Do you ever have those moments when you stop in the middle of something and ask yourself "How on earth did I get here???" Those moments when you take a step back and take stock of where your life has taken you?

I have been having quite a few of those moments lately. The other day, I went with my sister to her friend's college basketball game, and somewhere in the middle of that crazy intense match, the only expat among what felt like millions of screaming, cheering Filipinos-- "How on earth did I get here???" (A better question might have been "How am I getting out of here?" There were no taxis around, so the odd motorcycle plus sidecar amalgam that serves for transportation pretty much anywhere that isn't a tourist spot might have to do. "Hey Dad, you know how I was forbidden to ever take a trike...")

Growing up as the only daughter in my family, I pleaded with God to give me a sister ever since I was tiny, until the day I finally gave up-- God wasn't going to give me a sister, that was just a little girl's silly prayer... Suddenly, it hit me. Even so many years after I'd given up on Him, God remembered my little girl tears and ache for a sister, and He had been preparing the perfect one for our family this whole time. Now, I found myself, the girl who was born and raised in Texas, as an only daughter, thinking it was completely normal to take part in such a hometown pastime as cheering on the local school's ballers in this arena somewhere in back side of Makati, just my sister and me. 

Wow. Could I have ever predicted this for my life? I serve a truly awesome God.

A few weeks later, I decided that Rianne and I should go have a sleepover with some girls from a streetkids shelter that I sometimes volunteer with. Girl time-- what could be simpler? Until we found ourselves slogging through ankle deep water, while it's still raining buckets, through the back alleys of Project 6, Quezon City. I previously thought that it was an okay part of town... but I had never seen it after dark. My pulse quickened slightly... everyone was staring at me... I wished I could hide my glaringly non-Filipino nose. I told myself to calm down, that the situation probably just felt worse than it really was, but all the same I started to wonder just how well we knew our guide-- surely a fill time charity worker wouldn't drug us and sell us to human traffickers, right? I searched for a street sign to text my Dad our exact location, just in case...

My question resurfaced, though with more undertones of adrenaline this time-- "HOW ON EARTH DID I GET HERE???" I remembered praying a few days before that God would really use me for His glory, that I would take risks for Him, and not just stay in the safe zone my whole life. To be honest, a part of me wished that I could retract that prayer at that instant. "Well, God," I thought, "at least I can't say you don't answer prayer. It's just that I wasn't expecting an answer quite so soon!" 

Just then, as we waded through yet another puddle, our guide chuckled apologetically; "Welcome to the Philippines!" 

Though I have lived here for two years already, in a way I feel like I had just arrived to the country-- not some snug, little expat enclave, but the real Philippines, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Tonight, as I watched dusk descend on the Fort skyline in a beautiful tone on tone mosaic of navy and sapphire, I considered the prospect of moving from our apartment in the Fort to a house in Alabang. The idea is a melange of bittersweet to me-- the Fort was our first introduction to everyday life outside the States, and I have made a lot of memories here, but the concept of a house appeals to the whole family, and it's still within reach of most of my activities in either the Fort or Makati. Quietly this time, "How did I get here?" Not here, as in this geographic locality, but here mentally-- to where this is normal to me, this is home. 

I used to struggle with the concept of home, and identifying whether my home was in Texas or Manila, but now I've put that question to rest: my true home is in heaven-- I'm more sure of that fact than I am that my heart will beat again-- and until I get there, my home is wherever God sends me, and wherever my family is, and that is enough for me-- finally. 

I may not know 'how I got here,' but God does know, and He will guide my next steps too. 

Life Stateside

Blog followers, forgive me-- I have been remiss in blogging so intermittently-- oh well, here I am!

I have now been in the continental US for over a month, but please do not pity me too much-- life hasn't been too dull;)

 To celebrate my birthday, my crazy besties and I jumped out of a perfectly good plane!

 The moment when they open the door and you realize that you are about to be pushed out of that door... 

 is only surpassed by the moment when your insane tandem instructor actually barrel rolls out of this aircraft-- a split second of terrifying, then bliss, freedom and serious serotonin release!

See me screaming?:P

 SCREAM!!!

 Freefall was the most amazing experience!

 120 MPH!

 Really, what could go wrong? I'm strapped to an instructor who has over 12,000 jumps logged.

 When my instructor pulled the cord, I thought for a split second that I had come detached, but thankfully not!

 The entire experience really wasn't as scary as you might think-- slowly floating to earth after the chute opened was peaceful and ethereal.

 We scored style points on our landing:D Many tandems land in a sitting position, but we landed upright!

 I loved it. I am ready to go again ANY DAY!!!

 

Best birthday party idea ever.

Butanding!

No, butanding is not a curse word, that is the local name for my new buddies, the whale sharks of Donsol:)

My parents and Rianne and I joined up with my brother, Eric's, family for a weekend adventure in village in the middle of nowhere, off of whose coast the whale sharks gather every year to feed on the abundant, translucent globs of plankton.

Our group would don masks and fins and wait on the side of our slim, 

high-prowed banka until our Butanding Interaction Officer shouted "Rock and Roll!!!" 

I felt rather like a Navy SEAL... waiting in suspense for the start of our mission;)

g

This was our spotter, posted at the highest point of the boat to search for whale sharks.

I dove down around 20 feet and swam alongside the whale shark for as far as I could before I had to return to the surface to breathe.  It was really an incredible experience.

After swimming with the whale sharks, we strolled down to the market-- I laughed at the "well-milled" rice; do you also offer poorly milled rice???

Is anyone hungry for stuffed chicken intestines?:P I tried to convince myself that it is really no different than sausage... but still!;)

Okay, this was a unique experience! We went shrimping the traditional way with these guys-- you push this large net through the water and mud and hopefully catch shrimp... think plowing... while snowshoeing at the same time! Our guide still used an antique kerosene headlamp, rather reminiscent of old time coal miners. Walking out to the shrimping grounds across these endless mud flats with only a flashlight or two for our whole group felt surreal-- from a movie--like at any time our procession would start chanting... or some creature would jump out of nowhere... we had a good laugh;)

 Our second day, Mom, Dad, Rianne and I crammed into a trike and set off to learn how to weave the palm fans that you see people making just a few kilometers from the village, yet no one actually knew where we should go to try-- evidently we are on the cutting edge of the tourism industry here in Donsol! Not that this is such a bad thing, of course!

An experienced weaver can make  100  of these intricate fans a day-- I am very impressed!

These women use their feet to hold down some fibers, while they weave others with their hands-- my toes were not so agile!:P



Our last night at Giddy's, where they grilled whatever fish they had caught fresh that day for our dinner, served with calamansi butter sauce-- yum:)

The hardest day of my life.

Today I went with a local church on their weekly outreach program, Thursdays For Others, to the Tondo Dump/ Smokey Mountain area. I hardly think it is possible for an American to fully realize, without going yourself, what it means for these thousands of people to live their lives in and around a huge dump, where they sift through mounds of garbage to find the relatively valuable wire, or recyclable bits to sell. I have seen quite a lot of difficult things since I have been here, but this was nearly too much for me.

This shot is out the window, driving into the dump. Sorry about the poor photos! I just took what snapshots I could, when I had a spare hand... Notice the little boy on the right has bare feet, wading through all that muck. I didn't catch the moment, but all three turned around and flashed us a cheery grin. 

 These three attached themselves to me from the start-- the girl in the adult sized green jersey is Edja, and the other two wouldn't say their names... not that they were sullen and taciturn, just sometimes kids are like that!:P
I loved making the little boy laugh, holding him upside down and tickling him... he had a cough, so no one else wanted to hold him. I am drinking echinacea tea by the bucket, juuuuust in case.

In the middle of the dump, someone had built a small but sturdy one room schoolhouse, where we packed about eighty kids and fifteen volunteers for story and craft time. These kids live in the middle of squalor, and have nearly no chance of a better future, yet most of them had radiant smiles, and listened very attentively and politely-- better than any American classroom!

I didn't want to be the rookie who cried.
I have seen poverty before.
But when we started singing Jesus Loves Me, I could barely whisper the words.
I know that my precious Abba really does love them dearly, but the ins and outs of theodicy seemed lost to me at the moment.
I have wrestled with the problem of evil in the world, and put it to rest for the most part, but this?

When these kids-- who have little to absolutely zero value to the world sang "they are precious in His sight," my pasted on smile started to slip.

Overcome by emotions I couldn't even classify, I slipped out to the cars, so the kids couldn't see me, and sobbed, hands over my face.

As helpless as I felt, however, crying wouldn't solve anything here. I sobbed for about a minute, incoherently crying out to God, then wiped the mascara from under my eyes, and went back in, with a stronger smile that I could hold onto the rest of the morning.
 I believe that God wants us to take all of our thoughts and feelings to Him, not just the good. Read some of the cries of anguish in Psalms-- "God, where are You?" is really not so heretical as it sounds, and this doubt and struggle even seems to be a semi-normal process that believers go through.

 We did a craft, and I held about a dozen kids on my lap, while someone told a story in Tagalog and led some songs.

 One of the junk shops that sells the bits that people find in the dump.

I found myself thinking that more than anything I want to help people like this. But honestly, I don't know if I am that brave. I think more than anything else, I want to go somewhere worlds away from poverty, and hunger, and filth, and pretend that none of this exists. 

In line for snacks:)

 What do you do after an experience like that? Of course, you come home, take a hot shower, and change your clothes, but what about the kids who never get to go home and wash the dump smell away? That is their life, and that is where they live. How do you make a difference in the face of such facts? I won't pretend I have all the answers-- I am confused and hurting right now, but I do know Who does have all the answers, and I know He sees, and I know He cares.

After we said goodbye to the kids, our driver took us around to see a little more of the general area-- that mountain is made entirely of trash.
Ten years ago, over a hundred people were killed in a landslide of garbage there.

I can't believe that this is only about thirty minutes from my apartment!


When these kids saw us snapping photos, they hammed it up for the camera! Somehow they find the courage to laugh and smile. Next time you have a bad day, think about them!