Before we sold our minivan upon moving from Africa, my husband and I totaled up how many times we’d been hit.
The grand total: 16.
Allow me, if you would, to illustrate something from a movie I don’t at all recommend. Maybe you remember Shallow Hal (2001), with Jack Black and Gwyneth Paltrow?
Tacky as it was, the idea of the movie is actually sheer genius.
We’re back with current need-to-know missions thoughts from around the web.
What I Wish Missions Had Told Me
Remember our posts, What do you wish you’d known before you went? Parts I and II? Some great minds over at A Life Overseas have collaborated for Dear Missions, I Wish You Had Told Me…as well as 7 Questions to Ask during Your First 7 Days on the Field.
Our family’s support raising journey chaos adventure fell around the birth of our first child. By the time he was 13 months old, we’d hauled him to 13 states. We’d lift him into his carseat again, and he’d start wailing. Poor kid.
I know that for a lot of us, the path is long and uphill.
My family wrangled our carry-ons into that taupe-colored hum of a 757, bound for six months stateside. (After the lunacy of the week before, preparing to abscond for six entire months, I was just grateful to make it to the plane.)
I felt conflicted.
There was of course the sizeable slab of me that couldn’t wait to throw my arms around my parents, watch my kids grab the hands of with my nieces and nephews again. I was geared up to sit around a table with the people I’ve loved for a lifetime, just like that. Perhaps I would carry a dish of corn on the cob, say, to laugh at my sister’s jokes in crazy-easy normalcy. I hoped to devour a slightly unhealthy amount of blueberries and bing cherries in those months; to close my eyes over the quiet purr of a road devoid of potholes; to throw a few dishes in the dishwasher just because I could.
We know it. You know it. Heading overseas is this tornadic level of activity.
I remember fantasizing about the moment I’d finally click my seatbelt shut on that 757: At least–after finally checking our exactly-51-lb.-bags, shuttling four kids through security with every device we still owned, and waving goodbye to the posse of weeping family–I couldn’t do anything else for nine whole hours. (Um. Except entertain a toddler and keep him from driving the rest of the plane bonkers?)