“Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.”
(Galations 6:4, Message)

The way God speaks to His children is special and unique to each individual, yet time and time again I am taken by surprise when He reaches out and reveals Himself or His plan to me. He does this in various ways, but being a writer and lover of literature, He often chooses to speak with me through the written word. I recently started re-reading books from my childhood and early teenage years, books that left a lasting impact on my life. I adored them when I was young, and I have enjoyed discovering once again the truths and joy found on the pages. A new series has developed from the previous ones of my youth, and I recently finished reading the second book in this series. At the end, the author wrote a note to her readers. God knew what I needed, and He is using old fictional friends and their author to speak to me. This is what I read:

“Your life is a glorious, one-of-a-kind, complex, and expertly crafted God-tale. He did not create you “on a whim.” He knew you from before you were born and has ordered every breath you take before you even take it. You are his “Peculiar Treasure.” My prayer for each of you is that you would embrace each page, each paragraph, of your story, with wonder. May you live expectantly and joyfully knowing that the One who spins the stars in space holds your heart in His hands. Trust Him for whatever is about to happen next.”
(Robin Jones Gunn)

Moving to Africa had been a major step of faith and the beginning of a grand adventure. I felt like a literary heroine poised to jump the page into the next chapter. A year and nearly four months later, I still walk around the base wondering how I managed to get here. God has left His fingerprints all over my time spent here.  I cannot look back on a specific moment and not see God at work. He is present, alive in every moment. Who am I that He would write such an incredible story for me?

So much has happened since my last post that I don’t even know where to begin. I often write of how hectic life on this base can be, but no words can possibly explain how true that is. My life story has moved from drama to comedy to adventure, but in every chapter there has always been the undertone of a life in the fast lane. I rarely do anything slowly, and the events that encompass my life reflect that. Maybe it’s the way I view the world, but time never moves at a snail’s pace. I often joke that my brother is the tortoise to my hare, and that is how my life seems to be. I’m always racing to the next stage, and all the small details around me are often missed. Since my second mission trip to Zimbabwe and Botswana a few weeks ago, I’ve learned to slow my speed just a little. I don’t yet know for sure how long God will keep me here in South Africa.  For that reason alone, I do not want to miss anything.

So, allow me to take you back and reveal all that has happened since February 12. Grab a cup of coffee, some popcorn, and settle in for the ride …

The Conclusion of Term 1: While the term had moved at a steady clip, the final week of school was a whirlwind. With only two days of actual PACE work, the remaining three days of the term were devoted to different events: Fun Day, Club Day, and Walkathon.

Fun Day resembled a small American fair with a jump house, face painting, games, and food. It reminded me of the Pancake Breakfast my church back home in Anaheim, California, held every year. I loved going to the Pancake Breakfast as a child. The numerous booths with games and prizes, the food my friends and I devoured as we walked around together, and the excitement that hung in the air as friends and strangers mingled as one are unforgettable. Fun Day was just like that, but this time, I was one of the adults working to make the day a success. I helped out at the jump house near the entrance gate. I had a good vantage point to watch as all the students and their friends and family ran about with crazy grins on their face. Memories from my childhood mingled with the sights before me, and I stood gathering tickets with a wistful look upon my face.

Former students came to the Fun Day as well, which was probably my highlight of that day. As the gates open, I looked up to see a couple of my older students from last year standing there talking together. When they saw me, they started jumping up and down shouting my name. Once they got inside, two of them came running to me with big hugs and lots of laughter. I loved seeing these girls again, and as the day wore on, more of my beloved and missed students came to see me. At the end, Nicole and I managed to get group shots with our “kids,” which I will be treasuring for years to come.

After an exhilarating but exhausting Fun Day in the sun, we woke the following morning to Club Day. All the students were back in the learning centers, but this time, they shuffled from room to room for different activities. There was more face painting, arts and crafts, sports, and finally, story time. Guess which one I was involved in? Andrea and I worked together. I read the different fairy tales while Andrea jumped in with the sound effects. The kids were cracking up at the insanity of my and Andrea’s antics. I wish someone had been there with a video recorder. We had so much fun that day just being ourselves and entertaining the students.

The last day of the term was Walkathon. The event is used to raise funds for the school. I was placed at the “watering hole” for a second year. Nicole joined me, and the two of us had a good time interacting with the children who stopped to guzzle water. God blessed us with a cool day, so the sun was unable to drain us of any excess energy we still claimed after two days of other events. By the time the event and remaining school day had finished, all of us were zapped and ready for a break. A two-week holiday lay before us like an oasis, and we rushed toward it with enthusiasm.

Zimbabwe and Botswana Mission Trip: With a few days to relax and enjoy the lack of busyness, I was soon off on another adventure to Zim and Botswana. There were ten of us in all, and we comfortably arranged ourselves into two separate vehicles. We set off on a Tuesday morning in late March, and by that evening, we had arrived in Botswana.  The following day was my birthday. Though we were in a car traveling for most of the day, I didn’t much mind. How many people can say they woke up on their 24^th birthday in Botswana and then lay their head down to sleep that night in Zimbabwe?

We spent three and half days in Zim, and those few days were jam-packed with activities. We spent most of the first day setting up camp in Victoria Falls, shopping, and arranging our preferred tourist activity of choice. Of the five “young people” on the trip, three decided to go bungee jumping off the Victoria Falls bridge. Clearly, I was not one of them. I prefer to keep my feet firmly planted, thank you very much. Purposefully jumping off a bridge to fall hundreds of feet to my death only to be yanked back up at the last possible moment does not sound like a fun time to me. To each her own, I suppose.  I ended up having a truly British high tea with the Palmers at the beautiful Victoria Falls Hotel. Lemonade, scones, cucumber sandwiches, and little cakes are definitely more my style than jumping to my death over raging waterfalls.

My choice of adventure was something I could only dream of: an elephant ride through the wild African bush. I could not wipe the crazy smile off my face the entire time. Mr. Palmer went with me so I would not be alone on my adventure. We climbed onto the back of our individual elephants behind our guides and set off into the bush.

We didn’t see any giraffes or lions, but I didn’t mind. Even when it started raining halfway through our walk, I enjoyed every moment. I felt like a true adventurer riding her elephant on a great journey. The rain falling to my shoulders added to the image, and my smile grew wider. I will always treasure that experience. As an avid reader and writer, I’ve always lived adventures through the characters I encountered in books. Moving to Africa had been an exciting journey, but it was not until I rode on the back of that elephant that I truly felt like I was living the adventure I had always sought. I am a city girl with stilettos who dreams of being Indiana Jones, and a portion of that dream finally came true. Oh, how I had longed to be wearing Jones’s fedora at that moment just so I could whip it off my head and wave it in the air in celebration. My heart soared into the clouds that day.

Upon leaving Zimbabwe, we returned to Botswana for the second part of our trip. We set up camp at a safari lodge right on the Chobe River. Standing in the middle of our campsite, you could see the river, and if you walked ten steps you would be on the riverbank. Hanging on a tree beside our camp was a sign that read “Beware Crocodiles.” After seeing a couple crocodiles swim past us, we decided to take the sign seriously. Warthogs and monkeys roamed the campsite and lodge freely, so we had to watch where we were going at all times. Running into Pumbaa and startling him was not in our best interests.

The lodge was beautiful with amazing views of the river and surrounding grasslands. The first day we were there was a Sunday. After breakfast, we all gathered together for a small church service. Each of us chose a verse from the Bible and explained why we chose that part of Scripture. I read from Psalm 37: 23-24, which says, “A man’s steps are established by the Lord, and He takes pleasure in his way. Though he falls, he will not be overwhelmed, because the Lord holds his hand.”  I love that God knows my life story through to its completion. He has already written it, and He walks with me through each chapter of it. He has established my steps, and so long as I follow in His footprints, I will find joy and contentment. I don’t have to worry about where I am going next. Whether I stay in South Africa or go elsewhere in the world, I do not have to worry. God already knows, and His footprints will take me there.

Later that day as I sat on the deck overlooking the river, I thought about all the chapters traveled that led me to that moment. It was a gorgeous place to be, and I was amazed that I was actually there, living in that exact moment, with such beauty before me. I spent that whole day on the deck reading and writing in my journal, and even part of the next day was spent in the midst of such beauty. Here’s a glimpse of my thoughts and description of the world I lived and breathed during those days:

“This trip has been a constant reminder of God’s sense of adventure, joy, and humour. He has so much planned for me in this life, and I might have missed it if I had not followed God’s calling to Africa. As I write, sitting on the hotel deck, I have a view of water and grasslands peppered with all manner of trees and bushes spread out before me.  Nothing hinders the landscape. Just blue waters rippling in the breeze, tall grasses waving to me with green and gold stalks, and a blue sky occasionally marked by a wispy cloud that imagines itself to be a feather.” (April 1)

“The water sparkles in the sunlight, winking at me from the opposite shore. The wasps of yesterday slumber in the nest, and the cool breeze has returned. The world around me is all sunlight glow and refreshing shade . . . A petite yellow butterfly tumbles in the breeze ahead of me, now soaring south below the terrace. All is peaceful here.” (April 2)

 Had I not followed God to Africa, I would have missed so much. I almost wish I could return to those moments on the deck and live them again, but then I realize the folly of such an idea. To live the memory again would only lessen its beauty and impact. Rather keep it in my memory and take it out now and again to remind myself of God’s gifts and beauty. I would hate to take such things for granted simply because they became part of my ordinary day.

While in Botswana, we managed to go out into the town and evangelize at two shopping areas. We handed out tracts, speaking to some who lingered to ask questions. One man spoke with Tessa and me for a while. He desperately wanted answers, and I hope we managed to reach out to him through the mess of confusion that clouded his vision. We also gave out gift packets at the hospital. The best part was in the maternity ward, where we had the pleasure of telling a young woman that she was having twins. The doctor had been about to tell her when we walked in, but he allowed us to do so instead. It was a special moment, and us girls walked out wearing smiles.

Upon leaving the town, we stopped to visit some friends of ours who own a farm in Pandametanga. Most of us had thought we would set up camp at the farm to stay the night, but Mr. Palmer decided a spontaneous night in the bush was a fantastic idea. With no warning, all of us were back in the vehicles and driving through the tall grasses of Botswana. We had gone off the road, so we pretty much blazed our own trail with the tires of our Land Rovers.  We stopped at a watering hole and set up camp. No electricity, no safety fences to keep the wild lions and hyenas at bay, and no running water. Our bathroom was the nearest bush.

I thought I was going to die.

I slept alone in my tent, just as I had every other night of that trip.  Needless to say, I had little to no sleep that night. The wind howled and whipped at our tents like it was determined to blow us into tomorrow. I even woke up at one point during the night to the sound of something next to my head. I froze. I did not move. We were told the next morning that no animals came to our camp the night before, but I think otherwise. Something had been moving by my head that night. It wasn’t large enough to be a lion, but it was something.

I was up at 6 that next morning.  My tent was one of the first to be packed up and my belongings ready to go long before the other girls crawled out of their tents. I could not get out of there fast enough. That night in the bush did show me that I am perfectly capable of roughing it, and for that, I am thankful. I do not wish to repeat that evening, but I can appreciate it for what it was: a lesson in staying calm in the midst of a city-girl panic attack.

We spent one last evening in Botswana with another family before heading back for South Africa. Now, up until this point, the trip had been fairly smooth sailing. No vehicle troubles and no major hassles came our way. The morning of our final trip home dawned with a positive light as we wearily climbed into the car, ready to get home. God had other plans up His sleeve.

We managed to travel through the morning with no signs of trouble. Only after we had stopped for lunch on the roadside did we start to realize what we had gotten ourselves into. After packing the lunch things away and jumping into the cars, we managed to drive 30 seconds down the road before the other Land Rover called to us on the walkie-talkie to turn around. Turns out the Landy’s filter had cracked, preventing the vehicle from moving.

Mr. Palmer and Jacques managed to temporarily fix the problem within fifteen minutes, but it was slow driving from there. The other Land Rover continued to slow down and stop at random intervals. After a couple hours of puttering along, the Landy finally settled into a groove and moved forward at a steady pace. We all breathed a sigh of relief.

We turned off the paved road and set off on a rocky, dusty road that led straight to the Botswana/South Africa border. We flew over the road for thirty or so minutes, weaving back and forth as Mr. Palmer and Jacques avoided the large rocks and potholes. Things were moving smoothly until our vehicle hit a rock at just the right angle and speed to kill our progress. Our trailer had lost a wheel.

Stopping in the middle of the road, Mrs. Palmer and I set off to locate the missing wheel while Mr. Palmer hailed Jacques in the other Land Rover to stop and turn around. We found the wheel off the road in a ditch, but now, our problems had increased. The tire was perfectly fine, but the axle was not. It had been completely severed from the trailer. The only way to fix it was to weld it back on. Our only choice was to leave the trailer there and return for it later.

We spent the next hour and a half in the blazing sun with flying ants diving into our ears and noses in a mad attack. We unloaded the wounded trailer and moved all of our luggage to the roof of the other Land Rover and its attached trailer. Jacques tied all of our things to the roof while Mr. Palmer set to dismantling the trailer so we could take the axle and its other parts with us to be fixed. By the time we crawled back into the vehicles, we were drained of energy and our emotions were fraying. We thought that would be the end of it, but then the Land Rover’s filter acted up again. The remaining drive to the border post should have been about thirty minutes, but it took us over an hour to get there. We must have looked on the brink of weary insanity as we trudged into the border post with our passports.

Now in South Africa again, our spirits lifted with the thought of being closer to home. Even the slow progress of the second Land Rover and its defunct filter didn’t kill our new motivation. Eventually, the filter did give out, and we ended up roping the front of the Land Rover to the Palmer’s vehicle. Now we really looked like a circus. We had the Palmer’s Land Rover at the front of the show, which was pulling our second intact trailer loaded down with all manner of luggage on its roof. Then attached to that trailer was the second Land Rover, which had even more luggage roped to its roof. I’m sure we received all manner of strange looks from passing cars as we trundled down the road with our strange entourage.

We drove like this for another hour before we reached a paved road. At this point, we unhooked the second Land Rover to see what would happen. Thankfully, the filter held together and we managed to get all the way to Louis Trichardt without any further hassle. It was now past 8PM, and since Louis Trichardt was only an hour away from the base, we stopped for dinner at a seafood restaurant. We all finally relaxed as we ate good food and stretched our legs after hours on the road. Everything was on track again. Until we decided to leave, that is.

You see, while we had eaten dinner, the filter had finally decided to call it a day and give up. We managed to pull the stranded Land Rover into a gas station parking lot before it fully died on us. Now we were stuck. With ten people, we could not all possibly fit into the Palmer’s vehicle. Some of us had to stay behind.

Mr. Palmer and four others squeezed into the vehicle and drove off for Shayandima with the plan that Mr. Palmer would drop them off, unload the vehicle and unhook the trailer, attach a different trailer, and then drive back to LT to pick the rest of us up. It was nearing 11PM when Mr. Palmer drove off with his first load of people and luggage. It was 1:30AM when he returned. At this point, all of us castaways were running on adrenaline, Mountain Dew, and chocolate. The other girls and I could not stop laughing over the silliest things, while Jacques watched us with a tired smile. We finally reached home around 2:45 in the morning. Most crashed into bed, but I was still wired. I finally lost my momentum a little before 4AM and conked out. As I have said numerous times before, life in South Africa is an adventure. Ready or not.

Since that trip, life has settled down into a routine again. School started up for its second term on April 11^th. We are now entering the third week of school with the promise of a five-day weekend ahead. We have Friday through Tuesday off from school. Most of the people on base are heading out to Nwanedi for four days. I had planned to go, but now I am thinking I need those few quiet days to work on Mr. Palmer’s book. I’ve made progress in the last month, and I need to keep that momentum going. To have a few days with no interruptions will be ideal for writing. I’m looking forward to that break. I know quite a few more adventures linger on the horizon, but I plan to enjoy these days of quiet relaxation while they are here.

Stay tuned for Kellie’s next grand adventure. I’m sure it will arrive sooner than I think.

I once said living on base is an adventure.  Having lived here for over a year now, I would also say that it is a tutorial in the Unexpected and the Curious. We never quite know what we might see outside our windows or hear while relaxing in the solitude of our rooms. One honestly cannot predict what a single day will bring, because there is always something Unexpected or Curious waiting around the next corner.

Just now, when I opened my window curtains, I looked out to see two small goats trotting into the main kitchen. I kid you not. The presence of these two goats on base was nothing entirely strange to me at this point, but their quest into the kitchen was both curious and alarming. While these goats may have a relatively free reign on the base, they are most certainly not permitted in the kitchen. As a result, I took off running out of my room, across the grass, passed the lounge doorway where Joe was casually snacking and watching the goats, and then bounded into the main kitchen. The two goats completely ignored me, seemingly content to sniff around the chairs and tables searching for something to nibble. Looking like a fool (and feeling rather like Amy Adams in Leap Year as she tries to force the cows off the Irish road), I started clapping my hands and waving my arms in a desperate attempt to shoo these little miscreants back outside. Once I finally concluded this was not working, I decided to lurch to the side around one of the dining tables, scaring them witless, and then chased them out the door. They did not stop bleating in panic until they were all the way around the building heading far away from me. Watching them run, I smiled with satisfaction. Mission accomplished. I then returned to my room and finished hanging up my laundry.

My sense of accomplishment came too soon.

Ten minutes later, I glanced up and looked outside, just in time to see the rear end of the boy goat heading back into the kitchen. With a growl, I hurried back to the main kitchen and found both of the goats casually trotting past the center island into the scullery on the far side of the kitchen. “Oh, no you don’t!” I said firmly, hurrying after them. Upon seeing the lunatic from before, they bleated and ran in circles until one was brave enough to sprint past me. The other quickly followed, and their hooves slipped all over the tile until they finally found the door. I huffed and followed after them, resolutely shutting the door behind me.

I’m still laughing at the whole thing. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself chasing goats out of a kitchen. The two goats have been on the base for about two weeks now. Mr. Palmer decided they would be useful in helping us trim the grass on the property, so he sent Peet out to purchase two goats. How he decided upon goats as a feasible solution to this problem I am not too sure. To my city-girl mind, it seems crazy, but around here, this is simply normal.

In (presumably) normal news, Conversational English classes have started up. I’m placing a greater focus on verbal readings and presentations this year.  They do not often practice public speaking, so this is a good way to train them in it and to help them overcome their fear. I’ve only started off small, but I will gradually build the difficulty level of the assignments as the year goes on. My youngest group (Grade 3) will move at a slower pace because they are so young, but my oldest group (Grade 7) have already been given a major assignment.

On Thursday, I told the Grade 7’s (nine of them total) that they would have to memorise and present a poem before the class at the end of this term. They can either do it alone or in a small group. So long as every person in the group has a speaking part, I don’t really mind either way. I then handed out a few books with poems for them to look through so they could pick one out. Within five minutes, three of the four boys started reading a Walt Whitman poem aloud, and they were saying it with a set beat. I watched them for a minute, slowly starting to nod my head with their beat.  They paused, and Timothy jumps in, saying, “Wait, wait. Try it again with this.” He then started beat boxing to the same rhythm. The other two boys jumped back in reading the poem, and before long, they were rapping Walt Whitman.  It was absolutely amazing. All of us starting watching and laughing as they kept the rap going. It was great to see these boys taking something that they thought was a boring assignment and turning it into something fun and original that suited their tastes. Two of the girls are singing their poem, but I don’t know about the others. I’m quite excited to see what the others come up with.

Being a supervisor in the Amethyst Learning Center has been a challenge, but I am settling in and getting more comfortable with it. I enjoy the one-on-one teaching method.  It allows me to get to know the kids and to help them on a level that suits them. I’m not just teaching to a crowd hoping a few of them understand what I am saying. Instead, I’m focusing on each child one at a time and suiting my teaching style to fit their learning pattern. It certainly keeps me on my toes. No two students learn the same way, so I’m forced to re-work the way I explain things by examining each problem from a variety of angles.  One way might work for Ian, but it won’t work for Phophi. She needs to learn it a different way with alternative examples. Every day is a challenge with new problems that arise, and I have to be ready to tackle every single one of those challenges.

My Thursday morning devotions with the Global Year team are going well. When I first heard I would be doing it, I wondered, “How in the world am I going to plan a devotion every week?” It sounded difficult, but I’ve learned that nothing is difficult if you let God lead it. I never know what I am going to speak about until either Wednesday night or Thursday morning during my early-morning quiet time. God always gives me something to say. Week before last, I used The Lord of the Rings as a springboard to speak about God’s plans for them as a team and how He is using them as a group and as an individual. This past Thursday I spoke about idol worship, and how “idols” are so easily hidden in today’s culture. An idol is something you devote time to, and I used movies as an example.

On base, most of us waste hours upon hours a week just watching movies. How much more time would we have to fellowship with others, read our Bibles, and just spend time with God if we took movies out of our daily lives? I ended that devotion with a challenge. I told them that, starting Sunday (today, in fact), I was not going to watch any movies or read any fiction books for a week. From Sunday to Saturday, I am going movie and book free. I’m using it as a time to focus more on God and to see how great a difference life can have if I remove the worldly things from it.

I started this “fast” today, and so far I have been fairly productive. I’ve been tempted to watch a movie a few times already, but I’ve forced that urge aside and focused on something else. Typically, today is a perfect day for a movie or a book. It’s overcast and raining with a cool breeze blowing across the base.  All I want right now is a cup of coffee and a good book or movie to relax with for a while, but I have made a commitment. Two of the Global Year girls are even doing it with me.  The three of us will keep each other accountable, and at the end, we can be proud of what the others accomplished. I’m curious to see how this week plays out and what God will teach me. I’ve never done something like this before, but I know it is good for me and I plan to see it through til the end.

It’s your life / What you gonna do? / The world is watching you / Every day the choices you make / Say what you are and Who your heart beats for / It’s an open door /
To live the way that you believe / This is your opportunity /
To let your life be one that lights the way

… “It’s Your Life,” Francesca Battistelli …

Life is beautiful. The sky is a brilliant blue spotted with white puffs of cloud, the earth teems with green grass, and a cool breeze captures the heat and sends it away. The base is quiet this Sunday afternoon as people lock themselves away from the world to enjoy either the solitude or the company of a friend.  Starbucks coffee warms my stomach while the gentle tapping of my computer keys lulls me into a peaceful state of mind and body.  Sitting here, reveling in the beauty I see outside my window and the sense of calm that has cloaked my shoulders, I know I am blessed beyond reasoning.

School commenced Wednesday before last on the 11^th, and we just completed our first full week of classes on Friday. I have sixteen students this year, ranging from the tender age of 8 to 13.  Each one has a unique personality with specific ways of learning, and I am doing my best to understand each child as an individual and adapt my teaching to suit him or her as needed. I have learned to forgive myself for small mistakes, because I am still learning how to be a supervisor.  Last year served as training for this role, but this is the first time I am a true-blue supervisor with all the added responsibility that goes with the title. Fortunately, I have a good group of students and a monitor who is willing to help where needed.

After school on Friday, three of my students from last year came to speak with me for a little while.  The two girls never leave the school without hugging me first, so it was nice to spend some time talking with them and the boy who came to visit as well.  As I stood talking with them, I couldn’t help but smile.  I spent all of last year watching those three learn and grow, and now I can see the results.  They are maturing, and I have been a small part of that process as their former teacher. I may not be their supervisor this year, but I will still have them in my Conversational English class. As such, I will be able to continue teaching them and working with them each week, for which I am incredibly thankful.  I love all of my students, both the old and the new, and I cannot imagine losing them. I know they will all one day leave the school, but I know I will always have fond memories of them. Who knows, maybe I will see them again years from now.  I hope I do, because I know these kids will grow up to be incredible men and women. God can do so much for them, and I look forward to seeing how their life stories play out.

Apart from the school and the students, base life has been just as interesting and rewarding. Living on the base is very much like living in one large house with a crazy mix of family members.  You may get on each other’s nerves, but the love that resides here will always overpower the tension.  We are a family, grieving and celebrating together as life rolls forward into the future, and last night was an evening for celebration. Two of my good friends here, Kyle and Nicole, were married over the holiday, and last night all of us on base gathered together for a celebratory dinner reception. Tilla and I planned the entire evening together, with Tilla acting as the party planner and I as hostess.

At one point in the evening, I was standing off to the side as Kyle stood at the front thanking everyone, and as I stood there looking out over everyone gathered together, I was filled with a sense of peace and love.  Every person at that dinner came from a different background, upbringing, and for some, a different country. And yet all of us had been united in that one place as a family. It doesn’t matter where you come from or how opposite you may be from the person sitting next to you. In Christ, we are all one family, and in this small spot of land in the northern area of South Africa, God created a family that defies all earthly reason. Every day, Satan loses a battle he desperately wants to win.  Every day that this base and school succeeds in its purpose, God wins another battle.  I know Satan is throwing everything he’s got against this place, but still we stand firm. I know there will be challenges this year that will try us all, as a family and as an individual, but we can and will prevail. Last night’s celebration served as a reminder of that. In the good times and bad, we stick together, and I am blessed to be a member of this family.

Returning to South Africa for a second year is going to be a challenge. It will be a test of my faith in God’s provision.  I knew that when I made the decision to return, and I was reminded of it again when I bought a one-way ticket to SA. All I knew walking in to this year was that God would provide all I needed simply because He wants me here. I have no doubt in my mind that I am exactly where God wants me. Some people have questioned me on this, and my answer never changes. I know where God wants me, and I am here for that purpose, rain or shine.

In the three weeks that I have been here since my return, God has already provided in unexpected ways.  I don’t know how long He wants me here, but I can rest assured knowing He has already planned every day and He has already plotted out the provisions I will need to get where He wants me to go. I stand on firm ground looking out to the future with a world of experience at my back.  The wind is blowing me forward, and I cannot keep the smile from my face.