My
fingers speak more clearly than my mouth. It's always been this way. So
I write. I write about our family's experiences living and working cross culturally in Papua, Indonesia. I write to invite you to see the developing world for what it really is - full of life, wisdom, and courage.
The
sun is up at 5am which wakes the roosters which wake the neighborhood.
By 6am there is usually a knock at the door with a small voice calling,
"Isaiah!" The boys are ready to play. The construction equipment starts
running soon after and the men outside resume building the houses across
the way. I am still trying to clear the cobwebs from my head. My only
thought is for the strong coffee that I know is waiting for me when I get to language class.
The three of us walk down the red dirt road that tends to flood in the
rain, dodging puddles and mud. "Selamat pagi" and smiles to the children
walking to school and the adults heading out to work. The sun is
already warm, but the air is still cool. Our mountain a faithful, awe
inspiring presence.
At the main road we scan the traffic for a
taksi, motioning for a pickup when we see one. "Ke Lapangan Theis?" we
ask driver. Climbing in, greeting our fellow passengers, and we are off.
A new day, guaranteed to bring us both great joy and fresh challenges,
begins in Papua.
