My mom is the most important person in my life. She has been the one constant since day one, my best friend. My launch date is in three days, you’ve heard my thoughts, my excitement, and some of my preparation. It’s important to me that you hear hers:
“You’re going where? For how long?”
That was my first reaction when Grace told me in April of 2017 that she was applying to the World Race, an 11-month missionary journey covering 11 countries serving the marginalized in third-world communities.
Her answer to me: “I don’t know exactly where I’ll be going, but it will be for 11 months!” I could tell she was smiling on the other side of the phone. There was a lilt in her voice, a pang of undeniable excitement hidden behind her attempt at staying cool, calm, and collected.
In her mind, it was a great adventure with Jesus.
In my mind, I saw my little toe-headed doll baby, my Tootsie-Pop.
My little Grace, the girl who wouldn’t jump out of the side door of a parked van, wanted to travel the world and minister to the hurting and hopeless.
My little Grace, who never wanted to put her feet anywhere except solid ground because she might get hurt, was being fearless.
My little Grace, who made sure I wasn’t going to let her head go under the water when she jumped off the side of the pool, was plunging headlong in missions.
I was a little shocked.
The normal concerns of parents – safety, finances, communication – did not worry me. In fact, I wasn’t really concerned at all. She has been on other trips. I knew that if the Spirit led her to this trip, He would take care of every aspect for her: safety, finances, equipment, etc.
She has hiked into Nepal’s side of the Himalayas, interacting with a people who have never heard of Jesus. She has been to Ireland, the home of her heart, to show a hurt and disillusioned people there is still hope in Christ. She has hazarded Brazil’s slums to reach out to the forgotten women and children who live in, literally, a garbage dump. She ventured to Mexico to bring new hope to the marginalized.
At the end of each trip, I could tell it wasn’t enough. I could tell she wanted more. More time, more exposure, more chances, more movement. Just more!
I wasn’t shocked by the fact that she wanted to leave again or even by the length of time she would be gone. I was shocked by the timing. I wasn’t prepared for her go so soon. This type of trip, in my calculations, wasn’t supposed to happen for a couple more years, after she had finished a few 3 to 6 months trips, met her husband, got married, and hit the mission field together.
God and Grace had other plans. Me easing into it was not an option.
My Tootsie-Pop learned how to throw caution to the wind and jump. My doll baby is relying on the Spirit as she plunges into this life of missions. She’s closing her eyes and following the Voice that has taught her how to do it all.
Grace is going across the entire world. This time she’ll be gone for 11 months.
