Preparing for Change

 With what feels like only a snap of our fingers, our family is again preparing to enter a time of transition and change. After a little less than a year in Mount Hagen, we are now getting ready -- both physically and mentally -- to leave the "settled" feeling of daily routines and comfort for many exciting changes!

We had the chance to explore Balimo recently, which is where we hope to make our new home when we return to PNG. In our six days there, it was great to get a feel for daily life in the hot and sticky... Or should I say the VERY hot and VERY sticky? Walking around town in the remote lowlands offered a completely different experience of Papua New Guinea than our current life; people are generally shy, quiet, and friendly, whereas the city is noisy with constant cat-calling and strangers are not afraid to test our confidence and knowledge of how things work at nearly every turn. We discovered what the Balimo market had to offer, getting the chance to try a new fruit (lychee) and learn how to cook a turtle, though we decided we weren't quite ready to take the step of buying the live turtle!

Brandon's time in Balimo was filled with flying. When he wasn't dropping off a health team or picking one up, he was performing other critical flights including two medevacs. "Work" and "ministry" took on a whole new meaning in the context of serving the people that live in the same area as we are living in. It offers the joy of being more connected to individuals by getting to know passengers by name and to hear their stories -- but it also means sharing in the grief and difficulties that are almost synonymous with remote village life. This time really reinforced our calling to serve in Balimo, which is situated in the most isolated and needy province of Papua New Guinea.

There are still a few steps for us to take before we make the move to Balimo, however. Our house in Mount Hagen is looking emptier and more bare with each day that passes. "Pictures? Clean up? Books? In Suitcase?" is Nova's way of processing the changes in her life, but she has yet to fully comprehend that we are scheduled to be on an airplane headed back to Canada in less than a week! We are all looking forward to seeing our family again (and meeting the new addition to our family soon, D.V.), but there are definitely mixed feelings circulating about what we know will be a whirlwind of a summer. It seems that regardless of how much we practice, transition and change are always unsettling. 

Trying to embrace this feeling as much as possible, I am reminded of Moses, who I think often had similar feelings of chaos in the middle of change and uncertainty. In one of his conversations with the Lord, he begs God to show him the way that he should go so he can be certain he is following God's will regardless of chaotic and confused thoughts and feelings. The Lord's response to Moses in this time is something that offers peace for us now as well: "And he said, My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest." 

Bush Orientation Part 3: Services in Sangapi

 Nearing the end of our time in Sangapi, we plan to use our last two days to continue to learn and experience as much as possible! Each Monday, individuals from the surrounding communities are able to receive free medicine from the health clinic. The catch is that they must spend the morning working to make sure that the area stays neat and tidy -- and only after lunch can they receive the medicine. 

While everyone is busy working in the morning, we ask the health workers for a tour of their facilities. They show us some of the medicine and tools that they have, but also explain that their ability to provide care for more complex illnesses or injuries is limited. After the tour, I (Nellicia) am interested in seeing the health clinic in action, so I return after lunch while Brandon stays with a napping Nova. A large group of people is waiting in the grass, listening to one of the health workers. He is giving them a stern lecture about how medicine isn't the only solution -- prevention is a better method. "You can spend 10 kina on a bag of rice, so I know that you can spend 2 kina on a bar of soap. Use the soap! Wash! Clean yourself! If you are always dirty you will be sick. Do you sleep with your pigs or dogs? Is your toilet house on the hill above your cooking house? These things are dirty, and you will get sick. You must learn these things first to prevent sickness. Until you learn them, you will always be sick and always need medicine." 

After listening to the 'lesson' for awhile, I head to the porch where people are being called to share what is wrong and to receive their medicine. Many of the sick are tested for malaria -- even though Sangapi is not a malaria zone because of the high elevation, most people frequently travel down to the rivers and valleys, and can be infected there. Some come to receive treatment for tuberculosis, a disease which no longer exists in Canada but continues to be one of the most serious health concerns in PNG. A few people report aches, pains, or strains and are prescribed enough Acetaminophen to last for a week; others come with pregnancy complications that the health workers can do nothing about, other than to encourage them to find some money so they can go to a larger hospital. For some, such as an elderly man with bone cancer, there is no treatment available in the country, so he is simply told to return to his village. 

The difference that the health clinic is making for many people is phenomenal, but still I am left with a twisted feeling in my gut. There are so many people who can't receive the healthcare that they need because it doesn't exist within the country, or because they don't have money, or because they are afraid to go to a clinic because of a stigma or curse, or for a host of other reasons. At the end of the day, the people accept it. It is the only way they know. Most mothers have lost at least half of their children. Cripples are a common sight, and gaping, infected wounds with flies eating the flesh go untreated, usually starting as a small scrape. These are heartbreaking realities, but in the midst of them I must continue to remind myself to see the successes of those trying to help these people; the lives that are saved.  

Later in the afternoon, as the rain is putting an end to the "traditional" afternoon volleyball game, a group of people arrive with a teenage boy on a stretcher. Dusk is approaching, but the health workers greet the arrivals and get to work. Since this was our day of medical learning anyways, we decide to go to the clinic to see what is happening. Talking to the boy's father, we learn that his son fell from a tree while hunting a tree kangaroo and broke his leg. They created a stretcher out of bush materials and carried him to Sangapi, because it was the nearest clinic. When we ask how long it took to get here, we are reminded of the reality of living in the bush once again: "We left on Friday morning and walked all day every day to get here." It is Monday evening. After the boy is transferred from the stretcher to a bed and given some medication to control his pain, we talk to the health workers. They inform us that the boy broke his femur and will need a surgery that they cannot provide; the only thing they are able to do is control his pain. He will need a medivac flight to get to a proper hospital -- the health worker will try to call MAF in the morning. 

Tuesday morning, we ask how the boy is doing and if a flight will be coming to pick him up. The health worker replies that he is not sure, because the family didn't bring money to pay for hospital fees -- they must first return to their village to find some money. Leaving the injured teenager at the clinic, they depart in the morning on the 3-day journey back to their village. Yet again, my heart aches at the reality of this situation and how common I know it to be. 

We spend the rest of the morning at the local primary school, since we heard that a teacher (finally) arrived! I was really hoping to see the school in action, and assumed this would be possible since the school term officially started the week before we arrived. However, as all things take time in PNG, it also takes time for teachers to arrive at school and begin teaching. We meet the teacher and learn that this week will be enrolment week; he is hoping that the rest of the teachers will arrive by the next week. The teacher shows us the curriculum he uses and gives a tour of the classrooms. For this area, tuition for the school year is 20 kina (about $8 CAD), but even still some cannot afford it. 

As a teacher myself, I am interested in what it is like to be a teacher in PNG. I ask a few questions about his schooling, philosophy, and job, and learn a some interesting facts: 1. In PNG, you acquire a teaching licence at a college, not a university, which is seen as a lesser level of education than a business degree, for example. 2. This particular teacher has been teaching for 3 years, but has not received any payment for his work yet. The government is supposed to "backpay" any amounts not given on time, but he does not know when he will begin to receive pay. 3. Since there are so many different local languages, education is standardized into English. Students must speak English at all times, and are punished if they speak their own language. Often, teachers are not fluent in English themselves. 

Thanking the teacher for his insights, we head back to our house for lunch and nap time. Since our plane is supposed to arrive first thing tomorrow morning, we also get a head start on packing up and relax for our last evening in Sangapi. 

On our final morning in Sangapi, we eat breakfast, do a quick clean of the house, and move our things outside. The skies tell us that it is not a guarantee that the plane will be able to make it, but we want to be prepared! We head out to find someone who has contact with MAF to ask what time the plane is planning to arrive. Over the course of the morning, clouds come and go, rain comes and goes, and our expectations go up and down. "The plane will be here in 15 minutes! It just left and is on it's way!" Half an hour later, we discover it still hasn't left because of bad weather. After several hours of "Yes, it's coming!" "No... the weather is not very good." "The plane hasn't been able to leave yet..." "It should be here in half an hour!" and not seeing a plane, we decide that the plane most likely won't be able to come today after all. 

At about 2:00, after keeping Nova awake all morning from her nap so that she could sleep on the plane, we let Nova get the sleep she so desperately needs by this point in the day, and create a mental plan of what we will have for our unexpected extra dinner in Sangapi. Just as Nova starts snoring, someone comes running and says, "The plane is almost here! We need to move your things to the airstrip now!" After confirming that it really is the truth this time, we go into turbo-mode: (sorry about the 15 minute nap, Nova), carry all of the things to the airstrip, and walk up to the airstrip just as the plane is landing. Soon after, we are sitting in the plane with the clouds rolling in once again. As the pilot turns the plane on, the rain starts pouring, and we take off just in time to make it through a hole in the clouds and back to Mount Hagen. This was a real experience of what it means to depend on a MAF airplane (and consequently, the weather)! 

Bush Orientation Part 2: Culture Conversations

 On Day 3 of our time in Sangapi, we start off the morning with a hike up to another ridge nearby. This time, we are accompanied by the village health workers, who are hosting us. They offer a lot of insight into cultural practices, which makes our time with them very educational! Like all of the trails up and down the mountainsides, the shortest route is taken: straight up the slope. Having received some rain the previous night, the red clay quickly turns to mud and is exceptionally slick. Keeping one foot in the grass on the side of the trail is my approach to gaining some traction; since our hiking s
hoes were still drying after washing them following yesterday's trek, our Crocs and flip-flops are not the most ideal footwear! 

After an approximately 45-minute hike, we arrive at the top of the ridge and walk a little further down the trail to meet some of the people who live on this ridge top. The owner of a piece of land shows us his two houses, as well as the new house that is currently being constructed. One of the houses is built on stilts, which prompts a discussion about why houses are built differently. We learn that it comes down to preference: often, younger people enjoy houses on stilts, whereas the older generation usually prefer to sleep on the ground level where the floor retains heat better during cool nights. After taking some time to look around and ask questions, we make the trek back to Sangapi where Nova is able to play for awhile before nap time. With another volleyball game and dinner also complete soon after, we are ready to relax for the evening. 

We heard the news that Saturdays are a community meeting day in Sangapi, so we are excited to see what the day will bring when we wake up! Everything is still very quiet when we head outside around 9am, so we start with a walk up the airstrip. There are many gardens on all of the slopes leading down the ridge; this morning, however, we see people actively at work in a garden that is close by. Asking a few kids who are tagging along with us if they know how to get to that garden, they lead the way and we ask for a tour when we arrive. The owners of the land are thrilled to show us around their "yard," explaining how life is for them. One gentleman wants us to ask as many questions as possible, and he shares his worldview with us very openly. His pride of Sangapi, his tribe, and the peace that they exhibit shines through in all of his answers. Following a conversation with him, his elderly father arrives from working in his new garden. Like son, the father is eager to show us the work he was doing and demonstrates how he uses a shovel to manually turn all of the soil before planting. Mid-work, he turns his toque so that it is straight (yes, we're still trying to understand how so many people wear toques in the scorching heat!), poses, and explains that this would be a very good picture. 

After a tour of the garden, the son shows us his wives' houses as well as his own. Traditionally, husbands are never allowed to enter their wife's house, and vice versa. Since this seemed to be a very traditional family, we asked some direct questions -- and got some answers that were more direct than others. "You have two wives? How many do you want?" "You are never allowed in each others' house? How is it possible for you to have children?" "Do your wives ever fight with each other?" Though they thought it was pretty funny for us to be asking these questions out loud, they were surprisingly open with us. We learned that this particular man wanted 5 wives (which would take awhile, considering the bride prices in the area), that the garden is used for having children, and that he is very fair and takes turns with his wives so they don't fight. While amusing to us, this is just life for many people in PNG; the way it has been is often the way it will be. 

We thank the family for their tour and then head back to the village to see if the community event has started. People come to this event each weekend, some hiking 2-3 hours to arrive. This means that people trickle in slowly, but by noon the air is lively with chatter, a small market, and volleyball and basketball tournaments. Brandon joins the Sangapi team in a volleyball tournament: when it is his turn to play, the crowds flock around to watch the "tall white man." If he doesn't hit the ball for a minute or two, they all start calling out, "White man! White man!" If he hits the ball (or even better, spikes it), the crowd goes into an uproar of cheering and laughter. By uproar, I mean that Nellicia could hear exactly when Brandon hit the ball from our house, which was a 5-10 minute walk away! We had a great afternoon talking to people from various communities, and really enjoyed the event -- it was so simple, but allowed so many people to connect with each other in friendly conversations and sport. 

With yet another busy day complete, we relaxed for the evening and prepared for Sunday. In church on Sunday, while most people sit on low benches that are about 6 inches off of the dirt floor, we were treated as guests of honour with plastic chairs. After speaking only Tok Pisin since our arrival, we were able to follow the sermon quite easily, which was a sign of our progress! We were all thankful for a day of rest after the busy days we had just had, and at the end of the day were excited for the new week ahead. 

Bush Orientation Part 1: Exploration

Watching as the MAF airplane disappears from sight, we get the first impression of what it means to be isolated. Here we are: three white people standing among a crowd of locals, in a village where we know nobody, with nothing but two suitcases and a cooler containing the food and clothes we'll need for the next week. With the excitement bubbling around us, there is nothing that we can do but feel excited about what the next week in Sangapi will hold! 

Several men from the village offer to carry our bags for us, and we take in the sights as we follow them to our temporary home. Sangapi lies on a small mountain ridge at an elevation of nearly 2,000m above sea level, but is surrounded on all sides by taller mountain ranges. We see bush houses and gardens dotting the mountain sides around us; the only buildings with a tin roof are the small health clinic, school buildings, and mission house, which are all situated on the perimeter of the airstrip. Since no roads lead to Sangapi, there are no vehicles to be seen. Instead, the sound that greets us is the whir of a lawnmower busily working to keep the grounds around the health centre and mission house looking tidy.

We settle into our house and unpack our things before going on a short walk to explore the area around the airstrip. Later in the afternoon, Brandon starts a daily tradition of playing volleyball with whoever would like to join. Shy at first, most stand at a distance to watch while Brandon plays with only the bravest kids. Not long after, others gather their courage to play with the "white man" too, and soon the game is filled with people and laughter. We receive a welcome gift of potatoes and onions from a village lady, and head home for dinner as the rain starts and the sun goes down.

We wake with the roosters at 4am the next morning, who must think they are the sunrise's alarm! After trying to rest for a few more hours, we have breakfast and head outside to explore. As we were starting our explorations yesterday, we saw a path that led out of the village that we planned to explore today. Starting down the path alone, we are soon joined by several children (and not long after, a few adults as well). We realize that this path leads all the way down the mountainside to a river below, and that the people walking with us expect to accompany us all the way to the river! With no idea how far it is, we decide to go with them at least a short way. 

Soon, the relatively stable dirt path turns to oozing mud. This is no big deal for everyone else, since they march through the mud in their bare feet -- which were already dirty to start with. For us, getting our runners covered in mud with 6 days of our trip left has us thinking twice. We decide that a little mud shouldn't stop us, and continue. Not long after, we come to a stream with a log lying across as a makeshift bridge. Again, we stop to think twice! Not only does the log look slippery, it is at least a few feet fall to the stream below.. and Brandon is carrying Nova, which means he is lacking the use of his arms. This time, we decide to cross the muddy stream instead of using the bridge, but again continue on with our "tour guides." Their balance and dexterity impress us; a young boy of about 7 has been carrying a toddler on his shoulders nearly the entire way, never slowing or hesitating for a moment. A woman is carrying her newborn in a string-bag, supported by her forehead. Even though the baby is only a few weeks old, this hike does not phase the mother. 

Once we reach the river with the "big bridge," we stop to rest while the ladies carry on. They are headed to their garden to harvest some food, which they will then carry back up to the village. The children have a quick swim in the river while we rest, and then head back up with us. About half way back, a few of the children veer off down another smaller path. We ask the others where they are going, and one boy says that their house is that way. Asking if it is okay for us to see where they live, we follow this smaller path. The girl who lives at the first house shows us around her family's property; they are currently in the process of building a new house, but live, cook, and sleep in their old house for the time being. After seeing this house, the children invite us up another path to see even more houses. Some of them live in houses on stilts, others in rectangular houses, and some are round. Some families cook and sleep in the same house, while some have a separate "cook house." All of them are similar in that they are made completely out of bush materials, usually woven together and tied with bush rope. After seeing where four or five of the children live, we make it back to our own house -- tired, yes, but glad that we braved the mud!

After another afternoon game of volleyball (and a game of chase-the-chickens for Nova), we head back to our house for the night. This evening, we prepare more thoroughly for the rats which we discovered the previous night! Though the fridge in the house doesn't work, it serves as a great storage place for any food that is not in Tupperware containers. Any food that we think they might possibly enjoy -- or test -- is put away in the fridge or cooler. Despite all of our cleaning and "removing" efforts, they still feel the need to check for treats each night, which leaves us the job of cleaning up after them each morning. Mental note: next trip to a bush village, bring a rat trap!

Commitments

Visits to the local orphanage are becoming increasingly common as I (Nellicia) realize the needs of the place. It is incredible to see how hard the children work every day in the scorching heat – plowing fields by hand, planting vegetables, harvesting crops, cooking their own meals, hand-washing clothes, etc. It is heartbreaking to realize that these children do not know how to play without an adult guiding them. The shy, friendly smiles that greet me with each visit make me want to learn more than just their names. Their personal stories are still largely unknown to me: who they are, and why they are here. At the same time, I am afraid to learn more. I know that only about half of the children living at BFO are truly orphans. The other half leave stories of violence and abuse behind that made it too dangerous for them to remain at “home,” but this somehow makes their stories even more tragic.

As I considered where and in what capacity I would like to be involved in ministry during our time in Mount Hagen, the needs of the orphanage kept coming back to me. Yes, there are major teacher shortages both in local and international schools. There are expat children who could benefit from music lessons or tutoring. There are part-time roles open within MAF that I could have stepped into. But none of these opportunities had a grasp on me as strongly as the needs of the children at BFO. And so, with the decision being made, I have started to become more involved. 

My first concrete step of involvement has been teaching a course to the children on Personal Safety and Abuse Prevention. With a large proportion of the children having experienced some form of abuse or assault, along with the fact that the culture in this area is one where violence is expected and domestic violence is accepted, this was a clear area of need. Starting with discussions about different feelings and what situations may create those feelings, we soon moved on to discussing feeling safe versus unsafe and how our body gives us clear signs when we are feeling unsafe. We discussed more sensitive topics such as what parts of our bodies are off-limits and how we should respond if someone breaks those limits. The final part of the course will be a session where each child creates their own safety network, with five trusted adults that they can talk to about sensitive topics. Of course, it will be difficult for these children to come up with five adults that they know, and even more difficult to think of five adults to whom they would disclose personal, and in this culture, shameful, information. However, I believe this course is only a start that I am hoping can be built on through the development of healthy and trust-filled relationships. 

While teaching this course, I was also able to spend some time observing the children’s typical school day. Since most children come to the orphanage with very little English and no formal education, it makes it difficult to have standard schooling. For this reason, each child starts with a self-paced Christian homeschool curriculum to get “caught up,” or at least learn the basics of reading and writing. When the child reaches a Grade 5 level, they begin going to public school. A few things that I noticed while observing were that this curriculum, though it has a Christian lens, only teaches the core subject areas of Reading, Writing, Math, Science, and Social Studies. Students also work through their various workbooks as their sole method of learning; there are no activities, presentations, or projects. They receive a goal for each day, and work quietly until they complete the goal, at which point their schooling is complete – whether that be at 11am or 2pm, they must sit quietly in school until 3pm. 

Seeing this setup (which is a lot to ask of the orphanage considering the help and supplies that are available), I realized that I could help enhance the education experience in a few small ways. And so, beginning in the new school year (which starts at the beginning of February), I will be returning to my role as a teacher to support the helpers that are leading the schooling and to try to implement a few changes. 

Briefly, some of the initiatives that I am most excited about: I plan to teach regular Bible classes. I feel that this is an important part of my ministry to the children, and hope that they will gain a passion for God and His Word through these classes. I will also be adding some “extra-curriculars” into the school day, such as P.E., Art, and read aloud time; the goal of these is that they will ultimately be planned and lead by some of the older students. A few other small changes are not worth mentioning here, but I am excited to see how the children respond to these extra activities and classes! And as with all aspects of our family’s ministry in PNG, we pray that God will work through us to bring about lasting change in the hearts and lives of people throughout this country; change that is so desperately needed.

Airborne

     In the air at last! With my training now underway, it has been great to be in the air and see not only the country, but also the work that is being done using MAF airplanes. The first two weeks of my training was as an observer pilot, to allow me to get the feel for a "day in the life." In this time, I experienced many different areas of the country, types of airstrips, and community greetings. One of my highlights of these two weeks was a flight to a remote village to pick up Dr. Mills, along with his team of doctors and nurses, after they completed a health patrol. This experience was very special, since it was Dr. Mills' last health patrol after 20+ years of service in Papua New Guinea. In his time in PNG, he built and operated one of the most well-known mission hospitals in the country (the hospital in Kompiam, which is where we did part of our language training). On our arrival in Kompiam to drop the team off, there was a blur of emotions and celebrations. Flower petals were thrown at Dr. Mills, and he was presented with precious watermelons and other fruit as a gesture of appreciation for the work he had done. My souvenir of the day was a 12 kilogram watermelon, since Dr. Mills decided he couldn't eat 20 or more watermelons in the time he had left in PNG!

    After two weeks of observing, it was time for me to switch over to the pilot's seat and use the controls for the first time. I had a few days of instruction to prepare for a flight test that would allow me to convert my Canadian pilot's license to a PNG license. This training was a refresher of my training in Uganda, and went well; thankfully, the test also went smoothly which means I can now fly with cargo and passengers.

    One day of my training is especially memorable, as it showed me the difference that MAF can make in life and death situations. After spending the morning in the air practicing for my upcoming test, we received a call that there was an urgent medevac in the west of the country. No other pilots were available, so we had to make a decision whether to continue my training for the day or to take the medevac (with my training pilot flying and me as an observer). We learned that a mother had recently given birth to twins and was now losing approximately one litre of blood per hour; she desperately needed a hospital if she and her newborn twins were to survive. My training pilot and myself decided that my test wasn't more important than someone's life, so flew the medevac. We picked the mother and two newborn babies up from a village, as well as another patient who needed medical care, and flew them to the nearest hospital that could provide adequate care. When we arrived in this next town, an ambulance was waiting to transport the mother to the hospital. It really is an incredible feeling to be a part of something so life transforming!

    On the "home" side of things, Christmas is fast approaching. In an attempt to make our first Christmas in PNG special (but still have a few reminders of Christmas in Canada), we are planning a dinner on Christmas Eve. With turkeys unavailable, and chickens of questionable quality in the stores, we had to get creative! Yesterday we dropped off a local "haus meri" (house lady, or househelp) at the big market in town to buy a live chicken. While we carried on to do some shopping, she took public transport to bring the chicken back to our compound. Though we are sad to have missed the process, we arrived back home with a freshly killed and cleaned chicken waiting on our counter! We are excited to share our first Christmas dinner in PNG with our neighbours, and plan to finish the evening off with some Christmas carols and gezelligheid. 

    While these small pieces of tradition do help it to feel more like Christmas, we also know that the most important part of Christmas has nothing to do with turkey or snow. This reminder helps us to realize that despite the things that are "missing" this year, Christmas still has the same meaning. Though it will be with different people, we are looking forward to celebrating the birth of Jesus -- and pray that His birth, life, and ultimate sacrifice will be made real and relevant in the lives of many throughout PNG and back in Canada. We wish everyone a blessed Christmas and happy holiday season this year! 

    

Normalcy

 "Welcome to normal life!" This is our current feeling, since we have now completed our orientation to the PNG program and our schedule of events has ended. However, we have no idea what normal life does or will feel like, since we haven't experienced it for such a long time. Time will tell what routines and structures we settle into here, but we are excited for normalcy to return. 

Something that has been a bit more difficult for us to get used to have been quiet nights. For the months before our move, we were visiting family or friends approximately 4 to 5 nights per week. Now, we are home every night (and we can only talk to family during the day, since they are sleeping when it is evening here)! We have been trying to designate certain evenings to have certain events; boardgames on Friday, visiting on Saturday, a Bible study on Tuesday, etc. This has definitely helped to add some structure to our days and weeks. 

Brandon has been itching to fly, a feeling that was escalated by the constant buzz of planes landing and taking off (we live right next to the airport). Now that our orientation is complete, he will begin his in-country flight training! Since Papua New Guinea has complex topography and weather, the training process is very thorough -- something I am grateful for. This means that he will spend the first months flying with a pilot who has plenty of experience flying in PNG before taking off on his own.

As for myself, I am still exploring the boundaries of what I can commit to with a little one in the house. Various opportunities have come up that I am taking time to think and pray about before agreeing to anything. That being said, I realize that boredom will be my first enemy if I remain in the house without any other commitments, so I am excited to see what comes my way in the coming months! 

All in all, life is starting to settle into the ordinary. Chaos isn't the number one descriptor of how things feel anymore, which I believe is a good validation of how far we have come. As with all things, we only have God to thank for the incredible way everything has turned out to this point. "But if not" (Daniel 3:18): if things get tough or difficult, if it doesn't feel like we are making an impact, if we can't feel God's presence, if things don't seem to be going according to plan -- but if not, He is still our only hope and help.