Can You Hear Them?

(A poem written by our daughter, Katie Mae)

Listen to their thoughts, can you hear them?

Watch into their dreams, can you understand them?

See into their pain, can you feel them?

Wanting to make a difference takes its toll, but you keep pressing on

keep on going forward, and you keep on looking straight. 

Leaving the ones you love, being left behind, and watching as the rest of the world moves on.

Jumping on the plane, riding, riding, and riding, but you keep on riding and you never stop.

So you take a chance and jump off, and you soar.

Soaring with the moon and the stars, just to land and be with the world.

The world that never stopped moving and never gave you a second thought.

You land with the ones you had to leave behind, hoping it'll be the same, but you've changed.

You've heard their thoughts, watched their dreams, and felt their pain.

What does that mean, "missions work"?

That is the question that was posed to me Monday by our pediatrician's nurse.  We were at the doctor's office getting the kids the last of their needed shots for our trip when she started asking what we would be doing in Uganda.  When I told her it was for a missions trip she asked "So what will you be doing there?  Mostly missions work?" I answered "yes" and then she made me pause, "what does that mean, "missions work"? I hear people say it all of the time but I don't really understand what that is." I must have stammered out something that satisfied her and I have no idea what I said, but her question has stayed with me ever since.  What do I or you or anyone else mean when they say, "missions"?

I think lots of different people have lots of different definitions to what "missions" entails.  

For some it means telling people the plan of salvation.  For some it means living missional.  For some it means being a missionary.  And for others it means reaching out to people of a different faith.  

There's another idea that has plagued me for the two years that we have been working towards Uganda…"you can't just jump on a plane to go do missions overseas and become someone who is missions minded, doing missions begins at home".  For two years I've struggled with wondering if I'm being missional enough at home to warrant going to Uganda to do missions.  I've tried to get involved in various missions organizations and have looked for opportunities to support other missionaries…not so much because I felt led to do so, but because I felt like my going to Uganda wouldn't be justified unless I had some kind of home missions opportunities to put on my imaginary missionary resume.  I was desperately trying to create some good works to validate my call.  

The bad thing is…my body rebels agains good works.  Not that I don't like doing good things, I just don't like the legalistic, earn your way to heaven, kind of thinking that has been the thorn in my side for way too long. The one that God has slowly been chiseling out of me and replacing with grace, grace and more grace.  Anyone who knows me could guess which brother I've always identified with in the prodigal son story.  

I shop at Aldi's Grocery Store about once a week.  It's a super cheap grocery store in our city where you pay a quarter to get a buggy and bag your own groceries with bags you bring from home.  I always say that it's a type of missions field because there are always people from every walk of life, every language and I'm sure, every religion shopping there.  I love it!  I always end up making a connection with someone when I'm there.  One day it was the sweet elderly man who dropped his cane, my son picked it up and the man bought us candied apples we enjoyed all the way home.  Another day it was the woman trying to get her 4 small kids in the car while her buggy rolled away in the parking lot.  We ended up laughing over how hard life is with several kids as I retrieved it for her and helped her get her groceries into her trunk.  It's not handing out tracks or making a gospel presentation, I don't have to force it or plan for it, but it sure feels missional.  

Today it was a young girl at wal-mart that was buying hundred of dollars of stuff, realized she lost her debit card while checking out, found her debit card after several minutes of frantic searching, had her card declined several times, borrowed the cashier's cell phone, and called the bank to get money transferred to cover her purchases.  She never really apologized but you could tell she was embarrassed as she whispered "it's been the worst day".  I told her it was fine, that I was in no hurry and then told her I hoped her day would get better from here as I left.  She gave me a smile and a sincere "thank you" as she collected her things.  It wasn't until I got to the car, 28 days before we leave to go be missionaries, that it hit me…I AM a missionary at home. 

I believe that whenever you follow Jesus' example, whenever you strive to be like Him, you're "doing missions".  Whenever you love on someone the way Christ would have loved on someone, you're "doing mission work".  Whenever you live an open life, willing to share the gospel whenever the opportunity arises (even if it doesn't), you're living a "missional" life.  

My husband and I often tease about how much we don't fit into society's view of what a "missionary" is.  I'm a terrible house keeper.  I love 80s rap music.   I lose my temper with my kids.  I lose my temper with my husband.  I lose my temper with myself.   I love to dance. I don't homeschool (though I haven't ruled it out).  I joined my first bible study a couple months ago.  I'm definitely not crafty (though I REALLY try).  I'm on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & Vine.  I love to buy cute short dresses but also love a cute maxi skirt.  I do wear my hair in a bun, but because I'm a dancer, not because of my conservative style.  I've made a billion mistakes and I'll make a billion more before the end of the week. I'm a mess. I've definitely not attained the level of holiness needed in order to be called to do mission work. 

The more and more I review my imaginary missionary resume, the more and more I see how unqualified I am, how unqualified my family is, for what He is calling us to do.  And He keeps reminding me that it's not OUR qualifications that justify our call, it is Christ in us that justifies our call. And it is our willingness to display Christ in us to those around us that makes us all missionaries, whether we're at Wal-Mart or halfway around the world.  


"And this is his commandment, that we believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another… "       1 John 3:23