He Binds Up Our Heart Wounds
I signed up for a workshop on healing the wounds of trauma thinking it would be a helpful tool to share with the widows that we work with, and...
Ruth Potinu is the author of Permission to Mourn: Engaging with Culture, Story and Scripture in a Quest for Healing with Hope. She works alongside her husband and four children in Papua New Guinea where they seek to minister to the vulnerable, especially widows and their children. She loves a good cup of chai, connecting with friends and writing whenever she can carve out the time. You can follow her on Facebook , Instagram or at her blog Simply Contemplating.
I signed up for a workshop on healing the wounds of trauma thinking it would be a helpful tool to share with the widows that we work with, and...
Dear 28-year-old me, Your eyes are wide with wonder as you stare out the airplane window greeted by the sight of tiny islands popping out of...
A Google search of Christmas crafts for kindergarteners left me laughing to myself. I don’t think my Papua New Guinea students would feel very connected to paper snowflakes, cotton...
Ruth touches gently on her experience of a miscarriage. If this topic is triggering for you, there is grace for you to move on and come back another day....
Anne Lamott said, “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” It’s true. So why does keeping a Sabbath rhythm often feel...
It was one of those—this, this is why we are here—moments. A literal life was likely saved, and good came out of a difficult situation because of the ministry...
“Where is your boyfriend,” he asked me—again. It was the same question, anytime we interacted, and he wasn’t the only one who would ask. Every time I would give...
I don’t often feel homesick for my passport country. I blame my parents. They took me on my first international flight when I was just eight months old. Once...
"What about friends?” he asked me. He was right; apart from my husband, I knew no one in Papua New Guinea (PNG). In fact, I’d never...
I was fresh off the plane and only able to understand slivers of conversation in Pidgin English. But, as I sat cross-legged on the blue tarp-covered dirt that provided...
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