Purpose Asia

Art Credit: Aardman Animations You may not know this, but sometimes spoken American English is very different from the spoken English used elsewhere in the world. In fact, since moving overseas, I spend more time around those who use what’s known as Commonwealth English, than those that use American English. You can image my challenge then when I came back to the USA and was all mixed up. It was once again “ground beef” not “mince”. Someone was wearing “pants” instead of, “trousers”. You go to “college” not “University” or “Uni” for short. And you take a “vacation” instead of “going on holiday." I felt like I was in an episode of that silly claymation series Wallace and Gromit when Wallace wails to his dog, “It’s the wrong trousers, Gromit!” Some days, my English is not the only thing that seems and feels different. I struggle to remember things that should be innate to me as an American and I either don’t remember or it takes me a long time. However, it does remind me of a sp...

Gossamer cathedrals drape from post to post, festooned with crystal dew drops. Mist curls up between tall spires capped with a cacophony of greens. Across my path sprawls a riot of orange sentinels, nodding their heads at me in the morning gold. Life. It drips from every leaf and petal and stalk and fills the blue air with its heady perfume.  Today I was listening to the Psalms as I got ready for work and my heart and mind were arrested by Psalm 8. “Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory in the heavens. Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger. When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place. What is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? You have made them a little lower than the angels and crowned them w...

Mt. Hood in Oregon I sighed and closed my eyes. Although the tension had been draining from my knotted shoulders for a couple of weeks I could feel the old familiar twinge cramping it's fingers around my muscles. I should write. I should say something. I should introspect and find something profound to say, something profound to think. I should really be thinking more intentionally about where I've been and where I'm going as I transition from Papua New Guinea back to the USA. I breathe again, slowly pulling air into my nose and forcing it out of my mouth between pursed lips. So complicated. How do I begin to unravel the last few years and my first term as a missionary in Papua New Guinea? How can I even begin to contemplate what the next, few brief months will bring before I start my second term? How do I even start to process them both and describe them both and share them both? I want to, I just don't know how. So, here I sit, writing about how I don't kn...

"Lone Tree" hill near where I live Clouds pile up against the shoulders of the mountains. The rippling call and response of the unique birds of this country pierce the early evening. The scent of bananas mingles with cooking fires and the earthy, moist clay of the dirt roads. I breathe it all in, stop and try to taste it, to live it, to truly see it and hold it in my mind’s eye. Then I realize it; I’m trying to say goodbye while at the same time, I’m trying to prepare myself to say hello. For over four years I have lived here in Papua New Guinea. It has become my home. I have chosen to immerse myself in its people, its culture, its food, its life. I have become a different woman. No longer fully American, neither have I fully become Papua New Guinean. I have learned to love this country and its people. I’ve also mourned with them, rejoiced with them, and rise and fall with them to a certain extent. They’ve become my family, my friends, my mentors and spiritual le...

Waves of memories washed over me. The smell had snapped me back like a time machine to the little sink in the entry to the dining hall. Suddenly, I could hear the chaos of over 30 men, women and children awaiting their food. I could feel the heat and humidity run their clammy fingers down my spine in rivulets of sweat. I felt the raw excitement, adventure, apprehension and loneliness all over again. All at once, I was under a bucket shower, cooking over a fire, processing sago, swimming in the ocean, dancing under the stars, wondering what life held next when life already felt so full. I opened my eyes and twisted the sink knobs. I looked down at my dripping hands as I slowly returned to the present. The scent of soap had sent me tumbling into the past. And, oh, how much had changed since that moment at the sink; that stepping onto a plane to go away from all I’d ever known to step off again in the place I thought held all that I would become. Memory is a funny thing. I...

Sunrise in Madang, Papua New Guinea The hills are wrapped in a soft grey shroud of mist from the coming night. The sun sets, bringing the heat of the day down to a pleasantly sultry warmth. I stare out my window as the sun sets and I think. I think about how incredible it is that I am here.  There have been days that I’ve struggled here, I mean really struggled. Days when discouragement and doubt definitely had the upper hand, and faith and joy were definitely trying to make a comeback. Tonight, my mind was pulled back to one of those times a few months ago. I was going through a particularly rough stretch of discouragement and felt more like David writing the psalms in the caves on the run, rather than triumphantly, in confident victory, from his throne. Around this time, I went to visit my best national friend here. She and I chatted for a while about life, about her kids, and about her concerns and prayer requests. Then, she turned to me and asked, “what ...