Life at Lomalinda had gotten off to a great start!

Life at Lomalinda was off to a great start!

After a month of living out of suitcases, that morning we had landed in a little twin-engine at our family’s destination, Lomalinda, a mile and a half square, a dot in the wide-open plains.

When we stepped out of the plane, hot, humid air pressed against us. But it was clean. We would no longer suffer from Bogotá’s exhaust-filled, chest-burning, eye-stinging air. I’d soon learn that Lomalinda’s people breathed some of the purest in the world.

A smiling crowd had gathered at the hangar to welcome us. Among other kind greetings from the group, a lady stepped toward us, smiled, and introduced herself as Karen McIntosh, our pilot’s wife. She said she and Ron would “Big Brother” and “Big Sister” us for the first few days to help us settle.

A man stepped over—a man with kind blue eyes and a quick smile—and introduced himself as David Hockett. He loaded us and our bags into a Jeep-type vehicle and drove slowly over lumpy one-lane dirt tracks, up, down, and around thick green shoulders of hills, steamy in the tropical heat. He brought us to a stop in front of a low brick house. “Welcome home!” he grinned.

I was more than eager to nest—to create a loving, secure home for the four of us, but for months I’d worried—would we live in a grass hut with a mud floor?

Smiling, David Hockett ushered us out of the withering noontime sun and into the wide, screened-in porch. He unlocked the back door and we stepped inside.

It was no mud hut! The house resembled, for the most part, a North American home—a modest home, and it was small, but it was a pleasant surprise.

And then David drove us to the dining hall and introduced us to people who would soon become our friends and colleagues—all of them smiling and welcoming us.

It was when David started introducing us to people that I had to confront a raw, bleeding sore in my heart, an ache I’d stuffed deep down inside and had not let myself think about for weeks.

As I told you last week, the worst part of moving to Lomalinda, the part I couldn’t bear to put into words, was separating my kids from their grandparents, aunts, and uncles. The thought of that lacerated my heart and crushed my soul.

So what I was about to experience was beyond my wildest dreams. The best part of that meal, the best part of the whole day, of the whole year, happened when David introduced us to families in the dining hall, explaining to us, “Here, young people call adults Aunt and Uncle rather than Mr. or Mrs.”

And then he said Lomalinda even had a grandmother, Jim Miller’s mom, a gray-haired, always-smiling lady, and everyone called her “Grandma Miller.”

When David told us that,

my heart did a wobble and a loop-de-loop.

I had left Seattle grief-stricken

over separating Matt and Karen from their grandparents,

aunts, and uncles,

but even on our first day in Lomalinda,

God provided substitute aunts, uncles,

and a grandma for my kids.

Yessireeee! Life in Lomalinda was off to a great start!

So much of life had been out of my control for the preceding month, and I was deeply weary of the travel and changes and challenges. And there in Lomalinda, in our first couple of hours, God heaped blessings upon me and Dave and our kids.

Lloyd John Ogilvie writes of our need to listen, to be still and listen to God, who says things like this to us:

“Let go of your own control and humbly trust Me to guide you each step of the way. . . . Picture and live My best for your life. Don’t spend your life worrying . . . live your life to the fullest now. . . . And be sure of this—the ‘good work’ I have begun in you will be accomplished. You have nothing to fear. I love you!” (Quiet Moments with God)

My heart overflows when I look back

and see how gracious and loving God was to us—

through our new neighbors and co-workers—

during those first two hours in Lomalinda.

At the time,

life was happening at such a fast pace

that it was all a blur,

but I’ve never forgotten those welcoming kindnesses.

If you are one of those Lomalinda people who welcomed us,

thank you. I can never thank you enough.