It’s month 8. How is it already month 8?
I still remember the 19-hour layover in the Delhi airport that began this journey. I remember chatting with my co-leader about our hopes for the squad over an over-priced, Starbucks blueberry muffin that oddly enough tasted spicy (that’s India for you) and then sneaking off to pamper ourselves with a massage before the chaos of the Race truly began.
I remember preaching about God’s presence to a room full of Nepalese village people one Sunday and then, the next Sunday, waking up in church (yes, I fell asleep in church…) to members of my squad praying over a demon possessed woman who had been manifesting five feet from where I was sitting.
I remember the amount of sand that gets trapped when you wear a full on Punjabi to the beach and the ab-tightening laughter that comes along with having a 4 foot tall Indian woman sit you down, strip you and douse you with buckets upon buckets of water to wash it all away.
I remember the weekend in Thailand where my co-leader and I expected two days of rest and instead endured a state of complete brokenness for the men and women in that city who have fallen prey to the darkness of the sex industry. I still think about Nid- the woman who served us insanely sweet iced coffee and always found a way to make me smile when all I wanted to do was cry.
I remember the hours upon hours we spent in Cambodia carrying buckets of sand, mixing concrete and slapping it on a giant wall that divided the children’s shelter from a monkey farm. I can hear the laughter at our horrible mispronunciation of the Khmer language and envision the messages we left written on that wall.
I remember the five days of squad leader training at a children’s home on the top of a mountain in Swaziland. I can still see the double rainbow and the fire-like sunset that filled the sky and reminded us of God’s wonder. I can recall the sweet times of vision casting and prayer for the squad as we huddled together under blankets with giant mugs of tea in our hands. I remember the joy it brought me to share what I’ve learned with the ones who will soon take my place.
I remember the expectations I had for South Africa and how God gave me something entirely different. I remember the barred windows of Johannesburg and the realization that while we may not always be able to control our circumstances, we can control our perspectives.
I remember the authentic relationships I formed in Botswana, the smiles and laughter that were shared during late night conversations, the heart tug that happens whenever God brings a young woman into my life who has also lost her mother and the tears that were shed in departing.
I will remember the taste of hot gogoche (a wonderfully addictive doughnut-like treat), the “Home Alone”-esque scenes that happen every morning as 41 people run around trying to get ready for ministry and the warmth of a genuine smile from a stranger more than I will remember the pain of frozen extremities caused by the bone-chilling winds and snow of Romania.
I will remember each of these things and so much more.
I leave Romania and this G Squad family in less than 30 days. While I am leaving the snow, secondhand clothes and the 40 people I’ve lived life with the past 8 months, I am not leaving behind the memories I’ve collected on this journey. They are not memories designed to be confined to a compartment of the mind. They are memories that are meant to be shared, to be reflected upon, to serve as reminders of where I’ve been and where I am going. They are memories that speak of God’s grace, power, love and sovereignty.
As I take time to sit down and reflect on the last 8 months, my biggest takeaway is that they may not all be good memories, but He is good and He has been in all of it and for that I am forever thankful.
To the people who have supported me, thank you for helping to give me the opportunity to make these memories. Thank you for loving me, believing in me and praying for me. Thank you for your sacrifices. I am still in need of more people like you to help me complete my financial obligation to this mission.
I’d love to have the memory of catching my flight home on March 5th without being in debt to Adventures in Missions. It’d actually be the best birthday (March 1st) present this girl could ask for…
A total of $2,000 is all it takes.
If you are willing to help please click on the “Support Me” link to the left and give directly to my Adventures in Missions account online
or
You can send a check payable to Adventures in Missions making sure that you put my name, “Chrissy Robertson,” in the Memo.
Mail it to: Adventures In Missions
PO Box 742570
Atlanta, GA 30374-2570
