The Hardest Part

So I've definitely decided what the hardest part of being a missionary is. It's leaving behind people and culture you've learned to love. I've been home for almost two months now. I love being back with my family, it's wonderful. But from now on in my life it's always going to be a trade-off. If I'm here, I can't be there. If I'm there, I can't be here. Obvious, but painful just the same. I miss the smiles, the laughter, even the fighting, with kids who I knew, deep down, just wanted someone to love them. I miss waking to the sun shining on my face and the birds filling the air with their song. I miss playing in the rain, late night chats, and early morning clothes-washing. I miss tortillas and casamiento and pupusas. I miss being together, all in one place, with so many people that I love.

But it's time to move on. But move on to where? Where is my next mission taking me? What plan does God have for me? How can I be a part of the mission? The pastor made it clear to me in a way I hadn't exactly heard before. The mission is to make disciples. That is why we exist. That is why you exist, and why I exist. It's a revolution to change the world! I must find out where I fit into this mission. I want to be a part of it, I don't want to stand in the way. There are so many different parts of the mission, no one is left out. Each has their own unique part to play. Each life is shaped by personal circumstances and character. My life will be forever shaped by the people I met, the things I experienced on the "mission field". That particular mission may be put on hold for me, but the Mission has not changed. Will you join me in being a part of the biggest Revolution that has ever shaken the planet? The cost is high, but the rewards are eternal.