I still remember the first time I said this correctly. It really is an easy phrase that means "See you later!” Wendy from Ukarumpa offered to show us around her village while we were visiting in Aiyura before coming to Kunai. We met her uncle, aunts, lots of cousins as we walked to their homes and gardens. During this time, Wendy kept drilling Laura Lee and I on Tok Pisin greetings and words. Laura Lee slipped naturally into speaking whatever Wendy asked, and I remember misspeaking this short phrase every incorrect way possible. It is only three words, but I am sure I found 15 ways to say it wrong. It was a fun day, with every person we met I would try to form the words in my head to say "hamamas lo lukim yu" (nice to see you) or "nem blo mi em Mari, na nem blo yu em wanem?" ( I am Marie, what is your name?) We wanted to practice our few skills and make Wendy proud for all of her efforts to teach us. And by the end of the day, I may have said it correct a few times… after we met the whole village.
Now, as I dreaded the last day of clinic coming and thought about my last month in Kunai, I would start to say "Lukim yu bihain!" to all my patients like normal. Yet I came to realize with all my favorite little kids and frequent patients, this may be the last time I see them. I was sad to not be able to say "Lukim yu bihain!" I want to see them grow up, want to see the kids in Sunday school finish memorizing their passage in Romans 5, want to see my girls finish learning their multiplication tables, or my deaf patient get a chance to learn sign language, want to be reassured that so-n-so finished treatment and that their family would be ok. I want to see Sadina deliver her baby, want to sing with choir again, want to take one more hike to the garden, or spend the night in Sila's hut again. It was not going to be easy to leave. It was like being ripped from our small world that kept our days full and filled our hearts.
Now looking back, this was my first Sunday back in the States. I missed Emelda and Mishek sitting in my lap. We sang Behold our God, and all I could think of were the Pidgin words for the chorus. Hamamas Oltaim has been stuck in my head along with Yumi Bai Bung Baimbai. I have only answered a few store clerks with Pidgin, so that seems to be ok. Yet there are two particular times that stand out from the past month, in which I rejoice to say, "Lukim yu bihain!"
During the first weeks of April, a dear older lady from church whom we have spent time with when she was sick before, fell ill again. Atnapi sat quietly near the fire in her son's hut when we came to visit. She seemed distant and tired, and within two weeks she went home to be with her Savior. She was ready to meet Him, and this time she was healed forever. As we sat in her "house cry" (culturally comparable to a viewing and funeral), we all gathered around the same fire in the same hut where we have fellowshipped before, but this time it was to grieve with the family for their loss.
I sat in a dark corner of the bush hut in mid-day around a little dying fire, next to the old body of a friend with whom two weeks ago we sat and gave her water. Sometimes I have felt like I have cried for no reason, but in truth there are a hundred reasons. Across the glowing embers on the opposite wall sit two wives of Ham, the father of Jenita whom we have treated in clinic for meningitis; next is Philemon's mom, who sees us frequently at clinic; to my left is Gideon our usher at church; and our friend Sila. Nearly ten more women and a few babies fill the other corners. As I watch, Kematu cries for her elder sister who has died. My heart is overwhelmed and I can only pray for those who will grieve over unbelieving family members - for Ham and his two wives, little Philemon, Kilau, Thurstan, Esten, Margaret, Jenita, Kaliam, Diana, Daniel and his wife, Jenatus, Jenu, Gitimingo, Tom, Elizabeth, Linda Pelvis, Ellen from Waikuna, and the list could go on. In the darkness of my corner of bamboo woven walls, there is freedom to cry - to mourn with the family and cry for the lost.
Do you hear the cry of the lost? On the outside they may put up a good front, seem stoic or tough, yet they mourn without hope. They grieve with utter despair. Some cope with self-harm. The guttural moans and high cries of those coming and going from the hut, make me shudder to imagine eternity without hope. And while the scene was one of sadness, the weeping quieted while whispers in the Kamea language darted across the room. Gideon gently took the opportunity to share that Atnapi's spirit is already with the Lord; because she believed in Jesus, she would not stay in the ground. He shared from Sunday's past sermon from John 11 how as Christians we share each other's burdens and have hope in Christ. This is His will, redeeming the time, for Christ desires that all come to know Him and not have to fear death. Atnapi was wearing her nicest royal blue meriblouse and skirt; she looked so peaceful. Yet even as we saw her body there, she was already in her new heavenly robe praising the Lord. For this we rejoice and can say, "Lukim yu bihain Atanapi!"
- But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.… Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words. 1 Thess 4:13-14, 17-18
Near the close of the month, one Wednesday evening, a family awaited us near the clinic. From a distant glance, we rejoiced to find Yaniamo and her family returned safely from Kerema! (For more on Yaniamo's story refer to January's post) She had recovered from her C-section and stayed in Kerema on the coast for monitoring until she was now able to walk home. What a joy to see them all again, after having spent so much time together in January! Again, they planned on staying a few days, during which time Yaniamo continued coming for treatment. While physically being cared for, she also expressed severe spiritual worries, fears of death, fears of going home, and was able to spend time with Pastor's wife, Anjuda. After several days, Yaniamo came to accept Christ as her personal Savior and receive His forgiveness of her sins by His death on the cross in her stead. Now as she goes home it is not alone; her Heavenly Father will go with her. She will have an incredible opportunity to be a light in a dark place starting with her family. As my sister in Christ, how sweet it was to see the Lord redeem Yaniamo and the incredibly painful situation, as He called her to Himself. Again we say, "Lukim yu bihain Yaniamo!" for one day we will meet again.
For all the other days between orienting our new nurses, treating Nikolas's burn, seeing the Snyder's off for furlough, celebrating with Brenda and her profession to follow Christ at the Easter Bung (meeting) in Watitako, spending time being taught how to finish my bilum (woven bag), visiting Seri while she recovered from her burn, rejoicing that Raychel's baby, Linette, Lini, and Tom are stable and gaining weight, enjoying my last week of English Club, and getting to see Snowi's baby - it was a full month of sweet memories. To spend Easter together was special to reflect on the sacrifice of Christ that unifies us as His children. On the hike over the mountain to the airstrip, the girls sang "How Deep the Father's Love for Us," and what a beautiful reminder this was to me. "I cannot boast in anything, no gifts no power, no wisdom, but I can boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection!"
Please keep praying for Kunai! Thank you to all who have upheld us with your prayers and support. The days were full and stretching- we saw genuine love, simple joys, and immense sorrow. And with every step, God has been, is, and will continue to be, all-sufficient, unchanging, deeply satisfying, and worthy of our trust.
"Lukim yu bihain" (see you later!)