Our children were patient, well-behaved despite a long journey in constant rain.
God did not promise His children to be free of storms, but gave a sunshine promise of His abiding presence and overflowing grace. The six of us were excited at the prospect of a place to be called home. My husband had visited the district where he would work, after the Ministry of Health offered the choice of five hospitals. Three of these cities climatically were unbearably humid and hot. One of them was outside Java. With a strong inner urge, God lead us to the Wlingi Hospital, East Java, 120 miles from Surabaya and 50 miles from Malang..

Harrold and our daughter, Ruth, had driven to Wlingi, where they had chosen a home with consenting, town officials. We had high hopes of an adequate home for the children to study and play, and enable us to be hospitable to neighbours.

Excitement rose as we passed through towns and villages approaching our village home. Gwenda had prepared a thermos of tea, the inevitable buns, bananas and peanuts for a home-coming celebration. Even as the rain eased, it drenched those walking home along the roadside. Children held banana leaves, umbrella-like, over their heads to fend off the rain, while driving family buffaloes home for the night.

'We're here,' shouted father triumphantly, as he drove into the driveway of the home. We were surprised that the yard was submerged. The children removed their shoes, wading to the front door, excitedly splashing through the pool of water. However, at seven months pregnant, I was dismayed; but allowed my husband to gently carry me through the water to the home. He thought it romantic.

An elderly Chinese gentleman, his back bent, his Chinese gown colourful, and with flowing beard, opened the door. We greeted him, as he silently handed a letter to my husband, whose wrinkled forehead, told me something was amiss. My husband interpreted the Indonesian letter to me. The rental had been triple what the authorities would pay, and be paid in advance. This was not to be our home!

We were a bedraggled group, tired after a 100 mile journey, hungry, wet, with four weary children excited one moment, and hopes dashed the next. Many times we had told our family, 'We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God,'…. My husband turned to me, as if he read my thoughts, saying, 'Don't worry, dear, Romans 8:28 still stands.' The humour of the hour gripped us: as we stood around the table, our feet and clothes soaked, and Mum holding a bag of soggy buns. What a sight! Australian representatives. Servants of the Lord. We were at perfect peace, because our minds rested on the Lord and His promises.

While pondering our plight, an official arrived, profusely apologising, and whisked us to the nearby city to meet the Regent. We gasped as we drove into the palace grounds and saw the mansion reserved for our temporary stay. Trucks, bearing our goods for three years' stay followed us. The Regent's wife graciously greeted us as we stepped out of our car. We expressed our gratitude to the officials, who cared for us over that period, often apologising for our inconvenience; while we were deeply appreciative for their thoughtfulness.

Imagine our delight when we were ushered into the dining room, where a meal of typical Australian foods had been prepared: fried eggs, soup, meat potatoes, peas, carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, jam, bread, butter and Aussie Kraft cheese. The Bupati and his wife, and Mr. Soemargo, the Regency secretary, became our new Javanese friends, showing such kindness to us.

During our stay at the palace, we rented another home reasonably. Having been a storage centre for rice, it was available immediately. Providentially, the residence was conveniently nearer the hospital. We were surrounded with paw-paw and banana trees, with space for soccer and games, a delight to the children.

The officials were bewildered that we had accepted the situation, not complaining at the breakdown of plans. Only a Christian can truly understand that all events, good or bad, are under God's control, knowing He works all for our good.

HOME AT LAST.

Twenty five boxes decked the front room of our village home, together with a crated foot-operated bellows organ. Javanese men painted our home while we were settling in. I selected the wall colours, having visualised green as a light apple shade, but was appalled at the bright, yellow-green paint. I recommended that the walls be painted only to mid-height, leaving the top white. Javanese painters prefer bright colours. Our friends' home was painted during their vacation, using rainbow colours.

While unpacking, the workmen downed their paint brushes to observe us, while others watched through barred, glassless windows as Ruth and I lifted sheets, blankets and bedcovers. While we spread white sheets and colourful bedspreads, onlookers were wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Mattresses, sheets and spreads were new to village people. Their beds were a plaited reed mat or bamboo frame. Many villagers found European possessions irrelevant, so I promptly stowed away many possessions, a possible hindrance to our relationship with our neighbours.

Our impressions and emotions varied, for everything was 'first-time'. For example, they now have a resident doctor for 2/3 million people; an English-speaking family; books available; and hearing of a wonderful Saviour. All for the first time.
Java's tropical climate and draining humidity exhausted us quickly.
WE cherished two beautiful daughters, born in that village home; I home-schooled our four children; our family refreshed missionaries; village children played soccer, volleyball and badminton; we taught the 90 responsive children the glorious, saving gospel of the Lord Jesus; The Lord blessed Wlingi as a surgical base, supplying healing medicines liberally; He added new wards; our God was glorified.