This week… honestly I’ve been tired and still getting over being sick. I had ideas for a blog, however, I think that a series that I’m going to start doing is from a mom’s perspectives.
SO HERE IS THE FIRST ONE…… WOOOHOOOOOO, GO CHERYL. SEE YA IN TWO WEEKS MY MAMA.
“Mom, I have something I want to talk to you about.”
That conversation began like so many others before it had. Little did I know…that simple statement would upend our family’s world in ways I could scarce foresee. My petite baby girl wanted to go on The World Race. So, I did what any mother would do: I researched, I googled, I prayed, I read packing blogs, and I talked to friends of friends who had been on the Race. One well-meaning friend came to see me with articles in hand written by those who were convinced the Race was a cult. So there you have it. I was supposed to somehow find peace with her desire to go 8,787 miles away to serve with a group I just wasn’t sure about. Little did I know… that simple statement began my own journey, as well as Grace’s.
Through all my inner searching and external questioning, I had a strong sense of peace that this path was exactly what God had planned for my amazing daughter. Thus began my conviction. How could I stand in the way of what God was clearly calling my eighteen-year-old daughter to do? I couldn’t. And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that though 4,000 applied, Grace would be one of the 440 or so chosen. So we did what we do best as a family. We gathered our forces and raised money, wrote letters, made 104 cutting boards, Facebook videos, and all the while praying.
September 9th we launched Grace from Georgia to Swaziland, which had recently been renamed Eswatini. Word had it they would be without electricity for the first couple of weeks… and that stretched to seven weeks. Grace’s team of six sweet girls was responsible for working with two Swazi women to cook for all of Squad U and the orphanage- a total of about 100 people. The same girl who always had homework when I asked for help preparing dinner was cooking three meals a day for 100 people without electricity. I knew in that moment big, big things were in store for the nine months ahead. And that God had a powerfully good sense of humor. Pictures rolled in to the parent page of other squads going to water parks, on hikes, and other wonderful adventures on their days off. Squad U was in a remote area with very little to do, and she was feeling the reality set in of being so far from home. “Are you all going on any excursions,” I asked innocently? Grace proceeds to tell me that they are not leaving the base because it isn’t safe. The national elections bring about a flurry of child sacrifices for people hoping to provide sacrifices for their choice of candidate. And, oh yeah, the mountains that border our village are a hot spot for sex trafficking. My world fell away. For truly the first time, I felt the utter helplessness of not being able to in any way protect my child, other than prayer. Yet, still I knew peace; the peace that passes understanding. She was about a larger plan, and our job was to be her support team. In so doing, I learned the freedom that can come in letting go of the illusion that we have control over our day-to-day.
Let me be clear. I am a quintessential Southern woman who loves her children fiercely. It is not my natural state to not rise up to protect those in my care. See, from the very first week in Swaziland, God was moving in my life, as well. I was learning the beauty and peace of transformative faith. Finally, after three months, the squad moved to Nepal. It was a crowded, unclean place where several of the racers became sick, and sick enough to end up in the hospital. Grace was one of those, along with another of her teammates. Seriously? It seemed there was no end to my opportunities for personal growth. More research… into the medical personnel—where were they trained? What drugs was she being given? I gathered as much information as I could and… waited. Grace healed. And I heaved a sigh of relief. I would have gladly brought her home. But she was unwavering. She talked of how heartsick it made her to see the idol worship in Nepal. Of false gods at every street corner. Her focus remained true. Her blog posts over time began to reveal a girl broken to self and growing into a strong young woman.
Then, India. Sleepless nights. Dreams. More illness. Two more stints at the hospital. Fatigue. But I saw a young woman focused on living her life in answer to the call to help others and be Christlike to all she encountered. I have to be honest—my nights are pretty sleepless, too. It has been six months since I have had one of her amazing hugs, and I miss her. But I would not have had here for the last six months. She is messily, beautifully right in the middle of where she is supposed to be. Along with over 40 other young men and women who are answering the call to be the hands and feet of Jesus in the most difficult of places.
In two weeks… TWO WEEKS… my husband Derek and I will travel to Guatemala to join Grace and the other racers on her squad. We will get to serve with her. We will see her life and walk in her shoes, for just a few days. Neither of us have been on a mission trip before… Just one more way that her experience, her example has led the way for our growth at home. I am humbled by this daughter of mine, and grateful to God who has called her to be more.
