Today I was flipping through some of our My Story Matters books, reading what the kids had written after our latest session, when I came across an answer that stopped me.
The question was simple: “I want to thank God for…”
And in a child's handwriting were the words:
“For bringing Auntie Hannah to PC.”
I wept.
I sat there staring at those words and thinking about how easily I can move through my days here without stopping long enough to realize just how extraordinary this life is.
Eleven years ago, I started coming to Project Canaan. Back then, I would get on a plane, fly across the world, spend time with these kids, fall more in love with this place, and eventually have to get back on a plane and go home. For so many years, I wondered what it would be like if I didn't have to leave. What would it be like to actually live here? To be part of the ordinary days and not just the trips? To know these kids not only through visits, but through everyday life?
And now I do.
I get to drive onto Project Canaan in the morning and hear someone yell, “Auntie Hannah!” I get to have kids stop by my office after school, sometimes because they need something and sometimes because they just want to say hello. I get to sit with them when they're hurting, celebrate with them when they're excited, laugh with them, worship with them, teach them, listen to their questions, and watch them grow up.
And if I'm not careful, all of that can start to feel normal.
There are emails to answer. Meetings to attend. Money to raise. Lessons to prepare. Problems to solve. There are days when I'm tired or distracted or thinking about everything that still needs to get done. Somewhere along the way, the life I once prayed for can begin to feel like...life.
Then a child writes, “I want to thank God for bringing Auntie Hannah to PC.”
And suddenly I remember.
I never want the extraordinary privilege of this life to become ordinary to me.
I never want to stop being amazed that I get to know these kids, not from a distance, but in the ordinary moments of their lives. I don't want to become so accustomed to the mountains outside my window that I stop seeing how beautiful they are. I don't want hearing “Auntie Hannah!” across campus to become background noise. I don't want to forget what a privilege it is when a teenager trusts me enough to sit down and tell me what's really going on. I don't want worshipping alongside our kids to become just another Sunday on the calendar.
And I definitely don't want to forget that there was a time when I prayed for so much of what I now get to call everyday life.
Maybe that's what those few handwritten words reminded me of today. Sometimes the things we once prayed desperately for eventually become the things we rush past because we've gotten used to having them.
I don't want to do that.
There is plenty about living and serving overseas that isn't easy. There are days when I miss home deeply. There are moments when the distance feels especially far and when the work feels heavy. This life isn't extraordinary because every day is exciting or beautiful. Most days aren't.
It's extraordinary because God has allowed me to be here for the ordinary ones.
I'm here for the school days and the hard days. The conversations on benches and the unexpected visits to my office. The silly moments and the serious ones. The questions that don't have easy answers. The celebrations, the tears, the growing up, and all the little moments in between.
And today, one of our kids reminded me not to miss it.
I don't know if that child had any idea what those few words would mean to me when they wrote them. But I needed them today.
Because while that child was thanking God for bringing me to Project Canaan, I was sitting there thanking God that He did too.
And I am incredibly thankful for each of you who helped me get here and continues to make it possible for me to stay. You have prayed, encouraged, given, checked in, and walked alongside us as this calling became our everyday life. I hope you know that you're part of these ordinary moments too.
Today I'm simply grateful. Grateful that God brought me here. Grateful that I get to stay. And praying I never stop seeing what a privilege that is.
And maybe today you need the same reminder I did.
What in your life today was once something you prayed for?
Maybe it's the family sitting around your dinner table, the job you get to go to every morning, the house that sometimes feels impossible to keep clean, the friendship you prayed for, the marriage you've worked hard for, or simply the season of life you're in right now. Maybe something that feels incredibly ordinary today was once something you asked God for over and over again.
Take a minute today and notice it. Thank God for it. Maybe even write it down.
I think sometimes we spend so much time asking God for what's next that we forget to look around at what He's already done.
May we never let the extraordinary gifts in our lives become so familiar that we mistake them for ordinary.