"Home"

Taking off from the airstrip near Ukararumpa 

Tendrils of cloud wrapped around the bony shoulders of the hills like a cotton wool shawl. Tiny villages teetered on sharp ridges that leapt down to deep shadowed ravines below. Early morning mist and fog had crept along the ground and swirled around our rumbling Kodiak plane as we sat on the dirt airstrip waiting for takeoff. As I looked across the field to the surrounding hills I saw a thin shaft of sunlight caressing the hill and trees overlooking the airfield. This is my home, I thought, with its casava and coffee, cicadas and mud, mist and mystery. My heart ached. I already missed my new home and I hadn't even left yet. I was leaving and I didn't know when I'd return. An urgent family emergency had called me back to the USA and I sat in the murky uncertainty of the future, much like the clouds that covered the runway. I hoped that my unknowns would dissipate much as the clouds began to dissipate and the engine of the Kodiak roared to life as it raced down the runway. 

The mountains typical of PNG

We took off and I looked down to see the knotted hills and mountains coiled around each other in tortuous heaps. They were clothed in mantles of deep green jungle, dotted with landslides, gardens and tiny dwellings huddled together in clearings. The pink sunrise lit the clouds with brilliant light and turned the sky yellow and silver. It was ethereal to say the least. There's something about flying in small aircraft that makes you acutely aware of how small and frail existence is and how vast is creation. As we neared Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea I watched the multitude of waterways rush headlong toward the sea in a sluggish river glutted with the waters from hill country. The river had strangled itself in several places along its serpentine path leaving oxbow lakes and swirled grassy strips. Refracted light painted rainbows on the clouds hanging bellow the belly of the plane. Red dirt roads forged through dense verdant jungle muscling their way to towns and villages connected by a web of tracks and trails. Soon I would leave my new home. Just a few hours stood between me and my flight back to the USA. I felt so torn. Now my home was in two places: The USA and Papua New Guinea (PNG).

The rivers nearing the sea
near Port Moreseby

God had done it. He'd answered my prayers to knit my heart with PNG and its people. He'd given me friends and family to help fill the void of those I'd left behind. He'd put me in a place where I could use my skills as a nurse to alleviate human suffering but also share the good news about Jesus and how He set us free through Bible translation. Now, I was heading into the unknown. However, God had a few more tricks up His sleeve. As I waited at the airport I struck up conversation with a few Papua New Guinean security guards. As we chatted back and forth in Tok Pisin (the trade language of much of PNG) they suddenly asked me, "How long have you been in PNG?"
"About six months." I replied.
The man I was talking with jumped and said as he laughed in unbelief, "You sound like you're from PNG."
I laughed too and thought to myself how grateful I was that God has been helping me so much in PNG. But more than that, that He would encourage me before I had even left PNG that I would return. He'd given me a love for PNG, had helped me learn the language well, and had helped me start building strong relationships with relative ease with my new Papua New Guinean acquaintances. I stepped onto the plane for Australia knowing that day that I was only going to leave for a short time to go home because my real home would be behind me, in the land of the unexpected.

The gardens on the hills surrounding Ukarumpa near the air field