The Bigger Story
I’m tired today. It’s the kind of exhaustion that makes the mind numb and the bones ache. We’re on the road, seeing friends and family one last time, and some of the goodbyes we’re saying feel like funerals. It’s too much. Too much. I’m weak, weary, and completely overwhelmed. If it were just me, I might be tempted to just leave all this missions stuff behind. It’s hard, hard, hard, and we haven’t even left the country yet. But it’s not just me, or even just my family. This is bigger. Way bigger. It’s 120 teens in the highlands of Papua New Guinea. It’s missionary families needing pastoral care. It’s men, women, and children waiting for the Word of God in their own languages. It’s precious people saying, “We can’t go ourselves, but we can give.” It’s the...
Read MoreThe Plates
I’ll be packing up my plates soon, wrapping them well and putting them in storage for the next few years. There’s nothing flashy about them. They are earth toned, with leaves on the rim. I think I was nineteen when I bought them for a dollar each at Walmart. But I’m a little teary thinking about setting them deep in a box and not using them again for a while. These plates were my first step towards independence, and now they’re chipped and etched with memories. They held the first meal Mike and I had together as newlyweds in our own home. I can still see my mom on my couch, balancing Thanksgiving turkey and potatoes on one of those plates, laughing a joy blessing over her grandchildren. They have been part of every birthday, every holiday, every quiet meal as...
Read MoreGrowing Smaller
“I realized I probably could have been famous.” My friend Julie sits across from me at a coffee house table. There isn’t a hint of bitterness, pride, or irony in her gentle voice. She’s right. She really could have been. I’ve known this woman for more than ten years, and every time I’ve seen her on stage, I have been mesmerized. Her voice is one of the most beautiful I’ve heard, and her stage presence is as graceful as it is vibrant. She is gorgeous, well-spoken, and about as talented as they come. The total package. Yes, she could have been widely known and celebrated, but she’s not. She doesn’t want to be. Because she has found her true calling – teaching preschool. Julie talks about music, and she smiles. Then she talks about the kids at work, and the smile...
Read MoreWantok
I have a few really close friends, women who know my heart and let me see theirs. These are the kind of friends who are open to the raw truth even when it isn’t pretty, and they are comfortable with tears, silliness, and even silence. My closest girl friend is my sister. A lifetime of shared memories allows us to understand each other without explanation. There’s a term in Tok Pisin, the national language of Papua New Guinea, for this kind of relationship. Wantok. One who speaks my language. These women are part of my “tribe”. We make sense to each other, heart and soul, no matter our backgrounds or nationalities. It’s not that we never have miscommunications; it’s just that there’s a level of intimacy there that is simple and unafraid. Friends like this...
Read MoreThe Lasts
I have a lump in my throat. A big ol’ fat lump. The kind that makes it hard to breathe, makes it hard to say what I need to say. Because what I need to say is the beginnings of goodbye. We still have seven months before our travel weary bodies land on the other side of the Pacific, but now, over the next couple of months, this is the season of lasts. The last graduation parties for students we’ve known since they were little kids. The last cook out with the high school leaders we’ve invested so much in, and who have invested so much in us. The last baccalaureate service, where Mike will speak and I will cry. The last crop of new sixth graders. Only we won’t be here to watch them bloom. It all sits like a beautiful, burning weight on my chest. A few...
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