Messages Without Words

A week or so ago Boys#3 and #4 were at the dinner table when they began a conversation across the table.

"Did you know Mom was going on a mission trip? I did not."

"Nope. No one ever tells me anything."

"I asked Boy#1 and Boy#2 if they knew, and she hadn't told them, either."

Then two sets of eyes turned accusingly my way.

Whoops. I apparently had forgotten to tell my offspring that I was going on a one-week mission trip to Mexico. It had seemed so far away when I first signed up for the experience that I didn't want to get anyone's feathers in a ruffle; life was happening so fast and furiously all around me that who knew if I'd actually end up going? But then the days passed, and the weeks, and the months, and now--well, in 48 hours I'll be well down the road toward our southern neighbor.

If they'd thought about it, though, the Boys would have known this was going to happen someday, even if I hadn't told them in so many words.

For as long as I can remember I've known that if our congregation ever organized a mission trip to a Spanish-speaking country I would go. This trip seemed especially fitted to my skills, which are minimal. I can't do construction, I don't do plumbing or wiring, I don't even climb up on the kitchen island to change the burned-out light bulb, so I'm not exactly the one you want around when there's REAL work to be done.

But this group is going to be working in a orphanage. I can rock babies, and the vestigial remains of my former Spanish fluency are enough to communicate with little ones. I can clean, and paint. I also can blather on the internet, and I plan to do that in real time if we have internet access and post-return if we don't.

I'm not so naive as think I can make a difference in the lives of the people we'll be visiting for a week. I was a Peace Corps volunteer for 3 1/2 years, and certainly I didn't save the world in that amount of time.

I feel called to do this, though, and any of my readers who are as churchified as I am know the truth of this: Simply to be called is an honor. Any change that occurs, especially the change I hope to see in myself, is a bonus.

Meanwhile, if you're a praying type person, would you put my group of seven on your list for the next week? If the Owner of the orphanage is trying to tell me something during this experience, I don't want to miss it. Not even if He doesn't tell me in words.