Waiting can feel a hundred ways. It can feel as an interval of peace, the perfect thinking space, a slow, sweet death, or merely a waste of time. That last one strikes a chord. I mean, think of all the work to be done in the world and here I am in my parents’ living room watching “P.S. I Love You.” In the scheme of life, who wants to plan waiting time, really? When I was planning my trip back to America I planned zero percent waiting. Instead, I planned a lot of work time. I booked each Sunday for two months plus weekdays to deal with the common thread that knits all missionaries together…fundraising. My problem in the past, I surmised, was my failure to directly address the financial need and a lack of personal experience. So now, I thought, it will be no problem to wrap this up in two months and hit the road for the rest of my term in Australia & New Zealand. Right?
Oh-ho no, my friend. Wrong.
It became clear that I would not have enough funding to be allowed to leave at the end of March, so I changed my flight to the end of April. I saw God bring together appointments for the month. Then the end of April approached and I became a bit more stressed about this whole waiting thing. Just last week, while at OMS HQ near Indianapolis, I changed my flight again. Allowing for a wider interval, I scheduled the red-eye for July 22.
Now I’ve been remembering that God doesn’t waste a single day. Every day is the chance to grow stronger for what’s ahead in Australia, New Zealand, and one day in Ireland. Each day is the chance to eat something I missed while I was in Oz last year, play with my dog, or weed a familiar patch of ground. Each day I have the chance to store up American beauty and tuck it into safe corners for a future far away. As much as I’ve spent my life dreaming of other places, I still grow a little emotional to think of what I will miss here when I leave again.
Seventy eight days. I love my country but I love God more. And I love what He’s commissioned me to do. Now I should move with more firm and measured steps. In seventy eight days my flight will leave Indiana and head toward Australia. And in seventy eight days, by God’s grace, I will be on it. The next seventy eight days will be an adventure of their own kind, a “bated breath” kind of journey. Another common thread that ties missionaries together is the knowledge that raising support is more than money. This kind of journey also needs words and hearts that will join with mine. Many of you have already joined me on the adventure. You’ve made sure I know that I am not alone, and I am so grateful.
But the fun train doesn’t stop here, ohhh no sir-ree!
We’ve got seventy eight days to get on that plane, and it’s not just money that will get us there.
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Seventy eight days.
It’s about to get crazy up in he-ahhh!