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

Home in Hagen

With all three of our suitcases packed to the absolute maximum in terms of weight and space, we were excited for the journey back to PNG; at the same time, I was really not excited for the journey. After all, who could really be excited to travel halfway around the globe with a two year old and a two month old? Despite my trepidation about how a 15 hour flight (and then four more hours of flying the next day) and multiple treks across airports with more luggage than four hands could hold would go, we reached Mount Hagen safely with both kids and all of our luggage still intact. The kids did much better than we could have ever expected, as per usual! Both of them slept for about 11 hours on the long haul flight, and aside from being a bit cranky while waiting in long lines, they were travelling superstars. 

As we drove the short drive from the airport to what has been our home for the past year, we were met with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. I never expected the erratic driving, bumpy roads, and other things that once shocked us to seem so normal -- I guess it is amazing what we get used to with a little bit of time. We stepped into our house and felt like we were home, and started to settle in again quickly. The compound welcomed us with a lovely bungkai (literally, food meeting), where it was good to reconnect with our neighbours again. Nova remembered the place and the people, and after a little bit of time to overcome her shyness she was back to following the compound gardener around with her little plastic shovel, picking strawberries from the neighbour's garden, and playing with her compound friends. Ezra has been a happy little boy after adjusting to the time change, and everyone is over the moon to see a baby in town (babysitting offers are not hard to find)!

Compound bungkai in the "haus win" (wind house)

Even though it has been good to be back in Mount Hagen, we are trying to keep ourselves from settling too much. 97% of our belongings are packed into plastic totes, cardboard boxes, and suitcases, and we are hoping to keep it that way for the next week. We've done a lot of shopping -- which has also been packed into cardboard boxes -- and are living like we're camping in our own home. We are hoping to start settling and unpacking again next Friday, since it is the day we've been waiting for since we arrived in PNG: Moving to Balimo Day!

 

Patiently Waiting

As our time in Canada draws to what we originally thought would be a close, we are still patiently waiting for all of the paperwork needed to take Ezra with us to Papua New Guinea. Everything has gone slower than we originally expected, which means we have already delayed our flights by two weeks. We are hopeful that we won't have to change them again, which seems promising since we just heard that the immigration office gave a deadline for processing Ezra's visa about a week from now! We will continue to pray that everything comes through in time for us to leave Canada in three weeks. It is time to start ordering the last things we need, buying the last pieces of clothing for the kids, and start weighing everything to make sure it will fit in three suitcases! 

As we start to mentally prepare for a new beginning in PNG again, here is another section from one of our presentation which reflects on our first beginning in the country:

Our senses are overwhelmed with new sights, sounds, and smells when we arrive in PNG after more than 20 hours of flying. We notice all of the beautiful flowers that naturally grow in the tropical climate contrasted with the dusty, bumpy streets littered with trash. We feel many eyes as we walk down the streets, with many calling out "Morning! Good day! Baby! Baby!" We are extra cautious about protecting our belongings as we navigate our way through the crowds lining the streets, especially when ladies come up to squeeze our baby's cheeks or shake her hand or even try to pick her up. Going to the market is an exciting experience, though we still have a lot to learn. When we soak our vegetables in salt water, we are usually greeted with swarms of earwigs, worms, and other bugs who are desperately trying to escape the salt water. "Brandon! There's one there! On the wall! On the cupboard! Up by the ceiling!" Shopping is one long math game as we try to get quicker at mental calculations: "34 kina is how many dollars? Is this really expensive, or a normal price?" Driving requires our utmost attention as we get used to not only driving on the other side of the road, but also to the people who cross anytime and anywhere and the vehicles that drive a wide range of speeds -- and sometimes stop with no warning. 

In those first few days, our senses were in overdrive. Everything was new, everything was different, and we realized that we had a lot to learn.

Ezra

 We were blessed with a healthy baby boy last week! Ezra John was born on July 19th, and we have all been spending the past 10 days adjusting to life with a newborn in the house. Since he was born just over a week later than his due date, Ezra's arrival also meant we needed to start his paperwork process as soon as possible. We applied for his birth certificate the same day that he was born, and spent some time yesterday morning getting a passport photo taken. Eyes must be open, mouth closed -- that in itself is a difficult task. Next step: no hands on the picture (ours or his), and he needs to be held up in front of the white screen. And to top it all off, he should be (at least sort of) looking at the camera. Thankfully, we had a patient camera man and got a photo that they think will be approved! It's amazing how even a newborn can look like a criminal...

While we wait for a birth certificate, passport, and visa, we will continue to share brief updates together with a short excerpt of what we shared in our presentation.

I have been privileged to spend most of my flying time serving one of the most isolated and remote areas of Papua New Guinea. The Western Province is one of the largest and most inaccessible regions in PNG — with vast flatlands covered in river systems. Villages are dotted along the streams and rivers across the province, but the province lacks the infrastructure or transport options needed for its people to access healthcare or education. 

 

In lowland areas like the Western Province, it is exceptionally hot and humid. This, combined with a clay-like soil, makes it very difficult to grow many crops. Malnutrition is a common problem, as well as other health concerns including acute malaria. In some areas, water has been polluted due to improper treatment of mining wastes in the mountains to the north. If any area of the country needs healing, in all senses of the word, the Western Province is one of them. 

 

Healing processes have been started in this area through a partnership between MAF and another program known as the SDP, or Sustainable Development Program. Most of my flying has been and will be in this area, working with the program’s Aerial Health Patrol teams. 

 

Each Monday and Tuesday, we transport several health teams to a remote village in the province, where they stay for one or two weeks to provide much needed health services. During these patrols, the health workers see many patients (and sometimes call MAF for medical evacuations if they don’t have supplies or equipment to treat the patient), give lessons to the community on hygiene and personal practices that promote good health, and begin training a community health worker. 

 

Once their time in a particular village is complete, we will return to the nearest airstrip to transport them back to their base in Balimo, where they will prepare for their next patrol the next week. These dedicated health workers spend six weeks in the bush and then spend two weeks with their family before heading out for six more weeks of patrols. 

 

Without MAF flying 10 teams into approximately 40 airstrips in the Western Province, many people would not be reached. The teams would have to make long, dangerous trips by canoe and walking to reach each village — spending more time travelling than treating and teaching. Through our partnership, more people than ever are being reached and more villages are seeing a start to the healing that they have needed for so long.