My daughter, Babita

I met Babita when she was 12, two years after we first placed her picture on our refrigerator.

It was the summer of 2009, and finally, yes, finally, after years of prayer, I was in Nepal, a country that God had placed in my heart before I ever knew a thing about it.

There she was, at a children’s home in Kathmandu, where she had come to stay a few years earlier. It was an awkward meeting in front of the other children, me handing her a teddy bear just like all the others that each of our children, who at that point numbered five, had tucked in their beds at home.

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The sting of hope

Lovely Facebook reminded me last week of a picture I took with my wife two years earlier while waiting in the Vancouver airport to board our plane to Nepal. And, surprisingly, it stung.

I didn’t see it coming. But two years after moving to — and leaving so shortly thereafter — Nepal, there are still parts of my heart that clearly need healing.

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Knowing God through a feather

I am sitting outside trying to prepare my lesson for tomorrow’s online French class that I teach (check out CBB+ if you’re interested!), but it’s been tough.

Not only is it a cool, lazy morning, but I am too busy watching my younger school-aged children sketch in their nature journals the feather of a hawk that is likely from the impudent rascal who flew off with one of our chicks earlier in the week.  Continue reading