected pastor and had founded many churches in the area,  every church that had been touched by him wanted a chance to share.  It is common for some wakes to have singing or little services in addition to the nightly ones. However, In my husband’s tribe the wakes are much simpler and nightly services are typically sufficient in addition to the final service at the time of the burial. 

The two days were beginning to feel like a whole week.  I felt tired but also deeply appreciative of this wonderful community. I was also feeling closer to my Kalingan family.  Joshua was such a good little boy. He was passed around to everyone, making people smile and spreading joy.  Often I wasn’t sure where he was, but knew that some cousin or aunty would be holding him somewhere.  When you have a baby in this culture you need to accept that the whole village will be involved in his childcare.

  The day of the burial arrived and a wonderful service took place where each sibling could say something as well as the parents and some nieces. There were tears, which showed the deep love for their beloved brother, son and uncle.  Then everyone had the last viewing.  Isabella’s mother brought her to “say goodbye to her uncle Jimmy” (that nearly broke me).  The lid was closed and once again his brothers carried him out of the church and into the hearse.  The community followed behind to the cemetery.  I was fully expecting we would go too but my husband turned to me and said “We won’t go.” Surprised, I asked why and he said it was too hot and then a little quieter  “and maybe it will be very emotional.”  So we all sat together as a family for a while in the calm after the storm. I looked at my mother-in law and her face now held peace instead of grief. 

Mourning in the Light

This was not the first time I had seen such a transformation.  As mentioned, I had witnessed an 8 day wake several years before.  The man, although older, had passed away suddenly and of course it hit his beloved wife so very hard. The first day her whole being was grief stricken, her family even guiding her to the table to eat, but by the 8th day, hope was in her features. She was lighter and looked stronger.  I have often wondered, how does that happen? Was there something about the longer wakes that seemed to bring on such a transformation so soon? Other times I have observed widows or mothers who seem to re-cover faster than I expected from grief than one might in North America. I have not lost someone that close to me so I can’t really speak with certainty to it at this point.  But I sometimes wonder if it has something to do with the way you are surrounded during the intense initial grief in the Filipino culture versus the Western culture.  You are never allowed to be alone, which again to a westerner, where we love our privacy, might seem awful.  But here I find it seems to force the griever to stay in the land of the living rather than shrink into the despair of sadness. It forces them to be around life instead of dwelling on the death. Oh you mourn that is for sure, but you are not allowed to mourn by yourself, you mourn in the light rather than mourning in the dark. 

Thankfulness and Tomorrow’s Hope

Jimmy was put to rest before lunch. That night we had the final community meal.  Not all Filipino cultures do this, but the Butbut tribe does. A huge meal was prepared, and community members came to help.  This meal held less grief and more hope.  Everyone sat around visiting and eating fried pork fat and drinking more coffee or coke. Large portions of meat were skewered on a stick,  then each portion was given to the community members who had either helped during the wake or walked behind the funeral procession.  It’s a way to thank the community.  I had never seen that at the other wakes I had attended.  This seemed specific to tribal cultures.  I thought it was such a beautiful thing that even in grief there is thankfulness.  It is such a Biblical principle to give to others in thankfulness even if we are the ones suffering. 

The next day was a new day.  Life would begin again, a new normal without Jimmy. There would still be moments of sadness and grief but we were so thankful that as Christian we knew where he was; he had just “gone on ahead,” as I hear it sometimes phrased.  Tomorrow is Hope because in the Christian life it is never goodbye for ever, just goodbye till we meet again. 

Introduction to The Good Aggs

Hello everyone, my name is Vienna Helen-Marie Moilliet Anggowos (ang-goo-wose).  I am married to a wonderful husband Nestor Anggowos and we have a handsome baby boy named Joshua Ernesto.  I am a full time Missionary here in Kalinga Philippines, working with an organization that I co-founded with two other partners that help girls who have been abused neglected or abandoned.  I have another blog The sheepishmidwife  which has my whole back story so no need to go into all that.  My husband is a Pastor who is a Kalingan tribesman, he has done all sorts of pastoring and local mission work over the years. Currently he rotates preaching at different churches while working on an oral Bible translation into one of the local dialects.  Our family is unique. We are not your typical missionary family where both parents are from the same country but working in a foreign one nor are we an immigrant family, we are something in between.  We are A Canadian, A Filipino, A son with a little of both, Missionaries and Pastors Living life and Loving God.  Oh and then there is the cat.   So if you are interested...join us in the adventure!   Who knows what will happen next.....