Come What May.

It’s a Monday. Mondays are just altogether icky. I swear, I blinked and weekend came rushing to a close without so much as a warning. I guess it’s not Monday’s fault. But I still don’t like it, just the same. So I guess it’s fitting that I relay our most recent life development on a Monday.

This past Wednesday was quite easily the worst day in our young marriage’s lifespan. It has taken me until today, Monday, to have the guts/courage/heart to be able to tell of the conversation that took place that morning. We were informed by our AIM coordinator that we would no longer be a part of the Kenya program with Africa Inland Mission this August. Dallas and I had been praying for clarity, and by golly we got it. A very clear, concise and painful “No.” Our month-long team was to be partnered up with the two year team as a way of mentoring us newbie missionaries. Our mentors, the only couple in the two year program, just found out they were pregnant and are coming home to the states. This left us without mentors and so the Program directors decided that they would rather remove us then us have half an experience. As you can imagine, this came as a blow to our hearts. We had been so ready for this. Initially, we both took it rather well. We thanked our friend for her time and went about our day. But as the reality of what this meant began to sink in, we realized that we were so not okay.

I am a planner. I live by my plans and schedules and routines and can easily be thrown out of whack with one single change. So, naturally, the more I thought about how life-changing this was, the more I began to come apart. Africa was only going to be for one month, but from that one month we were going to come back changed. We would then figure out life in the aftermath of this glorious experience.

I’ve already told my boss I was leaving in August.

He’s done the same.

We gave up our little house to live in a camper so that we would have no ties when we left.

We’ve saved.

We’ve begged people for money.

What more did God possibly want from us?

I played this out in my head as I worked the next 8 hours and was just floored by how mad I felt. Not to mention how emotional I was. It’s a wonder that I was able to see through those swollen eyes of mine.

I alternated between vivid denial, numb resentment and hot anger throughout the day until I saw Dallas when I got off. Then I was just weak. Weak from all the constant emotions and the heartache of knowing that our dream was just gone. Looking back now, I can see that there was a sort of beauty in both of us being so completely undone. It felt like we had just weathered a war together. And in a way, we had. In addition to the news that morning, Dallas had moved our camper from my parents’ house to his in the rain, by himself, almost lost both the camper and his truck in a mudslide, watched the grill fly out of the back of said truck, and gotten the camper stuck in mud. The cherry on top of the sundae of Wednesday was that I got a black eye from a dog. Yes, a dog. So. If there were ever two weary people who collapsed in their tiny camper bed and wished for sleepy oblivion, it was us.

So what now? Well. I can’t exactly answer that yet. We have been scouring our resources for a places to serve, and had several leads in Jamaica, Cambodia and Nepal. It’s a big world out there, and it all needs Jesus. You wouldn’t think finding a place to go and love people would be so hard to find. But it is. And it’s draining us.

The logistics are still shaky. For those of you who have ordered shirts, those will be coming in this week. If you’ve changed your mind about that T-shirt, no worries. You’ll get your 2o bucks back along with our sincere thanks for believing in us. If you still want your shirt and still want us to have your 20 bucks, rest assured that that money will be going towards getting Jesus’ love to others. Somehow and some way.

One of my biggest fears is that our family and friends will lose faith in us. That they will quit praying and giving because they think that we’re flakes or uncommitted. Please believe us, friends. We are neither. We love Jesus and are 100% determined to love others as He did. Can we do that from the States? Absolutely. But there is a certain calling that both Dallas and I share, and that draws us to love the poorest and the lowest of people -those who may not know how sweet Jesus’ love can be. And so, we’re going. We don’t know how or when or where, but we’re going. Please have faith in our hearts. Please believe in who we’ve been called to be.

2 thoughts on “Come What May.

  1. Though I most definitely don’t see eye to eye with his theology, I have often found comfort in a line from Whitman’s “Song of Myself” –
    Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged,
    Missing me one place, search another,
    I stop somewhere waiting for you.

    It is truth that the scouring and scraping – or what Jesus called the asking, seeking and knocking – are just as important and just a valuable as any tangible answer in the Christian life.

    My prayers, as always, are with you both.


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