my parents went to papua new guinea in 1967. they left a country and a culture and they followed their hearts and their belief in god across an ocean. made a home.
stepping into wet-as-you-breathe sepik heat, they tied themselves tightly to a people for forty years and beyond. they took on comings and goings, births and deaths, losses and victories.
they learned a language well enough for dreaming in and worked side by side in the translation of hope.
i watched this life surrounding mine.
a child’s watching that takes in all.
and as i gathered and twisted skirt to carry with me my also belonging i…
learned a faith big enough spillover. found truth to light the path.
in the middle of sago palms and kunai grasses i tied myself to a way of life that i can still smell the scent of.
it is shoes off in grass and starting when all have arrived.
it is goodbyes that require end of driveway stroll and one more conversation.
it is quick to welcome, loud to defend.
it is stories told until fire burns out.
it is always room for one more at the table.
for whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope.
romans 15.4 (NASB)