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Lessons from a Rain Tank

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 It’s the rainy season here in Papua New Guinea. Most afternoons are filled with torrential rains that go straight through until the early hours of morning, from October or November until May or June. So, I was steadily chugging away with lavish dish rinsing, normal loads of laundry, and copious amounts of cooking and drinking water. Until, one fateful Friday afternoon, I turned on the faucet to prep things for dinner and was met with a cough, a splutter and spitting brown water. The water pump ran and ran and seemed to be struggling. It had to either be the water pump or my rain tank. I ran out to the rain tank and knocked in its sides. Sure enough, it resounded hollow and empty right down to its base. It was the rain tank. Empty. I was stuck, boiling and filtering every drop of water, from brushing my teeth to rinsing my dishes, and everything in between. For. Three. Long. Weeks. my water for a few weeks. It was grey or brown most of the time.  You’re probably wondering what happened
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Hangamap Long Diwai (Caught on a Tree)

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 After a long day at the clinic I shuffled over to my car. It was late and I was really tired and ready to just be home. My mind was full of all the things I needed to do and all the things I needed to decide. I turned on my little car and turned to pull out of the dirt circular drive/parking area near the clinic, when, whump! I found I couldn't go forward and couldn't go backward. I sighed, putting the car into park and climbing out my door. I bent down and discovered, much to my chagrine, that my little tiny car, with about as much ground clearance as a low-riding golf cart had gotten stuck on a tree stump. There I was, my car dangling on a hidden tree stump I hadn't seen and I was powerless to move it. Just as I was about to give up and leave the car for the night and call for help in the morning, a bunch of my friends walked by. "Wanem samting? ( what's going on?)" they asked?  " Kar bilong mi hangamap long diwai ( My car is caught on a tree)."
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Brokenness, Hope, and the Now and Not Yet

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Moonrise near my home       I stood in the shower, in the first truly hot shower I’ve had in over a week, the seeping cold slowly melting from my body. Words kept forming on my lips and in my heart in prayer for the twin baby who was rushed to the hospital today. The other twin died the day before yesterday and now the second was in unstable condition at a hospital about 30 minutes away. The babies are relatives of a dear friend and my heart broke in unintelligible words in the shower. It had been a rough day. One woman was brought in without a pulse and it became evident shortly into the resuscitation that she was too far gone. At the same time another baby was fighting for its life hooked to tubes and fluid bags, its fearful mother watching with wide silent eyes as staff worked on her little one.      Less than a month back to my Pacific island home and the black wall of suffering has already slapped me full in the face. The haunting reality of our broken world and the faintly glimme
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A Creepy Crawly Welcome

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  Asiatic rhinoceros beetle  Flicking on the light I walked down the stairs to my basement. I had only been home for a few minutes but wanted to check the house and see what I’d need to do to get it into shape after my long absence. The upstairs was clean and tidy and ready for me to start unpacking and the whole house had been cleaned a couple of weeks before. I went down the stairs and turned the corner. I pulled up short. There if front of me was the huge inverted corpse of a spider, curled legs frozen and dangling in the web of another spider. The dead spider was at least an inch across and had to have been quite big when it was alive. Taking a broom from the wall, I poked at the dead spider, just reassuring myself that it was indeed dead. I shuddered and stepped around the web, making a mental note to clear away the cobwebs downstairs as one of my first chores. I’d only gone a step or two when I stumbled on a rhinoceros beetle that was struggling on its back. It angrily flailed it
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God is Moving in Papua New Guinea

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 Hey All,  I have a blog post brewing (stay tuned), but I wanted to share this amazing blog post from the Wycliffe Bible Translators website (see link below). It is about a good Papua New Guinean friend of mine who is also a Bible translator and how she is seeing the power of God's Word in the language that speaks to people's hearts in her home area. It's super encouraging and only takes a few minutes to read. I hope you enjoy it!  Christ Follower,  Megan For the full blog (not just my teaser photo above), just click this link: https://wycliffe.org/invest/open-hearts?utm_source=don8print&utm_medium=appeal&utm_campaign=openhearts0523
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Lessons From My Nephew

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I woke up this morning and immediately missed him. My little nephew. My mind raced to the comfort of Mark 10: 29-30, “ “I tell you the truth,” Jesus replied, “ no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields, and with them persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life”.” You see, I just had the opportunity to meet my nephew in person for the first time. I’d been seeing photos and videos of him since his birth almost a year ago. But now I had met him. 8 short, precious days that will have to tide me over for two and a half years. The price of following Jesus felt heavy when I woke up this morning, and the cross of the gospel especially painful. I had to cling to Jesus’ promise that it will be worth every moment of pain. As I sat and had my devotions, still applying the balm of Jesus’ words to my achi
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The Transition Jitters of a Globe Trotter

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  Morobe Province on the way to Lae, Papua New Guinea 2022 There’s something about moving back and forth across the globe every few years that makes a person feel pretty vulnerable. You surrender your job, your house, your keys, your friends and rhythms and you feel, somehow, that you’ve surrendered your identity as well. You’re bare and defenseless with nothing but your suitcases and a flimsy plan that can go bottom up at the slightest provocation until you reach the other end of what a friend of mine calls “the travel tunnel”.  A friend asked me today how I was feeling about going to the USA for furlough, and about my experiences with God or friends right now. I launched into my long list of to-dos that were done or not done, work tasks, ministry wrap ups, etc… Then she asked me, “but how are you feeling? ” That pulled me up short. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m pretty task oriented. Often, when I’m in a season of transition like this I like to keep the door between me and my emo
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