Andrea Dizon

I’m going to try and speed through this blog. It’s just that I feel I owe it to my son to write a word for word account of D-day with him since I did it with his sister. Here goes… ladies, if you’re already iffy about having babies, you might not want to read this.

It is my expert opinion that childbirth, in the transition stage, can produce such changes in a woman to the likes of those as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I consider myself a fairly nice, calm and collected person. But on that day, I hardly recognized myself.

How it started. Happily and by God’s grace (it really was his timing), I had just finished finals that Thursday morning and went on to my regular Drs. appointment in the afternoon. I had been having pre-term labor (constant contractions, but my cervix wasn’t opening enough) and the Dr. had told me two weeks before that he could be arriving anytime soon. The news was a breath of fresh air to me as I was very uncomfortable already what with contractions and all I could barely breathe! But the little one just wasn’t letting go of the comfort of my womb just yet. Continuing on though, it was Thursday, at my Drs. office and as she checked my cervix, she did it rather vigorously (I think she did it on purpose to) she stimulated my contractions. I didn’t realize this at first. I went on home, and after getting home started having “cramps”. Now with Breanna, my water broke and I had gotten the epidural before the contractions were even remotely painful. So I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was really contractions as they were different from the ones that I had been having since it was lower on the abdomen. Anyway… the cramps started getting more painful so I called the Dr. (Jasper just came home from work, around 5 pm) and she said to come in to Labor and Delivery if it gets worse. It slowly started getting more painful and more frequent so we went to the hospital. On the way there they started coming in closer in between and I was already crying in the car. I ot set up in the room and that’s where all hell broke loose. I was already four centimeters dilated so they called the Dr. and she said to monitor me to see if I continue to dilate (I had already been to the hospital and back a few times prior to this). By now I was in indescribable pain. Indescribable, but for your sake I will try. Forgive my vulgarity for the sake of the written word, but it’s like pushing a watermelon out of your vagina - really. It was almost 30 seconds apart and absolutely excruciating, agonizing, severe, intense pain and I was screaming bloody murder in there as well. And this went on for 2 more hours. Nope, no swearing, I still had some control left. However, I did yell at my mom to tell the nurses to give me the epidural, and at my husband coz he kept leaving the room and my dad to get Breanna out of the room. At one point the nurse ( she said, she was just trying to calm me down) told me that I need to just breathe and stop screaming because I was scaring the other mothers to be. I flashed her a look, and sort of kept quiet, but how could I? It was nearly impossible. I was somewhat neglected and couldn’t get the epidural till two hours after I had been there because I came in as they were changing shifts. By the time they came in to give it to me I was already 8 centimeters dilated. The nurse told my mom that she had to leave, and I pleaded to let her stay. She said ‘no’ so my mom left the room and she assisted me with getting the epidural. Somewhat sheepishly I inadvertently said “I don’t like you”. Look, unless you felt the pain, you really wouldn’t understand. Once the epidural kicked in and I was back to my normal self, I apologized to the nurse and explained myself. She said it was alright and that she understood. However, the amount of epidural they gave me was only enough to take most of the pain away, but not the pressure. And I could still move my legs. Once Gabriel started to come out, it only took about no more than 15 minutes of pushing and he was out. But the pain and the pressure of the whole delivery process was very real. With Breanna, the delivery was painless, but the recovery was longer and more painful, due to the episiotomy. With Gabriel, it was the worst pain I’d ever experienced, but two hours later I was feeling normal again and ready to be up and about. He was born at 9:30 pm on August 14 at 6 pounds 3 oz, and 17 3/4 inches. But golly gee, with that pain, no wonder they don’t let you decide on ligation while you’re going through it! The doctor and nurses said you eventually forget the pain of delivery. I really don’t know… we’ll just have to see! Oh and don’t worry, I also apologized to my mom, dad and husband. Although given the circumstances, it really should be an understandable and forgivable situation. And from what I hear about other mothers that have delivered and how they reacted to their spouses, my husband got off pretty easy!

I have my past Discipleship Training School students to thank for the snippets of memory that slowly come back to me as I peruse through their pictures of Australia and all our outreaches combined.

One of those memories was when we went as a whole school one weekend on a camping trip out in the Australian bush, by a beach of course! The best part of it was that, one of my housemates (another staff on the base) is a surfer, and she suggested that I take her surfing bag and use it as a sleeping bag. What an idea! She said it was a common practice amongst surfers who like to camp out on the beach in order to catch an early morning wave. And so I did. I brought her surfing bag with me (pretty long it was, and so oddly shaped as it was getting packed into the trailer along with everyone’s neatly rolled bed mats and sleeping bags). It’s of course, shaped like a surf board with a zipper, like a sleeping bag almost and it’s texture is tarp-like, durable thick plastic with pads inside. I used it those two nights to sleep on the beach and it actually was very nice, cozy and warm inside (I had my sleeping bag in there too). Very practical. It was also prefect to keep me dry from the morning dew. Quite an experience! I highly recommend it should you ever wish to go camping by the beach and have an extra surfboard bag lying around somewhere.

Check out the Australia 2004-2005 album for pictures.

50 Things To Do Before I Die:

(In random order, except for #1)

1. Teach my children to become servants & to love God with all their heart.
2. Write a book. Or books.
3. Produce a major theatrical production.
4. Perform in a major theatrical production.
5. Learn how to fly a plane.
6. Become a flight attendant, even just for a day.
7. Be fluent in French, Spanish and ASL.
8. Lead an outreach team to every continent of the world.
9. Reach, if not all countries, at least 100 countries more.
10. Climb Mt. Everest.
11. Learn how to surf.
12. Drive across the USA from coast to coast.
13. Teach English in China.
14. See every country in Europe.
15. Visit Winston Churchill’s grave.
16. Climb an Egyptian pyramid.
17. Bicycle on the Pacific Coast Highway.
18. Start my own business.
19. Swim in the Dead Sea.
20. Stand on the Great Wall.
21. Evangelize a whole tribe in the Amazon Jungle.
22. Preach on Mars Hill.
23. Ride a Venetian gondola.
24. Attend another Olympics.
25. Be in a movie.
26. Go scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef.
27. Watch an orchestra perform in Vienna.
28. Meet Andrea Bocelli.
29. Ride a camel in the desert.
30. Take a picture of Mt. Rushmore.
31. See Old Faithful.
32. Put up a hospital for the poor in Concepcion.
33. Visit the Louvre.
34. Shake hands with at least one US president.
35. Publish a travel article.
36. Take a hot air balloon ride.
37. Kiss in front of the Taj Mahal.
38. Be an interpreter.
39. Play the bagpipes on Scottish hills.
40. Compose a song.
41. Learn how to ballroom dance.
42. Visit the Holy Land.
43. Get baptized in the Jordan River.
44. Ride a boat by the Niagara Falls.
45. See the Colosseum in Rome.
46. See the Aurora Borealis in Alaska.
47. Put up schools in the sugarcane farms in the Philippines.
48. Meet a member of the English Royal family.
49. Spend as much time as possible with my family.
50. Reach one more for Jesus. 

Already Done:

1. Been to the Olympics in Barcelona.
2. Led people to the Lord.
3. Preached on a street corner.
4. Swam in a beach in Bali, Indonesia.
5. Rode an elephant in Sri Lanka.
6. Stood by the Berlin wall.
7. Posed with a statue of Martin Luther.
8. Visited the Grand Canyon.
9. Taken a cruise vacation.
10. Visited an orphanage in South Africa.
11. Helped tsunami survivors in Sri Lanka.
12. Done an African safari.
13. Tasted kangaroo meat.
14. Camped in the Australian bush.
15. Performed mission and charity work.
16. Snorkelled in the Bahamas.
17. Bungee jumped.
18. Swam with dolphin.
19. Crossed Golden Gate bridge.
20. Married and had kids.

Throwing such a fuss about moving to Louisiana now seems so ridiculous when I compare our lifestyle here to that of what we left behind in California. Don’t get me wrong. There are days, and nights, when I miss the hustle and bustle of the big city; the tall buildings, the accessibility of all the shops and malls galore, the plethora of fine dining restaurants to choose from and the easy access to Asian novelties and commodities still hold their charm. But when I think of what our life is like here - considering factors such as my schedule being a full-time mom, wife and student with a part time job and my husband’s work that’s a 30 to 45 minute drive over the vast Lake Pontchartrain - we’re doing comparably well in the sense that we still find adequate time for friends, family and leisure activities. It’s not extravagant or plentiful, but it’s ample. Unlike before, when 24 hours were inadequate to accomplish all your daily tasks, or the fact that one job did not seem enough to provide for the whole family. God the Father is absolutely over-and-beyond generous with us this time, it seems (Of course, He always is. But that’s just how it seems). And must I reiterate how marvelously friendly the people are down here? You could scarcely spend an hour outside without someone greeting you a cheery “Hi sweetie/dear, how y’all doin’?” And the best part is, they genuinely want to know! I remember our first time in WalMart (Did I mention that all the WalMarts here are supercenters? No, really.) Jasper and I were so afraid that we kept our full attention on Breanna while shopping for groceries, which is somewhat difficult when you’re unfamiliar with the location of the things you’re looking for, because it seemed that there was always someone stopping by and taking fancy to her and telling us how absolutely charming they found her that we were afraid she’d just vanish out of our sight! Needless to say, apparently almost everyone here is just as cordial and it’s such a natural phenomenon that people have time to stop and say “hi”.

Like I had aforementioned in my blog about my wrestling match with God, I always know that His plans for us are for the best because He knows what is best for us. But I am as obstinate as I am human and would love to argue otherwise anyway. And He takes it so well that I love that my relationship is that personal and close with Him. See, we understand each other.

Now, life on this side of eternity will always be far from perfection. I thought that I had found utopia elsewhere with an experience I would have likened to ambrosia had it not turned out to have the most bitter after-taste. But nevertheless, I believe that right now, I’m living the abundant life that my Father has meant for me to be living. I am still looking forward to the future and to what it holds. I’m still convinced that my Father has greater things in store. But after some painful couple of years of yearning, striving and trying to make something else happen and wanting to be somewhere else other than the present, I have learned to be content, truly content like Paul said in Philippians 4:12, with where I am at and with what I am doing.

It took only two years and a half to figure out the true source of my mysterious inward frustrations. What I discovered lay so much deeper than I wished to believe, buried in denial and unrealized resentment towards God. But I’m getting ahead of myself. What I finally came to understand came as a big surprise even to me, and what it is, I’m about to tell you. I had an idol. A false god. I worshipped the image of something other than the one true God. “How can this be?!” you ask. Because it was something I held in my heart and desired even more than God Himself. The name of the god? YWAM Perth. Don’t laugh. It’s a serious illness, and unless you have been there, seen what I have seen, touch what I had touched and experienced what I had experienced, you will never understand. It was my utopia. Heaven on earth. Everyone in the community is absolutely in love with the person of God, worship brought you to the seventh heaven and reaching out to the lost and discipling the nations was the core value of every being. And I worshipped it. I may not have realized that until now. It’s what I ached for, and craved for. Always looking back to the past and wishing I was there. Never realizing I had formed in my heart a bitterness against God for taking me away from that ideal place of my life. Blamed Him, even, for circumstances that arised. Of course not! I would never admit that to myself. I know all the verses, all the quotes… I teach and preach them myself. “All things work together for the good..”, “Every good and perfect gift comes from God…” and of course “For I know the plans I have for you…” etc. I know all that. I know that I have every reason in the world to be grateful to God. I have a wonderful husband, the most beautiful daughter in the world, a son on the way, parents who are supportive, a ministry to serve in and often travel like nobody’s business. In other words, I’m living a very blessed life! But night after night, and dream after dream, now I realize that if I were truly to be honest with myself, I will always be wondering “what if?” What if I was back in YWAM Perth, doing what I love most to do, with people of equal passion and values? I cannot move forward contentedly because I am stuck with living in my past. YWAM has a saying that is frighteningly true - Ruined for the Ordinary. And it’s right. I have been ruined for the ordinary. Because in reality, not everyone around me loves God with their whole heart and strives to live a life of holiness, and not every Christian weeps for the salvation of the lost and of nations. I see now that even the founding of Over the Edge could just be an attempt to bring part of that life to me, when I cannot be where it is. Although of course, the vision still came from God. YWAM Perth had become my standard for living, and sadly I even compare my husband and friends to the people I know there. I liken it to an addiction, because it’s in my blood and I will always be seeking it out and craving it. And now I know it, I have to repent of it. Don’t get me wrong, YWAM Perth is not evil. In fact, it is a lot of good. It is my own feelings, desires, my own issues that have caused me to sin. Yes, ungratefulness and loving something, like a lifestyle, more than God Himself is a sin. I now understand that I have to come to terms with God about what He is currently doing in my life. I have give up my desire to want to be somewhere else, when He has placed me where I need to be. I have to give up the past, and to live in the present. And the most painful part? If God never wanted me to go back to YWAM Perth, I have to be ok with that. Re-entry into the “real” world, which is a fallen world, is much harder than I expected it would be. And the road to recovery is not an easy one. But God is still good. He is still God, and His grace is more than enough for me. The important thing to remember is that He loves me, and only has my best interest in His heart. And His thoughts are higher than mine.

What Do You Want to Do With Your Life?

Everything. Throughout my entire life I have been told that God has so much more in store for me, therefore I have grown up expecting greater things in life. I want everything that the world has to offer, but the world cannot give me what I want. I had dream, which I dreamed, and envisioned, and played over and over in my head from the time that I was 17 years old until I was 21 years old. To some people, it may have just been thoughts of grandeur. To others, an unattainable ambition. Why? Because it was the kind of dream not many young people my age would dare to dream. What was the dream? It was to take church youth, of high school to college age, overseas, out of their comfort zone, and lead them on the most radical, roller coaster, adventure ride of their life in missions. Those four years I wrestled with God over that vision. I hungered for it, wept for it, prayed over it and fasted for it. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life, nor have I ever felt more purposeful knowing that this dream had come from God, and it meant something. It was a dream that I knew was beyond me - was bigger than I am. That’s what convinced me that it was a God-thing. And with the relationship that I had with God, I knew God woud see His plans through to the end, no matter how long it took, as long as someone was willing to partner with Him. Granted, I saw a lot of opposition. Some from people I would never have expected it to come from. It was either because some saw me as unqualified (despite the fact that I had more experience than they in missions) simply because of my age, others because they had not the courage in and of themselves to dare to dream such a dream and were jealous that such a young brat as I would venture into it. But in 2006, newly married and four months pregnant, saw the coming to fruition of this immense vision that God had generously granted me. There was an indescribable joy that came from the satisfaction of a dream realized, and out of that, the knowledge that God has just favored you with an amazing opportunity, and it was fulfilled.

There were so many things going on in my life at the same time that I was at such a high from all the rising action, I did not realize when the dénouement hit. All of a sudden, a question needed to be answered. What now?

Don’t misinterpret my seemingly despondent soliloquy. Life has never been more blissful, nor can God be more at His generous best, than now. Nonetheless, there is a penetrating, gnawing, restless kind of yearning in my soul. The kind that I have never known. I am content with where I am at, and at the same time cannot help but to want more. I want more! Let me explain something. During the time that I lived with YWAM Perth, Australia I was used to a certain kind of lifestyle, where it almost seemed like I was running, even in my sleep. As a training staff and discipler, I was at the beck and call of students. While there, I was daily challenged to excel, know more and grow in maturity and relationship with God than my students. My brain was constantly in use, as well as my spirit. And because of all the giving out of myself that I had to do, 7 days a week, sometimes 24 hours a day, I knew I had to always go to God to get my cup refilled. And when God gives, He also increases the amount that we receive. I was constantly growing and giving out. It also took a physical toll on me. However, God’s grace was always more than enough, and He never gave me more than what I could handle. I loved discipling, and traveling around the world while doing it, and that’s what I did daily. I was at my best.

I’m not saying that now is not the best that it could ever be. But the drastic difference in lifestyles, even almost three years later, is something I still have not adjusted to. At this present moment, I am enjoying being a wife and a mother. I have always had a penchant for domestic and housewifely duties. It’s in my nature to be nurturing and caring, sometimes to a fault. We travel as often as we can either for mini-vacations, or Jasper’s business trips. And, although it’s not absolutely necessary but boredom and lack of physical stimulation is one of my worst enemies, I’m presently working at a job I absolutely enjoy. Cashiering might not be everybody’s dream job, but you know what? I am very good at it, am very good at customer service and have had at least 90% of my customers actually say that to me while I am waiting on them. And I am REALLY enjoying it. Not everybody can say that about their job. Sure, it is not as grand as my former job of being a paraeducator. How many people can hold their head up and proudly say “I am a cashier”? But through this repeat experience, I have discovered that my forte is really interacting and serving people. So what’s wrong? Sure, I can go back to school. Although, I don’t believe education is the key. Yes, during this time my brain has been going into a temporary atrophy for lack of invigorating, cerebral action. I crave mental stimulation and engaging conversations. I am taking the LVN program in the fall at a local private school. But that’s just to jumpstart things and is merely a stepping stone. But in all honesty, no amount of education can satisfy the yearning for greater things in my heart. As David Ruis’, from Vineyard, song goes “there must be more”!

I am a jack-of -all trades, and master of a few. I want to do everything, but the world cannot offer that to me. But I believe after all this mental agony, the Holy Spirit has finally disclosed the true source of my predicament. I need to dream again. I need to ask God for a vision, and a specific goal. Something that is beyond me, beyond my capacity that I can look forward to with all the eagerness and expectation of one who is about to give birth. Yes, ironically, I am also about to give birth. Every great and honorable Bible teacher and evangelist will tell you that “God has a plan for your life”. I truly believe that and live on it. But the fact of the matter is, the Bible says that God has “planS” for your life. So what happens after one plan has ended? And there, I have solved my mystery. I need to move on to the next great thing that God has for me. I think that being married and having children are huge bonus points. I know that there is something more. Something bigger. Something greater in store. And so, in order to conclude this grand soliloquy, I bid you adieu and leave you with these words “God, I want all that You have for me!”

(Although all the information in here remains intact, I will be periodically reconstructing this blog just to clean it up and bring it up to par, so keep checking in. Thanks! - Kristine)

I had the privilege of being born into a Christian family in Manila, Phils. where my father was a pastor and my mother a supervisor at DSWD. The first few years of my life were as normal as it could be until the time when my parents faith in God and obedience rocked our worlds and normal is the last word you could ever use to describe the life that we lived.

It all started in 1992 when my father decided to join a children’s mission team to the Barcelona Olympics to be the team chaplain. I was all of seven years old then. I joined the team for their training camp which consisted of learning how to give a life testimony and how to do dramas and dances on street corners. Halfway through the camp my dad told me to ask God whether or not I should be joining the team for the 6 weeks outreach to Spain and Germany. So I did, and I felt God said yes. My childlike attitude did not doubt at all that I would be going on this mission trip and excitement readily filled my heart. After all, God said it, right? Unbeknownst to me was that my family lacked the finances to send both my father and me on the trip, and since the original plan only called for my father to go, they were going to leave me with my mother at the airport when the time came for the team to leave on outreach. Having no inkling of this doubt in their adult finite minds, I packed my bags, learned the dances and prepared as any seven year old ever could for her first missionary trip and first time ever out of the little world of Marulas that she knew. I was literally counting days. All this while my parents kept asking me “are you sure God said that you would go?” and every time I answered with the same impatient “yes, God said that I’m going”. As the day arrived to leave we were all at airport, and I brought my luggage along - because I’m going! At the airport was when they broke it to me that ‘no’ I’m not going to Spain and I’m not going on that airplane with the rest of the team, I’m going home with my mom. Shattered, I broke into tears inside the airport vestibule not believing what I was hearing. How could that be, since God said I was gonna go? Time passed, I was still sitting on my luggage crying, with the team checked in just waiting to board the plane. One hour before the plane left one of the staff members, a German by the name of Dagmar, was running towards me waving something in the air that I couldn’t quite make out because of the blur of my tears. “Kristine, Kristine! Do you know what this is?” No, I did not. “It’s your ticket! You’re coming with us!” There was not time to feel anything. We ran to the check in counter, where it was still another miracle that they even let me in because it was already too late and the plane was about to pull away.

Needless to say, those 6 weeks that we spent in Spain and Germany - preaching, evangelising, dancing and sharing the word of God on street corners and everywhere else that we could, they were the most life defining moments in my life. It was then that I knew what God had wanted me to do, and what I wanted to do with my life. I was going to be a missionary.

was never again in my vocabulary after that season of my life. And it was only the beginning. My father left his profession as a pastor (my mother had longed quit her job in obedience to God) and together they pursued their calling to become full-time missionaries, bringing the family team along with them. It wasn’t long before God called them to become training staff of the Discipleship Training School of the mission organization they were with, which meant a move from our base in Antipolo, Philippines to Perth, Australia. The DTS is 6 month training that equips young (and I mean - young - but also old) people from all over the world to become missionaries. The first 3 months is an intense, live in training with different topics each week such as Relationships, Missions and Evangelism. The next 3 months is an overseas mission trip to live out what they had learned. The family was always together functioning as a team, and it was during one of these overseas outreach that I also got to minister through dance and sharing my personal testimony in the Muslim country of Indonesia. I was 9 years old. Our organization does not discriminate in age when it comes to being used by God to evangelize the nations, therefore there was constant opportunity for me to share the gospel. After two years God called us back to the Philippines, where my father went into church planting. During this time I was 12 years old and already very much involved in the ministry. We started having Bible studies with the poor sugar cane farmers, and I saw this as an opportunity to start a children’s ministry. I would go with him, and th the help of a cousin and our helpers, I would gather the poor kids and start by teaching them a Bible story, followed by the feeding. Most of these kids are so poor, they really only just come for the food. But at least they stay to hear the story and that’s a seed sown. That ministry continues on today.

But it didn’t take long for familiarity to sink in. I had my struggles and demons to handle. My parents saw what was happening and pulled me out of school immediately. All throughout these years I had mostly been homeschooled through a Christian Curriculum. Every year of my life I’ve been to a different school. Sometimes not even finishing a year. Anyways, I ended up testing out of high school and going to a Junior College and getting my degree in three semesters. During three years so far that I had been in the US, I started a Bible study in my high school, helped my father with church planting by leading worship, starting a youth group, and doing Sunday school for the little kids. I had some things to look forward to because of the Filipino Southern Baptist Mission where the youth from the Fil-Am churches would meet together for our annual camp, youth rallies, conventions and other things, so I did have some Christian Filipino friends amongst my peers and our counselors and I was very active with the youth ministry and the camp was my forte. During this time I did a DTS in Chico, CA. Our outreach was in Fiji, and apart from the evangelism, the dramas, preaching, etc. I especially enjoyed being able to put on a clown suit to the joy of the Fijian children that we ministered to. Even the adults found it amusing!

At the age of 19, God called me to part from my family-team by leading me to staff DTSes in Perth, Australia. I had the privilege of staffing two amazing schools, had amazing students, most of whom came back to volunteer with us (did I mention we were all full-time volunteers?) and those that did not went on home to fulfil whatever God called them to do there. I had the opportunity co-lead teams to South Africa, Sri Lanka and India where God truly met us, changed the lives of our students and used our teams to lead many people to the Lord. Everything that we did, evangelism was our focus. We did things such as pray for people in hospitals; ministered at prisons, leper communities, orphanages, refugees from the tsunami, AIDS hospices; shared at churches, youth rallies; and did a lot of one-on-one and mass evangelism. During this time I was also able to take a Biblical Studies Core Course where we learned to study the Bible indepthly and in contex. How to give a sermon and Bible studies, etc. I was also in the middle of staffing this school when God called me home to California, cutting my commitment to the base short.

Taking a short detour…

During the time that I had been away I was in communication with everyone and sending newsletters to pastors, friends, family and of course, our association youth president. From my understanding, when one of your youth leaves to go on mission, you communicate with them your support through prayer and communication. When this didn’t happen for a year, I was quite resentful. Because of visa issues, I was required to be on American soil before a year had passed, so I had three weeks of vacation in the US towards the end of the year just in time for the wedding of one of our youth counselors who were close friends of mine - and also my birthday. I knew our youth president/chairman would be at the wedding, but resolved to be as aloof and distant as he had been while I was gone. My body language must have spoken a lot which brouth him guilt because that night he kept asking me how my mission was, striving to make conversations, sat at our table and even shared his food (all the youth know - he doesn’t share food). I then felt very guilty because of my immature actions. His sister was a close friend of mine, having bonded during our annual pastors’ and families retreats (their father being one of the prominent pastors in our association). We had tried to spend time together before I left the year before. Because that didn’t happen, we tried to schedule it again while I was in the country. I invited him to join us in hanging out and he said he would. That evening, his sister stood us up (though we do have her to thank for that later on - even if it wasn’t intentional) and we ended up spending the night together. Surprisingly, we didn’t run out of things to say to each - or that might have been me - even if the beginning of the evening was a bit awkward. Needless to say, that wasn’t our last night together. Even if I had passed it off as nothing (of course it was nothing, I was just a mere camper, he was a counselor! Oh and add the fact that he’s 13 years older than me. Oh and it was only last year that I was teasing him to another counselor.) when I left to return to Australia, we did keep in communication. Plus, I don’t think 3 hours on the phone long distance isn’t really nothing. And this time, he actually did email back. It wasn’t long before we started praying about starting a romantic relationship. But that didn’t happen until I was suddenly called home in the middle of the year.

Back in California, we believed it was God who brought us together. We were all of three weeks going out before we were engaged. Both of us were leaders in our Christian community, both our fathers were pastors so there was much at stake and Satan would just love to destroy whatever God had given us. We didn’t pretend to be invincible to temptations and we saw no reason to put off a wedding, so a wedding there was going to be, in four months.

January 2006 we were married and most of you know the rest. Four months later we conceived Breanna and something else. Myself, along with Jasper, my dad and other youth leaders in our community pioneered a ministry called Over The Edge where we take young people with a heart for missions on a short term mission trip overseas. In 2006 Kuya Jasper, myself - with Breanna in the womb - and Kuya John (now Pastor John) led a team of 12 to two different locations in the Philippines.

In 2007, I led a team of 24, co-led by Pastor John to Philippines and Hong Kong where we saw more than 2000 receive Jesus, 18 people baptized and an orphanage on the verge of being born.

In 2008 we are hoping to lead another team to the Beijing Olympics after a training in the Philippines.

Now, I am waiting in expectancy to what God has for me next. My life has been one huge, awesome and amazing roller coaster ride that God had taken me on. Some used to pity me and say “poor you, you never had a normal childhood, you were always moving around. You’re not allowed to go out. Because your parents lived by faith, you couldn’t always have what you wanted and had second-hand clothes.” I used to believe that, not to a huge degree. But now I look back and I think “thank God my parents weren’t like ‘normal’ parents but had a huge faith and trained me to live by my faith in God”. Now, I’m a wife and a mother and a student. And I am once again helping out my dad with church planting, and my husband with his business. My mission days are not over. That’s in my blood now. I’m just waiting to see the next extraordinary thing that God has in store for me.

It was probably the scariest day of my life. Ok, so everyone was telling me how unusually good-natured my baby is. She could have Number Two going up her back and she still doesn’t cry. So as far as I was concerned I had no problems at all. Sure I’ve heard how terrible babies get when they were at that stage, but my baby has been an exception to typical baby behavior so far. And she also did really well during the mission trip, so how was I to know? We arrived in California from the Philippines around 7 pm and I had about three hours of sleep during the flight. We got home around 9 or 9:30ish. Breanna was asleep, and I just let her. We had an early flight to Connecticut the next day and I decided I was just going to stay up the night coz I had some packing to do. Plus, it was only a domestic flight. What could possibly happen?

We headed for the airport at around 5 am. Breanna had woken up in the middle of her sleep screaming. That should of triggered something, plus I knew she had a tooth coming out. I figured she just had a bad dream. Finally, we were at the gate. Thank God I had the presence of mind to only bring one carry-on! I was just looking forward to seeing Jasper after 6 weeks and to visit with his aunt and family in Jersey and New York. It started when we got on the plane bound for Newark where Jasper’s aunt and uncle were to pick us up and we’d head for Connecticut. Fortunately, the seat next to me was empty. Breanna started getting a fever, and then the crying started. I wasn’t prepared for such a moment so I had no medicine. She could not be calmed down and I left her pacifier in Tracy. She was absolutely miserable. I remember getting on board planes and seeing women with their babies and thinking “Oh my God I hope I’m not on the plane with that baby.” How I wish I was more merciful in my thinking. Breanna screamed up a storm in the carriage, and the lady on my side of the plane would xchange smirks and glances with the lady across the aisle from her. I just know they were not previously acquainted til my misfortune brought about a surge of camaraderie between them. One of the looks was “well, she should have known better than to have a baby so young.” Though that made me feel resentful, some people were incredibly kind. A couple with a baby lent me their baby book to show Breanna. The poor thing was terribly upset and also vomiting because she’d been crying so hard. She suddenly got hot all over an having chills because of her fever. It was all I could do to not cry with her. I brought her to the lavatory and washed her hoping to cool her down. My greatest fear was that I would have to land the plane and find an infirmary. Thank God it didn’t come to that.

Nope, it didn’t end there. We managed to get off in North Carolina where we were to catch our connecting flight. Our flight into NC was delayed and our gate was far from where we were getting off, so I I had to run with Breanna in a sling and our carry-on in tow only to find, our flight was cancelled and there’s none leaving till the next day. Keep in mind that I had not slept for 48 hours by this time, no shower and smelling of regurgitated breast milk. I called Jasper half-screaming, half-crying and he said he would try to get us into another flight. In the meantime, there were long lines all over the place trying to get to our destination, I knew it wouldn’t work to be on stand-by. I scoured the airport for infant drops only to find none. I was exhausted, spent, and Breanna was still pretty much upset. Everyone from our flight knew who I was because I was getting familiar looks as I walked around the airport. That, and probably coz people were wondering what a 16 year old with a baby was doing in an airport alone. Jasper called back and said that he got us seats in another flight, except this time it was going to Philly, where his aunt and uncle will have to pick us up. The flight wasn’t for a while so I decided to buy some soup and cold water for myself and Bree. I was at a really emotional high, especially after I had just had to almost consider spending a night at a place unfamiliar to me with no one I knew and a baby who was sick. Looking for a quiet place to sit, nurse and take care of Bree was impossible, till I found out that they had a private lounge for military and families. I went in, and they had a private room for nursing babies. I cried. It was the most refreshing thing I had in 48 hours. Sure it was just a small room no bigger than a closet. But it was air conditioned, complimentary baby necessities, etc. I took care of Bree till she was all cleaned up then went back downstairs. I hadn’t searched the lounge out and missed on dinner that they had further in. When I went to our gate I found out that it was full too. More calls made. I also received a call from Jasper’s aunt to cry in front of the gate attendant so they’d let me in. Desperate as I was, I wasn’t sure I was desperate. Anyways, Jasper said he had confirmed seats for us, but going to the gate, the attendant said I still had to wait and if I had gotten my boarding ticket. Mistaking her to mean that I was on stand-by and having on 15 minutes left till the plane left, I ran out to ticketing where I found out I did have a seat and that now it was too late to get on the plane. This time, I realy did burst into tears then and there. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. She must’ve felt really sorry for me coz she called the gate attendant and told her off for telling me I was on stand-by. She told me then to rush to the gate. Ran again, past security and everything, Breanna somewhat crying, I’m crying… people were nice and letting me go before them only to find that what they meant by me having a confirmed seat was to wait if someone didn’t show up, then I get a seat. How is that confirmed? There were people who were waiting like me who felt sorry for me. But the instant their name was called up, they jumped up and almost ran to the door almost afraid that their seat would be given up to me. I’m still a little bit crying by the way. I couldn’t stop it anymore. Anyways, I did get on the plane, and this time Breanna was asleep. I was seated next to two flight attendant’s on a hop who were kind and asked me if I’d eaten yet, so they got me extra snacks. I must’ve really looked pitiful coz all of a sudden the other passengers were giving me their snacks. Breanna slept for most of the flight till the end, when she started getting cranky again. Got off at the Philly airport, no luggage to wait for since it was in Newark. Some people recognized me and were coming up to me saying “oh you did get a flight after all! Good for you!” Somebody stopped and prayed for me.

OH WELL! … so his aunt and uncle arrived, and we made the 5 hour drive to Connecticut, stopped by to get some real food first. You know the rest. If not, you should coz it was all in the other blog.