Today, before I even say hello, I'm preparing to say goodbye.
And sometimes, but not 100% of the time, I cry, and I ache, and I doubt.
Missionary kids - when their parents choose to become missionaries before babies are even born yet - are, well, born into it - they don't need to adapt because it's happened already: the decision's been made and the family is becoming a family somewhere the parents aren't used to, somewhere away from "home." But when you're all grown up and your parents feel the Lord calling them somewhere, somewhere far - on the other side of the world - and they begin to choose obedience and selflessness and only-dependence upon God, and tough decisions are made, and things are given away, and support is raised, and the house you grew up in is packed up and sold, and you realize that California is now 100% your home and your hubby whom you've been married to for a year and a half is your family with no strings attached, you are forced into a series of decisions quite similar to those of your parents - the ones who are going, while you're staying.
Do I trust the Lord with my parents in a communist country? Do I trust that He's calling them there? That He will lead them, protect them, guide their steps, and bless them? Am I prepared for the pain of no phone calls - only Skyping - for an entire year (and then 3 more after that)? Long distance keeping in touch across the country from Pennsylvania to California is one thing - and it's definitely prepared us for even-more-long distance (thank God) - but to China, well, the pain is deeper and pulled more tightly. And I can't see, and the same analogy I used two years ago the same night God made it clear He was asking me to move to California is just as necessary and true now: I am blind and I am walking ever closer behind the back of the Lord - He is leading me and all I can see is Him in front of me. Especially with this.

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