Becky and I are now in northern Iraq. We're not far from the city of Erbil, capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, much of which is now controlled by ISIS militants. Erbil was attacked by ISIS forces last summer, but was repelled by U.S. airstrikes and Kurdish soldiers. We feel quite safe here—at least 50 miles from ISIS-controlled Mosul (where just a few days ago, ISIS militants publicly executed, by machine gun, 13 teenage boys for watching a soccer match on TV).

Lebanon's Syrian refugees are different, generally speaking, than refugees in places like Africa. Many Syrians fled from very adequate houses and farms. Some had cars, which they drove to the safer places where they now live. Some brought their savings (although many had savings stolen at gunpoint at ISIS checkpoints).

All told during my travels in remote Myanmar, I visited 15 villages where Heaven's Family is serving. In one of those villages, Maul Zawl, we began working about 4 years ago. Among other things, we offered $100 to $200 agricultural loans to every one of the village's 39 families.

One year ago, Heaven's Family provided a grant for two of Khua Hrang's most promising young people, selected by the village elders, to attend 6 months of nurses' training and 4 months of a hospital internship. Pa Ling, age 26, and Zung Pan Men, age 19, can now diagnose and treat common ailments and tropical diseases. And they have just opened a for-profit medical clinic and pharmacy in Khua Hrang courtesy of another start-up grant from Heaven's Family. Today I visited them.

It took us 11 hours of driving mountain roads and jeep trails to get to Khua Hrang, a village in the middle of nowhere where 1,600 people live, most of whom were waiting in a long line in the dark to shake my hand when we arrived. Last year, during my first visit, they had done the same. They are grateful, in light of this year's poor rice harvest, for Heaven's Family's rice bank in their village that makes it possible for them to purchase rice at a significant discount (for more info about rice banks, see my last blog).

Today's adventure required that we travel the day's final 12 miles on motorcycles to reach the remote 300-year-old village of Dongvaa. As far as any resident could recall, I was the first white-skinned visitor. So it was a big deal to them. When our team arrived at the village entrance, about three hundred people, dressed in their finest, were lined up to welcome me and shake my hand. But first, the village headman lead everyone in a prayer of thanksgiving, and a local church choir sang a hymn. Then I shook 300 hands, the children being last of all, who were lined up by their height.

Chin State is all mountains, and its people are mostly slash and burn subsistence farmers. Every year, the able-bodied of each village spend months cutting down acres of forest using nothing more than hatchets. Substantial logs are hatcheted into smaller pieces to be used for cooking and heating. Smaller branches are left behind, and in March, hillsides are burned to clear the land. Then, either corn or rice are planted, but the soil can only sustain one year's corp. So the next year, more forests have to be cut.

Last year's arrival at Tluang Khua was unforgettable. As the first white-skinned person to visit this very remote village, I was greeted with the firing of a shotgun, a garland of flowers, a long reception line, and traditional Chin dancing. I also recall the village tradition of publicly broadcasting through loudspeakers a reading of the entire Bible during December nights, a devotion that allowed me little sleep at the chief's house. This year, thankfully, they took one night off...at my request.