Stories move and challenge us. They have the power to shake us to our cores, and they give us the chance to dream; to believe in the impossible; to see and feel life through another’s eyes. I wouldn’t say that I’m a particularly gifted story-teller. However, these past nine months of my life have given me more stories to share than I even know what to do with.
We only have two more months of this crazy adventure left, and most of us have hit a point where we are saying, “I don’t even know how to tell my story.” As thoughts of home race through our minds, we are left with the question of, “What will I be able to say that could ever relay my experiences across the globe to my family and friends?” I am left feeling fuzzy and overwhelmed at the thought of processing a radical year of life so outside of anything I’ve ever done or experienced.
There is an American family living on the floor above us this month, and they have an insider’s view on some of the things we are currently experiencing because as missionaries, they’ve walked our shoes. Our team was invited to partake in a family dinner one evening last week, and I found myself sharing a fabulous meal around a table similar to the one I dine around at home.
“Cross over before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and each one of you take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the children of Israel, that this may be a sign among you when your children ask in time to come, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ Then you shall answer them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord; when it crossed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. And these stones shall be for a memorial to the children of Israel forever.”
This missionary family has their own collection of “stones” (tangible objects) that serve as monuments for pivotal times in their lives. We were given the chance to see into this family’s life as some of these monuments were revealed to us in stories of “What God Did”; stories of how God had performed miracles in each of their lives.
There was a rock to represent one day that the Lord got the mom’s attention as she was driving home from shopping and should have wrecked her car but didn’t. A picture of their son still in the womb reminded them of how God had a plan to bring him into the world, even though none of the doctors believed this baby would make it. Yet he was born and is now a healthy 15-year-old. Another piece of memorabilia reminded the dad of a time when he was taking Bibles into communist country and a police officer discovered his suitcase full of illegal material. Rather than arresting him, she waved it off and he was free to continue on.
After telling some of their stories, they asked us to do the same.
We each took turns telling the joys and sorrows that we’ve experienced on the field. Some of the stories made us laugh until our tummies hurt. Others brought tears to our eyes. Mostly it was just wonderful to sit and remember all of the things that GOD DID. I realized how much I have already forgotten and how much I’ve grown. I also realized that I will never again be the same.
