Real Conversations

In a place like Papua New Guinea, where there are very few roads because of harsh terrain and travelling any distance can be quite dangerous, an airplane makes a huge difference. We know this is true. We have researched the country, shared statistics during presentations,  and lived here for two years. Even so, while the pilots are in the air, the stories happening on the ground as a result of their flying can go unnoticed. A pilot may not realize that the flight they just completed made the difference between life and death. They may not know why each of their passengers was travelling or what each piece of cargo would be used for. Each story offers new insight and adds to our picture of the joys and struggles of life in "the bush." 

While a friend, who is one of Brandon's regular passengers, was on break, I (Nellicia) had the opportunity to look through her eyes to see the impact of weekly health patrol teams on remote villages. As a Health Extension Officer (HEO), she is responsible for attending to patients and offering relevant educational sessions for the village. I learned that their job requires patience with community members, creativity with supplies, and a certain kind of grit -- but also that it results in communities becoming more health-aware and lives being saved.

One story that repeats itself often when seeing a new patient:

HEO: "Hello, what problem are you having?"

Patient: "I am sick."

HEO: "Okay, where are you feeling sick?"

Patient: "I am feeling sick."

HEO: "Where are you feeling sick? Your head, your stomach, or something else?"

Patient: "Yes, I am sick."

HEO: "Can somebody find a translator here that understands English?

A response to a question about accommodation for the health teams in the village:

"It depends on the village. Sometimes they build a place for us to stay, usually a bigger bush hut. If they don't build a place for us then they usually send people out of their homes while we are there so we can use their house. Sometimes they bring us fresh vegetables from their garden, but usually we have to go find some food and use the supplies we've taken along. Patients will come see us until dark (we can't see patients after dark because there is no light), but then we need to go collect wood to start a fire and cook our food. We don't usually sleep very good because the beds they make are just wooden boards that are very uneven, so we put a yoga mat on top and try to sleep."

When I asked if she is ever afraid on patrols:

"Usually we are fine. There is one area that is not good, because it has gangs in the area. Usually the worst villages are also in a black spot with no connection, so I really don't like going there. I get worried that if a gang comes we will be completely on our own and just have to run and hide in the bush, since my team only has women."

The power of shame and fear coming through when we discussed their focus of health education:

"Now it is just snake bites, snake bites, snake bites. We are making sure that every village has a pressure bandage and teaching them how to respond to a snake bite. They think that if they walk loudly the snake won't bite them, but I don't trust that."

Have there been a lot of snake bites recently?

"Yes, plenty. Just last month there was a twelve year old boy in a village who was playing soccer with his friends. The ball went into the long grass so he went to get it and a snake bit him. He was afraid to tell anyone that the snake bit him, so he kept playing soccer. That is the worst thing to do, because if you are running around the venom spreads more quickly through your body. He went home and was feeling a bit sick that night. His parents noticed he was sick but didn't think too much of it. The next morning his body was starting to get paralyzed. He must have told one of his friends about the snake because a friend told the parents that he was bit by a snake. The village didn't have any anti-venom so they contacted our health teams in Balimo. We told them to put the boy in a boat and start down the river towards Balimo, and a health team took their supplies and also started boating to meet them. At this point, the paralysis was already affecting his breathing. As soon as the boats met they moved the boy to the health team's boat and tried to start treating him in the middle of the river. They had trouble getting the canula in to administer the anti-venom because his veins were collapsing. He died in the boat. 

"If he had just told someone that he was bit by a snake and stopped playing soccer, he would have been able to get anti-venom in time. But he was afraid that his parents would be angry, so he didn't tell, and it cost him his life."

It is hard hearing stories like this. Sometimes I feel like it would be easier to not hear them, and I hesitate to share them. But they speak volumes to the culture of these villages, in which shame and fear are powerful forces. Even though most of these communities would have a Christian church and give themselves a Christian label, fear is a driving force in many of their lives. Fear of bringing a curse on the family, of having interacted with a bad spirit, or even just the fear of disobeying a father or husband. The work of the health teams is a step towards eradicating the fear of curses and spirits by teaching how sicknesses spread, how proactive treatment can prevent death, and that the causes of illness are physical, not demonic. And the reason that we are here is the hope that this stronghold of fear will be replaced with the "peace of God, which passeth all understanding, [which] shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

Though I am intrigued by these stories which tell so much about the place we are living in, my time with this friend was not spent asking questions about her work. We made music together and read stories and painted together with our kids. She showed me how she was making her bilum (a PNG string bag) and I taught her how to bake bread. It is in these simple moments spent together that real conversations happen.

With time, the people we have been getting to know for the past year are losing their self-consciousness around us. Instead of a question being met with a short, awkward response, I am now getting honest responses and questions in return. Sometimes these real conversations are more difficult to have, since it means I have to come to terms with realities that were first understood only in the third person. Some things are easier to think of when they relate to strangers but become more difficult to process when we are discussing the reality of our friends, neighbours, and youth that have a special place in our lives. 

Even though many of the realities and hardships in Papua New Guinea won't disappear in the time that we are here, our purpose in serving here isn't primarily about ending TB, eradicating malaria, or solving the problems of domestic violence. Our hope above all else, is that we can show a way of peace that has the power to break down any stronghold of fear. We know that those who find Christ cannot be separated from his love, whatever their situation in life might be. Whether they are people that we know or others living in the villages we are serving, they too can be conquerors through Christ. There are none too far from Him. 

"Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:37-39

 

Rooted

I think that Balimo will be our kids' first memory of home. Even though Nova was almost two and a half by the time we moved here, it struck me again today how unsettled and constantly changing our life has been in the past few years. We've only been living in Balimo for nine months -- and still, it feels more like home than any other place I can imagine right now. We're definitely growing roots here by establishing relationships, building friendships, and developing routines of life. 

Our mornings at home usually start with the same barrage of questions: "Mom, is Agi Jackie coming today? Where is she now? Is she walking? Can I look to see if I can see her on the road?" As long as Jackie is around, Nova is her faithful companion; if Jackie is sweeping, Nova will find a broom to sweep. If Jackie is pulling out weeds, Nova will be pulling weeds (or picking flowers). If Jackie arrives in a blue shirt, Nova will come to me with the first blue shirt she can find, in need of an urgent change of clothes. It is great to see how well Jackie responds to both kids, and their excitement about her provides me some time to work on unfinished or new projects. We are so grateful for everything that she does!

It is great to see Nova connecting so well with another adult, but it has always been a priority for us that our children have the opportunity to play and build friendships with other kids. When we were asked if we would be willing to serve in a remote location in PNG, our answer was "Yes, so long as there will be other kids for our kids to play with." We were assured that in a country like this, there are always kids around -- and while that is true, it can be difficult for expatriate kids to connect deeply with local kids. 

Our children, on various levels, grow up as a novelty. Their hair gets touched with curiosity, and they are pointed at from across the street when out on a walk. Everything that they do in public is given special attention, and if they try to play with others they are catered to and given preference with every move they make. If they even begin to say the words "I want," someone will be listening eagerly to grant their request. The interactions are strange to watch, but in the first few months of our time in Balimo, this was reality for Nova. As we passed the three month mark in our new home, I realized that while everyone knew our names, we really hadn't formed any natural relationships. 

So began my quest to create an environment in which the priority for our family was actually put into action. We started by walking around the area with a ball, calling kids down from their houses to play. After several weeks of making our rounds, we started to get to know some of the local children and their families a bit better. Once that happened, it opened the door to start inviting friends to play at our house. With time and repetition, I could see the shift of perception: Nova was first identified by her skin colour, then by the toys that she had, and finally as just another kid. It seemed that each relationship went through these stages, but with time and persistence she has been developing real friendships. It is so rewarding to see her interacting with other kids in a natural way, building critical social skills such as the art of give and take. 

Relationships like these are what really deepen our roots. Without close relationships, it is easy to pick everything up and move on to the next place, just like a tree without strong roots can easily be uprooted and blown away. Relationships are the cords that bind us and the roots that plant us. Our children don't have any strong memories of home in another place, which makes it easier for them to grow roots here. Though it may not be quite as easy for us as adults, we have definitely felt the same process happening in the last few months. 

In March, we decided to start a Teen Night to provide a safe and engaging space for teenagers to socialize and develop life skills. What started out as a shy and quiet group with different members each week has turned into a consistent dozen of eager faces. Through the medium of board games and group activities, these teens have found a special place in our lives; I think that we look forward to Friday evenings almost as much as they do!

With each week that passes and each new name we learn, we are integrating into the community here in Balimo. Life has it's ups and downs, but we have been shown God's faithfulness to each of us many times. On Sunday as we read through the book of Ephesians together, verses 14-21 of Chapter 3 spoke as if it were a prayer into our life:

For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God. 

Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worth in us, unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end.

Amen.

Steep Strips

    Flight duty has been keeping me very busy these past weeks and months! Near the end of April, we all went up to Mt. Hagen for our quarterly shopping trip. While Nellicia worked on purchasing groceries and supplies, I spent the week with an instructor pilot completing my Advanced Airstrip Training. 
    Monday started with a ground briefing where we discussed the procedures, challenges, and all other things related to operations into steep airstrips. After lunch, we strapped ourselves into our seats and took off for Dusin, a small village with a 400m long airstrip at a 9% slope, with a few passengers and some water tanks. As we neared the airstrip, our discussions were focused around how to determine aiming points and the standard for approaching steep airstrips. Our wheels touched down and my brief adrenaline rush subsided, though I realized very quickly that I couldn't let my focus slip yet. As I taxied the aircraft to the parking bay, it kept trying to slide on the slope of the hill. Managing the energy and momentum of the plane's weight became crucial while taxiing so that we didn't slip off the airstrip! 
    On Tuesday we had a full programme ahead of us, so took off as soon as we could in the morning. Our first destination was Kompiam, where we picked up some health workers. I received a warm welcome from the village as well as the doctor aboard my flight, all who remembered me from our time spent in Kompiam during language training. We flew the health workers to Rum, a village only 5 minutes of flying away. There is a road connecting the two villages, but it is currently impassable due to washouts; even without washouts, the road is very dangerous because it is carved onto the very edge of a steep mountain. 

    After dropping the health workers off, we received word that there were several patients who needed urgent medevac flights to a hospital, so flew the ten minute flight to Yambaitok instead of continuing our program. Yambaitok has a short, flat airstrip in a closed valley, which gives a beautiful scenic view as we approach the ground. Waiting at the airstrip was a sickly TB patient who needed to be brought to hospital for treatment, so we flew him to Kompiam Hospital. Following this, we stopped at Sangapi, the village where we went for our bush orientation, to pick up two more patients: one was another TB patient, and the other a young man whose leg had been chopped by a bush knife. Even though it had been bandaged, he was clearly in a lot of pain and unable to walk. By this time in the day, landing at Sangapi can be a challenge because the village is in a valley that generally fills with a lot of clouds. Thankfully, the circuit was clear so we were able to land and take off with the patients. 

    With the medevac patients safely in a hospital, we continued our training by doing several take-offs and landings in Pyarulama, a 500m long airstrip with a 10% slope. This was a good opportunity to gain experience landing at steep strips; they are completely different than the flat, soft, and slippery airstrips in the Western Province! Since we can only land uphill with such significant slopes, these airstrips are always one-way streets, which means the wind speed and direction can make each landing a different experience. In addition to this, the committal point (or point of no return) for landing is well before the runway, at the point where it would not be safe to go around the airstrip because of the surrounding mountains. Flying in a valley with sloping terrain, mountains, no horizon, and steep airstrips also creates plenty of visual illusions, since there is no standard point of reference available. The combination of these factors definitely raised my focus and adrenaline levels! 

    On Wednesday, we did some flying in the Western Province. Though there are no steep airstrips in the lowlands, there are several short and sometimes very slippery airstrips that can also be tricky to land at. We first dropped building supplies off in Mougulu, and then continued to do some landings at the D level strips in the Western Province (the most difficult airstrips). Personally, the training we did today was especially meaningful to me; since we are based in the Western Province, it is also the area that I fly in most regularly. 
    Thursday was another busy day in the highlands with a programme including a few steep airstrips. We started the day by bringing some passengers to Megau, which has a 460m long airstrip. The unique thing about this strip is that it begins with less than 5% slope, but ends off with an 18% slope at the top end for an average of 8.5%. This makes the touchdown on a relatively flat surface, but then I needed to continue to add much more power than usual to make it to the parking bay! After dropping off the passengers, we began taxiing up to the very top of the airstrip for takeoff, but got stuck in the soft ground. This was another tricky experience; when an airplane is stuck on a slope it can tip backwards onto the tail very easily. To prevent this, I stayed in my seat to keep enough weight in the front of the plane while my instructor got out to put a tail stand on the back of the plane. After digging out and clearing the mud around the tires, we started our airplane up to continue. While turning around for take-off, we bogged again; thankfully, we were soon out of the mud and off and away towards Rum to pick up the healthcare workers that we dropped off on Tuesday and return them to Kompiam.

    Our next stop was Mengamanau, the steepest strip on this week's programme. With an average 14.5% slope, this 460m long airstrip makes it look like you are about to fly into the side of a mountain when coming in for landing. I guess that is the reality -- some of these runways really are just a cleared strip of land on the side of a mountain! After a safe landing, we dropped off two mothers with their newborn babies, and then turned around for takeoff. Starting off down the airstrip was a strange feeling because I couldn't see most of the runway from the top off the hill; it felt like I was taking off down a cliff! Airborne once again, we picked up a pastor and his wife from Rum who needed to get to Hagen, and then shut down for the day. 

    When I got home and told Nellicia about my day, she asked if I was afraid to land on the really steep airstrips. Many people also ask this about flying in PNG in general, but I think my answer to her sums it up: "No, but I have a healthy respect for these kinds of airstrips."

    Friday was the culmination of my training, an advanced airstrip check flight. I started by flying to Yenkisa with passengers and cargo, and then we went to Eleme to pick up a sickly elderly man with TB. We took this patient along and landed once again in Yenkisa to pick up a very pregnant lady, who couldn't join on the first flight since Eleme has weight restrictions for takeoff because of it's soft surface (and we wanted her to have as short of a flight as possible). I flew both patients and a few of their family members to Kompiam, where there is a hospital, and then we continued on to Megau and Mengamanau for steep airstrip assessments. Even though I had some practice landing at each of these airstrips, it still required a lot of focus and resulted in increased adrenaline! My assessment was successful, which means that I am now able to fly into the most difficult airstrips in PNG; in addition to this, several restrictions that I previously had as a newer MAF pilot in PNG were removed, enabling my flying to be more efficient and effective. 

    On Saturday, after a morning of last-minute shopping to get the few odds and ends that Nellicia was unable to purchase during the week, we took our boxes of groceries and flew back home, ready to settle back into life in Balimo!

Unloading water tanks in Dusin

Ready for takeoff at Mengamanau

Mengamanau

Megau airstrip

Megau

My instructor helping to dig out at Megau

Blessings

"Count your blessings, name them one by one;

Count your blessings, see what God has done;

Count your many blessings, name them one by one;

And it will surprise you what the Lord has done."

I open the door to Ezra's bedroom and am still surprised by the cold blast of air that greets me. Picking him up, I rub my hand through his silky hair, which is no longer soaked with sweat after each nap. Spending some time in an air conditioned room each day has completely cleared up both kids' rashes, and gives especially Nova an extra dose of energy as well. It is still baffling that an air conditioner set to somewhere between 28 and 30 degrees Celsius can provide so much relief, but we are so thankful for this blessing and the positive effect it has already had on our kids. 

When Brandon was preparing to fly in Papua New Guinea, one of his instructors told him to remember not to change his goalposts in life. "Even when you are used to flying into the difficult airstrips that will be your new normal, remember that it is not normal." The same is true about our basic standards of living, but we catch ourselves having to relocate our goalposts back to their original position every now and again. Since moving to Balimo, we got accustomed to the water that came from our taps -- the water we used for cleaning, washing laundry and dishes, and showering and bathing -- which, with no exaggeration, was a dirty orange colour. With only six to eight inches of water in a sink or bucket, the bottom would no longer be visible. Recently, a new UV water filter system was installed here to clear up our entire water supply, and the things we noticed made me realize that my goalposts definitely had to be reset! It was a surprise to me to be able to see the kids' legs in their bucket of water that they use as a bath, when before they disappeared, invisible, under the dirty surface. And who could even imagine washing dishes in clean water anymore? And my hair! It actually felt clean after showering, without needing to wash it as the very last step before turning the water off! Together with the air conditioning, we are so grateful for clean water, free of all of the bacteria that were giving us so many infections and skin problems. 

Of course, these blessings do not mean that everything is easy now. Life in Balimo has tested us more than we imagined it would; not only physically, but also mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Sometimes, it seems like each small victory is met with a few more obstacles to trip and stumble over for awhile... but through it all, we are called to be faithful to the One who remains faithful. 

"Are you ever burdened with a load of care?

Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?

Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly,

And you will be singing as the days go by.

Count your blessings, name them one by one;

Count your blessings, see what God has done;

Count your many blessings, name them one by one;

And it will surprise what the Lord has done.

So, amid the conflict, whether great or small,

Do not be discouraged, God is over all;

Count your many blessings, angels will attend,

Help and comfort give you to your journey's end."

P.S. Christmas Reflections

Walking into the dark and musty smelling room, we are greeted by silence interjected with rattling coughs. The hospital matron greets the patrons and explain that we are here to sing a few carols and to wish everyone a happy Christmas. Her only response is coughs from several of the patients. I look around the small room that was labelled "TB Ward" and feel the oppressiveness of this disease. One small boy sits on the edge of his bed with a bloated belly from his medication. He is trying to stand up to get a better glance of the white people that have entered the room, but doesn't have the energy to stand for more than a few seconds before sitting back down. A teenage girl is lying on her metal framed hospital cot, huddled under a blanket, looking very poorly. I feel sweat dripping down my forehead and see beads of sweat forming on Nova's nose as well. I offer a smile to the girl, which feels almost insensitive when I see the pain written on her face and hear the next bout of coughs rack her small body. 

The matron has finished introducing us guests to the patients, and has cued that we are ready for the first song. I lift my violin to play the tune of "Away in a Manger" and several of the hospital nurses begin to sing a Gogodala Christmas song to the tune. At the first sound of my violin, I feel life coming into lifeless eyes as they quickly turn and focus all of their attention on me. Somber faces light up as they hear an instrument that they have never heard (or heard of) before. As I play the last notes, I turn back to the girl who turned my heart inside out. She is sitting at the end of her bed, completely entranced. Her face is filled with wonder instead of pain, and she offers me a small, shy smile. The next song in the program I do not know, so I pass my violin off to a MAF doctor who happens to also play violin. She starts the song off while I try to learn and join in on the hand gestures and words. My mistakes make the children and adults grin, showing a spark of life that was absent when we walked into the ward. I always knew music was powerful; today I saw the extent of this power.

After singing a few songs together, the MAF doctor's husband shared a short devotional. Ears opened wide as he shared about the love of Jesus, a free gift. It is free, which means it cannot be bought. It is a gift, which means it cannot be earned. His words offered hope and encouragement, two things which can be hard to find in the TB ward of a dingy hospital. After a time of prayer, Nova whispered up, "are my pencils for the boy there?" Realizing the simple joys that can be given, we decided she could give her gift of a pencil to all the patients, young and old. She passed me pencils for each of the patients, which I then placed near them on their bed (TB is extremely contagious). We wished everyone a happy Christmas, and then moved on to the next ward.

Each time we repeated the process, I saw the same effects. Lifeless eyes lit up. Bodies that had trouble laying down begged to sit so they could see. Hope and joy were shared in a place that needed a glimmer of hope. A young man lay in his bed attached to an oxygen machine, clearly in a lot of pain. His cot was pushed in the corner of a room, so he wasn't able to see us playing or singing. When Nova approached to give him a pencil, his family told him that a "baby was coming to give a gift." She walked up close and held out a pink polka dot pencil toward him. His eyes looked up and a shaking hand reached out -- not towards the pencil, but towards her hair. He patted and rubbed her head with a smile in his eyes, and then took the small gift and placed it on the bed beside him. Nova came running back, saying "Mom, he touched my hair! And he liked the pencil. Does another sick person want my pencil?"

The final ward had a different atmosphere when we entered it, and Nova was overjoyed when she realized where we were. "Look mom, babies! Little babies!" The maternity unit had 8 cots, about 10 babies, and about 14 mothers, some of who were still waiting for their little one to arrive. Nova walked around with her little pink plastic bag, ensuring that each baby received a pencil. "They will use it when they're bigger, Mom? Like Ezra?" 

After finishing the program in each ward, it was time to go. As we were walking back towards our vehicle, Nova ran up to me and asked to say bye to the babies one more time before going. She confidently walked up to each precious little one and gave them a little wave and a goodbye before we left to spend the rest of our Christmas Day at home, our thoughts still bound to that young girl who was so transfixed by a simple song. 

We pray for change in the Balimo hospital, which struggles to function adequately without any doctors on staff. We pray for supplies to be delivered that enable life to be sustained and new life to be brought into the world. We pray for the patients who endure immense pain and difficulty without a single complaint, and we pray that the young girl's treatments would be effective in overcoming her TB infection. "Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen." Ephesians 3:20-21

 

And just like that, another Christmas has passed by; another New Year in a new place; time always seems to catch me by surprise! I have heard it said that life as a mother is filled with long days and short years, but with each year that passes this cliche rings truer. As at the beginning of most years, it is natural to look back on the year that is passed to reflect on the good and the not-so-good. This year, we didn't only reflect on the last year but on the last several, which have been filled with so many changes. In 2020, we were married, Nellicia started teaching, and we applied to serve with MAF. In 2021, Nova was born, Nellicia stopped working, and Brandon switched from instructing to raising support with MAF. In 2022, we moved to Papua New Guinea and settled into life in Mount Hagen, where Brandon started flying again. In 2023, Ezra was born and we moved to Balimo. 

We spent this Christmas season finding new traditions and building special memories in Balimo, a very different place from the one our childhood was spent in. We had no fireplace to sit in front of or warm sweaters to keep us cozy, though we did enjoy a cup of hot chocolate on a cool morning (it was only 24 degrees)! Aside from the snowflakes we cut out and pasted onto our wall, there has been nothing wintry about Christmas -- after all, it is the middle of summer here in the southern hemisphere. We realized, however, that Christmas is still a special time even without a chill in our bones. We enjoyed a traditional Swiss Christmas dinner with our neighbours, which was a nice treat starring an amazing kind of sausage roll. Nova enjoyed learning the Christmas story and still insists on singing Away in a Manger at any opportunity.

As we welcomed this New Year, we commented that 2024 may be the first year in our married life that doesn't come with a major life change or transition; or maybe it will, and we just don't know about it yet! God has a way of directing our lives in ways that we never imagined from the outset, but He has shown time and again that we are not the authors of our life journey; instead, we must trust in the Author and follow His will as it is shown to us. "O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the LORD. Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel." Jeremiah 18:6

Finding Strength

 As one of my (Nellicia's) friends said goodbye when we first moved to Balimo, she whispered, "Remember where your strength comes from and to use that strength to first take care of yourself." What she said stuck with me, but I assured myself that I wouldn't have any major difficulties with the move to the lowlands; and so, in our first month in Balimo, I forgot those words. I tried to do everything that needed to be done at the house while Brandon was flying. After a few weeks, the daily list of things to do started to seem more and more difficult to surmount -- laundry, windows, floors, bathroom, dishes, baking, changing diapers, toddler potty time, snack time, putting kids to bed, making dinner, showers and baths, tidying, reading stories, and the list goes on. All the while, the heat felt oppressive. The kids developed bad heat rash, and not long after our move we each took our turn with some virus or another. Bedtime never felt early enough, and even if we managed to get to bed early I went to sleep wondering how many hours of the night our little one would keep me up. I was overtired, stressed, and feeling exhausted rather than renewed each morning. 

I knew that this was not sustainable, but also that all of these "things" did need to be done. I remembered how much it helped me in the past to have a dedicated devotional time each day; something I had let slip when Ezra was born. An encouraging book called Draw Near to God came to mind as well, and with it a whole list of quotes about the importance of setting aside a quiet time with God. With all of these things in my head, my heart started to agree. Instead of begrudging Ezra's early wake-ups each morning, I used this time to read a devotion and study a short passage of Scripture. Within only a few days, the wisdom of James' letter started to ring truer than it ever had before: "Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you." My attitude, outlook, mood, and thoughts shifted much more noticeably than I thought to expect. Yes -- it is still hot. Yes -- there is still an endless list of things to do, and yes -- I am still sleep deprived. But I can start each day feeling fresh and renewed again, with a clear sense of my purpose and calling. Nobody said life would be easy or free of cares and concerns, but living with hearts directed upward keeps a light glowing. 

To ease some of the burden of the many day-to-day tasks that come with living in a harsh climate, we now  enjoy the help of a local lady for a few hours every two or three days. This has been such a great relief and has given me the flexibility to have an hour of downtime each afternoon while the kids nap, something that I am so grateful for! It has also been great to connect with and get to know Daxi -- she is my insight into local culture, my housecleaner, my babysitter, my Gogodala teacher, and someone to talk to all in one. I have really enjoyed taking time to sit down with her to learn Gogodala. While the focus seems to be on learning new words and phrases, I am realizing that the most important part for myself is the relationship that is developing. Some days, I learn one new word and try to use it in different ways. Other days, I try to read out of my Gogodala New Testament to her while she deciphers my mispronunciations and translates for me. As she teaches me what the Bible is saying in the guise of translating Gogodala, it opens up discussions about God, who He is, and how this applies to us in our everyday lives. "Lulila is light? So this is saying that God is light? And if it also says that we are to walk in the light, I guess that would mean that we have to walk in the light of God." These discussions are so simple, and yet so powerful. 

As we continued to have discussions like these and to read Scripture together, she started to express her desire to have a Gogodala Bible. Since Brandon sells Bibles at the airstrips he flies to, we were able to gift her a Bible and a pair of reading glasses before she took her Christmas break. Before coming to Papua New Guinea, it didn't occur to me how much people in other nations thirst for the Word of God, which is so easily accessible in Canada. Seeing Daxi's eyes light up (and nearly fill up) as she looked at her gift and expressed her gratitude was so humbling. The Word of God, and the hope that the Gospel conveys, is such a precious gift indeed!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Land of Dust or Mud

 "Enjoy the heat! Ah, you'll get used to it in no time. It will really start to grow on you. The mold too..." These words of farewell from a fellow pilot who had spent several years living in the lowlands of PNG were our final greeting before climbing into the plane. With our belongings packed in suitcases, totes, and cardboard boxes and stowed under a net, we were all ready to take off on the hour flight to our new home in Balimo. Nova was thrilled to be in an airplane again (she absolutely LOVES flying!), and Ezra seemed okay with the prospects of spending his first of many MAF flights on Mom's lap. 

Our first few days in Balimo were a blur of changes and activity, trying to juggle the demands of two small children with the task of unpacking and finding a place for our belongings. The strategy: first put everything in the correct room in boxes and totes, and then unpack the boxes one room at a time, starting with the rooms we spend the most time in! This seemed to work reasonably well (just Ezra's bedroom needs some attention), and we are all starting to feel at home. 

When we are busy running on overdrive and adrenaline, we can often judge the size of a transition by how much of an effect it has on our kids. Nova has been incredibly flexible with the countless changes and constant uncertainty in her life, but this last move was the most difficult for her. Even though we don't respond to the changes in the same way as a two year-old, reading her as a gauge also helps us to realize our probable stress levels. In times like these, it takes a bit more effort to be patient, a bit more effort to respond with grace, and a bit more effort to find time to relax together and develop our normal family routines -- but even though it takes more effort, we have found that it is so important to invest the energy in having happy children and a healthy family. 

As we settle into new routines and Brandon has returned to flying, we have both realized that life in Balimo is more tiring than any other stage in life we've met with so far. That's not to say we aren't enjoying it, of course; as we've said to each other, everything feels like "work," but it's the most fulfilling work we could ask for. With an average afternoon temperature in the mid-30s, and an average humidity of 80-90%, we are starting to get used to feeling hot and sticky all the time. 

When I (Brandon) started flying in PNG, with the rugged landscape and difficult airstrips, I couldn't quite imagine saying what I'm about to say: the flying part is usually the most relaxing part of my day. At several thousand feet, the air is cooler and I can just do what I do best. On the ground, my mind and body are in overdrive. After one flight in particular, I remember feeling exactly how physically demanding my work can be. I had just flown a lawnmower, fuel drum, and some other supplies to a village called Sesareme so that they could keep their airstrip in good enough shape for us to keep serving them. After unloading about 400 kilos of supplies in the heat of the tropical sun, I was drenched with sweat. With an empty plane, my work was not done: next, I put all of the seats back into the plane (from the storage pods below) to prepare for the health team waiting to head back to Balimo. They had spent the last week providing health care to the communities in and around Sesareme, and were ready to head back for a weekend in Balimo. As I took off and climbed to cooler temperatures (and my shirt started to dry a bit), I could finally settle into my seat to "relax" before my next stop in 12 minutes.

While some flights are physically taxing, others are an emotional and decision making test. I arrived in Balimo to pick up a load of passengers headed to Daru, the capital city of the Western Province. One was a worker with a large amount of tools and supplies to fix solar panels to provide better power; three people from World Vision were going to help at the hospital in Daru; a sick pregnant lady with a family member needed to get to the hospital (there is a hospital in Balimo, but no doctors); a student had to write his high school exams the next day, which are crucial for being able to enrol in the next year of schooling; and a lady involved with the Development Program we are partnered with in much of the work we do also needed to get to Daru. Each of them had a valid reason to be on my flight, but after looking at the numbers for my weight, I realized the flight was overbooked. Too much weight meant that someone (or some luggage) would have to stay behind. Once the passengers realized this, they started arguing with each other about why they needed to go. Together with the Balimo traffic officer, we approached the passengers to ask for a volunteer to stay behind today and take the next flight to Daru. As expected, nobody volunteered. I called the MAF Headquarters to ask what I should do. They suggested to check which passengers had booked a seat on the flight, and which had come without prebooking, and then to remove one of the walk-ons from the list. The only unbooked passenger was the student going to write his exams, and the traffic officer insisted he needed to be on the flight. Eventually, the situation was resolved and we were able to take off from Balimo. As Dr. Seuss would end the story: 'I had to decide but didn't know what to do -- what decision would be made if it was up to you?'

While each flight is fulfilling in a different way, some flights definitely stand out more than others. This week I was able to sell reading glasses and Bibles to local people at some of the airstrips I landed at. It is incredible how people living in the bush thirst for the Word of God -- they are always very excited to see me pull out my "Bible Box." I helped a few elderly people try on reading glasses to find the best prescription, trying to emphasize that a good prescription was more important than a fancy looking case, which only came with some of the glasses. 

On the ground, I (Nellicia) feel like my to-do list is always longer than the time left in a day. From washing laundry often so it doesn't sprout mold, to baking everything by hand and from scratch, to giving both kids daily (or sometimes twice daily) showers and baths to minimize heat rash, to putting kids to bed for naps (four for Ezra, one for Nova), to cooking meals big enough to host pilots for dinner who are spending the night in Balimo, it seems there isn't a chance to sit down and rest until after both kids are in bed and I've had a much needed shower. By that point, it feels like bedtime for me too! 

As a family, we are starting to settle into a rhythm that we hope will eventually allow for some more time to relax. We all enjoy sunset walks down the road in the cooler evening temperatures, and are starting to get to know some of the faces and names of passersby. We are excited for the many opportunities we know will exist for all of us in Balimo, and are looking forward to making this place our home! 

After just having a few days of heavy rain, I'll end with some of the pros and cons of rain in this 'Land of Dust or Mud':

Pro #1: It's much cooler outside! (only 26 degrees) -- but still warm enough to play in, of course!

Con #1: Flying is more difficult, and sometimes impossible

Pro #2: The toads come out, which are (apparently) very fun to chase, and there are lots of puddles to jump in and mud to play with

Con #2: Our hot water, which is solar heated, disappears quickly

Pro #3: For everyone who relies on rain water to drink, they don't have to worry about tanks and buckets going empty

Con #3: The humidity is 100%, and everything is at risk of going moldy (yes, I really mean everything)

Pro #4: The sound of rain on a tin roof is one of our new favourites