I can’t remember the last time I had a sandwich. A proper
sandwich, the kind with thin sliced ham, crunchy iceberg lettuce, tomato, sharp
cheddar cheese, mayo and mustard. I’d stuff cool ranch Doritos inside just
before the first bite.
Lunch has a whole new meaning in Papua. Life feels like it has a whole new meaning in
Papua, only trouble is I don’t really know what it is.
Of course I know why
we came. The why hasn’t changed and
last week, as my husband flew his first flight to an isolated village way up in
the jungle covered mountains, the why
felt so big and all consuming.
I’m pretty sure my neighbors on one side don’t like me. I
don’t really know the family on the other side. At the end of my road there is
a really nice young couple with a little boy about Isaiah’s age that are always
friendly when we pass by or stop to talk. They sell fried food from a cart on
the main road a few yards from their front door. Today we bought fried tofu and
bananas.
A couple weeks ago, coming back from a ladies’ bible study
with some girlfriends, we had to stop the car in the middle of the road. A
crowd approached and as they did I hurried to cover my son’s eyes. A man was
being beaten in the street. I locked my door and prayed. Guilt and helplessness
pierced me through. We heard the next day that the man died. We had witnessed a
murder.
There’s a girl at the market who sells mustard greens and
always smiles. I don’t know her name, but she’s possibly the funniest person I’ve
ever met. A little down the road from her there’s a mama selling pumpkin who is
always kind to me.
As I look to a new year what I really want to know, the
thing I want to look back at the end of 2015 and see and understand, is what my
part is. To know my purpose. To know where I
fit in the great big why of our life here.
I’ve never been big on New Year resolutions and finding my
purpose in Papua probably wouldn't make a good one anyway. Instead, I
step into 2015 with eyes open in anticipation and good hope stretched out
before me.
Neighbors, merchants, farmers, street children, drunks, all
right outside my door. The needs are
great, so much bigger than I am.
Before we arrived in Papua, I felt my kitchen table would be
my place of ministry. A place to provide hospitality and encouragement, friendship
and the gospel, starting first with my
own little family and extending to whoever might find a seat there.
I don’t know what 2015 will bring. I don’t know my purpose
in the grand scheme of our life here, but that’s ok. In the meantime, my heart
and kitchen table are open.
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This post is a linkup to www.velvetashes.com where others are discussing their 'one word' to focus on for 2015.
