Precious Things

It’s time to write my book.  I feel it, way down deep.  Three days ago I asked my closest friends to send me any of my writing that they might possibly have kept.  Within 24 hours, two of those most precious to my heart had sent me everything they had.  I rejoiced.  Someone.  Not just one someone, but TWO someones, considered me important enough to save.  That spoke to my very soul.  When I was writing, wondering if anyone would read it, and wondering if it should matter whether or not anyone would read it, my friends not only read it but saved it.  I’ll be honest-when I sent out that plea, I was hoping for one or two…maybe a few of my most recent ramblings.  Instead, I got them all…all the way back to 2004, when this journey that we are on began.  Interestingly enough, these two friends were the ones at the airport to see us off on the journey.  They’ve been there from the VERY beginning.  They have listened to me, laughed with me, and found their way into a place in my heart that few occupy.  Several months ago, one of these dearest to me friends let me know that if ever I need her…EVER…all I have to do is cry out and she’ll be on the first plane down here.  No questions asked.  Both of these friends have homes and hearts that I can run to in an instant.

When I received the email that held so much of our journey over the last several years, I sent them emails thanking them for thinking I was important enough to save.  One of these lovely ladies answered me “I am a hoarder of precious things”.  Oh my.

I’m going to write that book now.  I’ve come to realize that this story needs to be told.  As a missionary who can now (?) consider myself a veteran…I want other women to know what life on the mission field really looks like.  I’ve read devotionals written by missionary wives, and most of them have some variation on the theme “We are doing well.  All three of the children have malaria, hubby is traveling for six weeks, I found a tarantula in my cereal bowl, the water is off and we haven’t had electricity for nine days, but I’m just basking in the glory of the Lord…”  Uh Huh.  It’s time for a reality check in the world of missionary wives.  We DO bask in the glory of the Lord.  And we call our husbands names for traveling when we need them to be at home, and we have the number to the airlines on speed dial, for those days when we just can’t take one more thing…and we laugh with each other, hold each other up, and catch each other when we fall.  We are strong women, us missionary wives.  We are precious things.

It’s time to write this book.