I’ve got to be quick, I’ve only got a few minutes while the babies are helping Daddy wash the car. Having a clean car is like having clean shoes here….VERY important.

One day Drew introduced me to The Very Worst Missionary …no seriously, her name is Jamie. Check out her blog. She’s cool, super cool in fact but don’t worry I’m not going to start popping out swear words (don’t wanna embarrass my Mum, plus it’s not my style). Jamie just says it how it is and I find that refreshing, especially when it comes to mission work. It’s not easy, it’s not perfect, it’s freakin’ complicated. So I like her. Her most recent post for example, it really rang a big clanging bell in my spirit. I only read it today, but you’d have thought I read it yesterday because the urge to write on this blog hit me like a ton of bricks and I just said NOW is the time. Read her post.

Anyways, if she is the very worst missionary then I am the worst missionary EVER. The first few days after we arrived in country, not only did I feel numb but I couldn’t bring myself to check Facebook. Lame, that doesn’t make you a bad missionary, Facebook is dumb anyways right? Just another way for us all to brag, spy, an excuse not to pick up the phone or send a text saying ‘let’s meet’. But just as not blogging on here felt significant to me at that isolated moment in time, so did checking Facebook. It was like I couldn’t bare to see people enjoying the January snow. I didn’t want to see happy selfies with the bestie. I was secretly bitter.

How come? This is my calling! I had been on short term mission trips (wait for that post) during my youth and felt the pull. I literally cried warm, salty tears in front of my church at age 21 because the world was cruel and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t answer the call to do my bit. I wasn’t dragged here kicking and screaming. How did I find myself in this awkward tangle of missionary mess. The only answer that makes any sense to me is simple.

I’m me. I’m a sinful creature. Granted I have likes and dislikes. I love clothes, fashion, shopping. I love BIG rings and even bigger earrings. I don’t enjoy cooking or baking…ok maybe a tad. I love eating sweet popcorn at the cinema, I come alive when organizing a party, I like hot showers. I’d choose Coca Cola every time. I’m in the world.

But I love God more.

I’m going to be honest, on that first night when we touched down, with the van loaded to the gills with 13 bags and 2 sleep deprived children…when we pulled off the main road and on to a dirt track with pot holes that turned your brain to junk, my heart sank and I thought, is this really happening?

I’m sinful. But thank God , I also recognize the need to let go daily of those worldly desires that could take me away from here and look to the cross where Jesus paid the ultimate price for me. So I am fully committed. I think about Jesus. He didn’t want to be nailed to a plank of wood, he could have walked away, flown home to a Starbucks and Big Mac waiting in the hands of his MIL….wait….oh sorry. But it’s about commitment. The same commitment you make to love your husband till death us do part. The same commitment you make to your children when you choose to feed them and dress them and wake up 10 times in one night for them. It was for Jesus and is for me, a commitment that doesn’t ultimately require a decision. If you are honest with yourself, did you really decide to love your husband or wife? Did you really decide to love your children? No. But flowing from that love comes your natural commitment to them. I’ve been down with this adventure for 10+ years. From the moment I met Drew and he said, “I’m running away…do you want to come with me?” There was no decision to be made.

So I’m in tune with my friend Jamie…I’m living in the NOW. I baked a banana cake this morning and gave it to our guard’s wife as a welcome back gift because her Aunt recently died out in the village and she had been gone for a while. Pray for her would you? She’s young, well she looks very young. She’s pregnant and having a rough time… but putting it down to Malaria????? Pray for her baby to stay healthy. She doesn’t speak French and she speaks even less English, so I’m finding it tricky to bond with her. But she is sweet and friendly and I care about her. I dream of the day I will meet her in heaven and there won’t be a language barrier….Oh the giggles we will have!