My favorite TU memory is my J-term Lighthouse trip to remote islands of Southeast Asia. The joy of living with people of God, learning about Islam, sharing smiles with kids, meals with strangers, and homes with people who become family. Yet, the challenge of eating fish & rice 3 times a day (with your hands), sleeping on the floor, going to the bathroom over the ocean (with no toilet paper), and without other luxuries. “Ibu” stands for mom, and “Bapak” for dad. On the 1st island, I was welcomed by a sweet philosophical Bapak who fished all night for our food and slept on the dock to respect all the women sleeping in the house. At meals, he shared his belief that God’s purpose, not coincidence, had caused our paths to cross. On the 2nd island, Ibu was raising her 2 girls by herself, lovingly welcomed us into her humble home, woke at 3am to clean, and made breakfast. On the last island, my Bapak (a faithful Muslim man) shared heartbreaking stories of the hardship of growing up without a father, as well as his desire to lead his family to love God and be strong in their faith. He taught me to grate coconuts, had conversations through the language barrier, and drove around the island to find someone to do henna on my hands (he knew how much I wanted it). As a big soccer fan, he was amazed to have someone from the same country as Cristiano Ronaldo living in his home. Ibu was a sweet seamstress (best in the island) who made the best food in the world and continually made me laugh. She never heard someone laugh as loud as me, and said that my laugh brought her much joy. So she asked me to laugh throughout the day. When I was on the boat to leave, with tears in her eyes, she asked me “can I hear your laugh one more time.” That broke my heart. Even Bapak, who pretended to be a strong man, had tears down his face as he waved goodbye. Living with 3 different host families, in 3 different islands, on 3 different houses, with 3 very different yet beautiful ways of feeling loved.