I lay on my top bunk with feet in the air, dancing under my suspended, cheery, intricate and colorful paper snowflakes; the only kind that can make it in this filipino heat. I've spent hours up here, a quiet haven in the midst of the chatter of 11 other girls excited about whatever's for dinner or the pictures they took during this morning's Color Run.

Between scrolling through other's blogs and prancing on the keyboard as I draft my own, I find myself journaling more today than I have yet on this trip. From scripture I intend to memorize, to grocery lists, to books I'd love to get around to, to sermon notes and scholarships I should probably take a second look at, I jot and doodle my way across the bound pages of a journal barely touched. My thoughts are scattered across a million places in my mind, so you can see how composing them into a blog may be difficult. Bare with me.

This first half of the journey has brought me so much joy and growth, revealing so many things I never could have anticipated. Let me tell you a little more about this latest stretch in the Philippines.

Familiar and all I've really known, I once again live with all girls. There are lines for the bathroom, late night cinnamon-sugar toast makings, and sleepy, early morning silences. Nothing I haven't seen before. There are 12 of us, making up a small sorority of a sort and a good sized Bible study as well.

We live on what has to be the steepest hill on earth, fourteen hours ahead of Nebraska time, in a generous "apartment" all to ourselves on the lower level of a beautiful home for 35 sexually abused teenage girls whom we love. These girls are a joy to hang out with, to help as they do their homework, to watch movies with, and to sing and dance along with in the evenings when they return from school and extra curricular activities. They'll dye your hair if you let them, take your phone to check their Facebook, and invite you to every sporting event they participate in. 

We're eager to be with them in the afternoons and evenings, but in the mornings we devote our time and affection to a few other ministries as well. For three days out of the week, we gallop (or just slip and fall) down a steep slope leading into a squatter village near our residence. There, the kids have stolen our hearts, aching for attention and love. We've become friends with old "lolas" there, talking about their grandchildren or touring their bottle gardens and tarp-roofed, plywood-walled homes. Whether we walk around to pray for the people, brush the rotting teeth of 5 year olds, or tote kids on our shoulders, backs and each arm and leg up and down the steep streets, we see the simple impact we're making in the relationships we build there. 

On Wednesdays, we spend our mornings renovating the pool in our backyard. Chipping tiles one by one, with hammers and sweat, we hope to finish the project in time for a pool party with the 35 pool-deserving girls before we leave here at the end of February. On Fridays, we venture out to the salon lined streets of Antipolo, where sex-trafficking is becoming a more prominent issue. I'll go a little more in depth on this in the future, but our ministry there, for the most part, looks like a lot of conversations over Coca-Cola and laughter. There's also a Starbucks which we frequent so often that they know each of us by name.

At least once a week, our squad gathers together for a worship night, singing songs, praising God, swapping stories and building community with one another. Since the 52 of us reside in three different locations, it's a treat to all meet up.

We work hard, and we also play hard. So many fun events fill our weekends. This morning at 4am, several of us dragged ourselves out of bed, laced our shoes and scrambled eggs in the few minutes we had before leaving for the world's largest Color Run. I sweated rainbows as I ran my first 5k. We went to the premier of The Hobbit, fell in love with Catching Fire and even more so with Frozen. Wicked is coming to town, and I'm about to purchase tickets. I've eaten chicken feet in my time here, which aren't as bad as I feared. I've sang karaoke, taken every mode of transportation offered (including hitchhiking) and have high-rived and taken pictures with a ridiculous amount of strangers. There's a waterfall still to visit, a beach to tan on, hot springs to swim in and fortunately two warm months left here to do it all.

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The holiday season just finished, for ya'll back home at least. Here in the Philippines, Christmas music is still playing in the stores, Christmas trees (including our own) are still standing, dressed in their festive decor. Lights dangle from the trees in every plaza and on every neighborhood gate, and "Malagayang Pasko!"'s are exchanged between each passing stranger. Manila's New Year was lit up with more fireworks than America sees in July, and I enjoyed my quiet evening scrolling through Pinterest up until about the time the clock stuck midnight. I was that girl. 

Christmas for me, however, was a little more social. Christmas Eve held for us a "feeding" in the squatter village that we've been investing time in. I felt more like Santa than the man himself as I brought piping hot bowls of rice to achingly hungry children. The evening then brought the 12 of us girls together to carry on the common tradition of watching It's a Wonderful Life. I dreamed of a white Christmas, but didn't get one. It was sunny and in the 90's I'm sure, as usual here. Stockings were loaded with generosity from my teammates, and smiles lined our faces as the deodorant inside made us happier than decadent jewelry would have. This is when you know you're in the Philippines, my friends.

We spent the rest of the day playing Poker, meeting up with the rest of the squad for a pool party, grill out and White Elephant exchange, and celebrating Christ's birth and God's love. 

I finally had a Christmas set apart from the consumerism that's so prevalent today. It was not about the gifts, nor the wrapping, nor the meal, nor the ugliest sweater. It was about Christ, simple as that, just as my everyday, crazy life in the Philippines is.

Oh, I forgot to mention! We have a few rats living with us.