January 26 is Australia Day and we celebrate every year. Our first Australia Day was less than a month before Willa was born when Ray was just shy of two. We were living with Australians waiting for Beanie to arrive and learning what we could of their culture. Throwing flip-flops and putting fake tattoos of koalas on our faces stick out in my memory from that day, but honestly, I was huge and uncomfortable and thinking more about, you know, not being pregnant anymore. Now we have two kids in the PNG Branch born in Australia, so we celebrate our Aussie babes together at this time in any manner of random ways. This year it was a delight, as ever, with Japanese lanterns and Tim Tam slams (look it up). It was also a sorrow.

Right now we should be packing our bags and buttoning up the house for our trip to Cairns. Right now we should be counting down to seeing our friends. Right now we should be murmuring about the things we’ll do as just the five of us, and all the things we want to make sure we do with Popling and Yaya. Right now we should be all anticipation and flutters and plans. But we’re still just here. Doing school, doing work, doing school, doing work… watching the planes go to Port Moresby at the same time each morning and afternoon knowing we won’t be on them. It’s a loss and I hate it. Truly. I hate it.

Tonight at supper Willa started complaining. She didn’t like the food. She wanted a book from her grandmother. She doesn’t want to wait for months to get the book or months to see her grandparents or…. well… it went on. I snapped. Being in a fragile state of loss myself right now, I just didn’t have it in me to guide her through it. Brian reminded her (and me) that it’s okay to feel all the things we feel about all the losses we face, big and little. But we can’t stay there. Our sentences can’t end at, “I don’t like being here, I want to be in America with my grandparents,” or for me, “I’m sad mad we’ve lost our annual trip to Cairns and all the traditions we’ve come to love.” Say them. Shout them to the moon, into a pillow, at your doll… but make sure the “but” comes along.

“I don’t like being here, I want to be in America with my grandparents, BUT I know God is good and faithful and true. This is where we are because this is where He has us. Thank you for a home and my people to be with.”

“I’m sad mad we’ve lost our annual trip to Cairns and all the traditions we’ve come to love, BUT I know God cares for us and will provide the rest and joy we need right here. Thank You for the memories we can talk and laugh about while we’re missing our special place.”

Feeling and expressing the losses isn’t complaining or grumbling. Staying there and never moving to a stated trust that He has our steps measured becomes the problem. So this month will be hard on all of us, but we are learning the secret of contentment while soaking in our silliness, our random celebrations, our normal days… our togetherness… here in Madang.