There’s something about the way this afternoon is spread out all grey and misty over the valley that makes me homesick. Maybe it’s the mountains sitting silent behind the fog, so different than the rolling plains of the central Carolinas. Or maybe it’s just that we’ve been in Papua New Guinea for four months now, […]
“What did you eat for breakfast?” My friend Gina looked quizzically at my mouth. We had arrived at church a little early, a rare occurrence, clean and combed and dressed in our best for our first Ukarumpa Sunday service. The day before I had bought a bag of mints in town, which was my first
They prayed for us at church this morning. We stood there under the spotlight and in front of the eyes, the missionary family ready to move to Papua New Guinea in just two weeks. And afterwards, as I hugged a good friend one last time and my throat burned thick with choked-back tears, a few
“Are you afraid of losing your identity?” My counselor asked me this the other day. (I’ve been in counseling for the last few months. Shadows from the past and other nasty things have a way of surfacing during transition…) I didn’t quite know what she meant, so I sat quiet for a minute and
Breakfast had to wait. She wore a tutu, and the song was perfect, she said. Her little legs stretched and stooped as she twirled wide, palms flung high. She knew this moment was one that needed to be celebrated, felt strong. My little one lives unafraid. I have a friend who lives this way,
Risking it all for Jesus… I’ve heard this phrase tossed around in Christian circles. It sounds exciting. Bold. Holy. The problem is that it’s simply not true. I would even say it might be dangerous. “Risking it all” makes it sound like some of us are the spiritual high rollers, while everybody else is
Dear friend, You sat on my couch the other day and said it’s too much. You said it with red eyes and deep breaths, and the others of us in the room breathed deep and teared up, too. Because we know. You and I, my friend, we’re in the same boat. We’re living in the
It’s November. The leaves have changed, and so have our four walls. Our renters are moving into our house as I write this, and we sit snug and warm in the little apartment that will be our home until we move to Papua New Guinea in two months. Life looks different than it did
The thing about packing up a house is that all kinds of stuff surfaces. Long-neglected dust bunnies, dried bits of food on couch cushions, old letters and hard memories. I have to be honest here. I’m all for a good soul cleansing, but when it comes in the middle of trying to get rid