I’ve been hoping to avoid the inevitable forever. Hoping I would be special enough or strong enough or happy enough to never feel it. The pull of America. The distaste for PNG. The general discontent that eventually happens to people living away from their home country. My discontent exploded on me when I wasn’t aware it was lurking and wasn’t prepared to ward it off. It came in the form of a loving mother and grandmother. She brought with her the essence of America and all it means to me right now. Comfortable homes, delightful summer trips, yummy food, and family connections. All the devil had to do was put one little seed in my heart. One little tug and my whole happy world unravelled.

I started asking hard questions about why we’re here and coming up with flimsy answers. Not because the ironclad answers don’t exist, but because my flaky heart can’t see them right now. As I wallowed in my dark cloud of “why is my life here and not there” Brian encouraged me to take these moments to write out the things I love about PNG. To remind myself of our happy reality, partially as a practical exercise and partially to derail my thoughts from obsessing about a fake life in the US. If I’m thinking hard about the good things of this home I can’t think about the longed for things of that home. Here’s my list so far:

1.   The imported New Zealand cheese here is infinitely better than comparable cheese in the States.

2.   The pineapple is sweet, juicy, and readily available for anywhere from $1-$3. Economical yum.

3.   I love kaukau (perfect mix of potato and sweet potato) in various forms and have zero access to it in the US.

4.   I have a home here.

5.   I have work here.

6.   Ray will grow up knowing that the world around her isn’t always physically comfortable. And she’ll just deal. 

7.   Ray will grow up knowing more than one language.

8.   Ray will grow up knowing that in order to eat chicken and pig, you must first kill the said chicken or pig. She’ll be tougher for it.

9.   We hear outside noises 24/7 since the house is never closed.

10. We smell outside smells 24/7 since the house is never closed.

11. I’m inside God’s will and residence.

You’ll notice that many of the items on the list are pretty shallow. It’s the best I can do right now, and I’m trying to be patient with myself because I know that this inevitability, the disenchantment with exotic PNG, will be followed by another inevitability: true acceptance of my life here. God will bring me there.

As I struggle through this phase, He’s already sent assurance of His watchfulness on my heart. I’ve been reading through a book by David Crowder called Praise Habit, which has not directly spoken to anything occurring in my life until last night. In his rumination of Psalm 84 (the psalm that includes the well known “better is one day in Your courts than thousands elsewhere”) he says:

We have not been promised palatial housing, but we have been promised His presence. We often find ourselves in spaces that seem the last spot on earth we would have picked to insert ourselves, engaged in things we never imagined ourselves having to do, but we can know this comfort: that wherever we are, we are in the very residence of God and this is sweeter and greater than anywhere without Him. We carry His residence into these spaces. Perhaps we’re on our hands and knees with sponge and soap because someone has just made a mess of things or maybe we’ve just noticed that most places we inhabit are in need of cleaning. Living praise often leads us close to the ground. To dirt. It often leads to industry that is unglamorous and unromantic. It often leads to sweat and toil and lonesome valleys. But around the bend are cool springs. These moments are holy because we know that wherever we find ourselves we are in the very house of God. And there is space and comfort here exceeding anything offered elsewhere. Even if it leads us to dark places on our hands and knees, it is sweeter than lying on a beach in Greece because the sunshine of our Maker’s presence is brighter and stronger than a thousand stars, and it reaches to wherever we are.

It was just the reminder I needed to help pull my thoughts out of the swirling clouds of discontent. And I added number 11 to my list.