Tuesday, February 23. Our first full day in the Philippines. We had traveled for 48 hours, slept in an airport and eaten dinner in Malaysia. I woke up rested and ready for debrief. And I was sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair when Robby found me and told me I needed to call home.

I knew it right then. Grandma was gone. In a sense, I had been waiting for the call, but the timing threw me for a loop. Right before debrief, God, really? I called mom and she filled me in on what had happened. On Friday night, grandma had taken a turn for the worse. They knew it was going to be fast, and it was. We didn’t get to talk for long, but it was good to hear her voice and know that the rest of the family was doing alright.

I cried, alone for a while and finally ate breakfast. My team and several other friends lifted me up in prayer before we headed into our morning session of debrief. And that morning session was rough. I couldn’t sing. The news was too new. It just plain hurt, and all I could do was cry in the back of the room. And I found a friend who had tissues and listened to our squad parent David as he spoke to us.

Immediately after the session, my friend Auston turned to me and asked if I wanted to go visit some of his friends that afternoon. He realized the day before that the church he had worked with two summers earlier was only 15 minutes from where we were staying for debrief and he wanted to surprise them. In all honesty, I was not excited about going. I kind of wanted to sit and grieve that afternoon. But I felt some urging to go, to keep moving forward in the midst of the pain I felt.

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So after lunch, Auston and Caleb and I headed out on a little adventure. We rode a jeepney to the area where the church was and I could feel joy coming back into my day. Caleb was simply excited to be in the Philippines and experiencing local transportation. And Auston was over the moon at the opportunity to see his friends. I found myself smiling as we rode crammed in the jeepney, and smiling even bigger as we walked up the street to the church.

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There was nothing but joy as Auston walked into the church office and was greeted with surprised smiles and hugs. Caleb and I couldn’t stop smiling. The excitement of the reunion spread so fast in there. And they were incredibly hospitable. We sat and talked with the associate pastor and some of the women that work in the church. They brought us refreshments and we sat and listened to all of them catch up on what had been going on in the church the past two years.

Two of the guys Auston had been friends with were already at the site of the youth center, so we traveled down there, visited them and then went to a local high school as well where Auston had taught several English classes when he was living here. We were trying to hurry back to the church because they were excited about feeding us the local delicacy.

They had an amazing spread of food waiting for us. Some of the best mangoes I’ve ever eaten, and some other local fruits that were so tasty. But the local delicacy had us a little scared. It’s called balot and is a half-formed duck egg that has been cooked. You have to eat it warm and there’s a certain protocol you follow. Step 1: Crack the egg on the bigger end. Step 2: Tip it back and drink the juice. (It kinda tastes like chicken noodle soup broth). Step 3: Peel of the rest of the shell. Step 4: Eat what’s inside. (This looks different for locals than it does foreigners. The locals eat it section by section. The foreigners put it all in their mouth so they don’t have to look at it and think about what they are eating. This is what we did).

Caleb and I, for some reason, were super excited about trying this. And I have to admit, I kind of enjoyed it. I would eat it again. The consistency was like that of a boiled egg, but the taste was like chicken noodle soup. Interesting, but good. Plus, it’s always nice to give the locals a little entertainment as they watch foreigners try something completely new.

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God gave me joy in the midst of my grief. Plain and simple. He works like that. We don’t have to sit stagnant and wallow when something happens in our lives. He gives us the grace to move forward. We can cry and walk at the same time. And sometimes, he gives you a taste of local culture, and your mourning can turn to rejoicing. It felt like I lived out that verse in Romans 12 when Paul says, “mourn with those who mourn and rejoice with those who rejoice.” And even though there’s grief, God is good, and He has me here for a reason.