We need to look at that elephant in the room—I told you about it last week, the topic I’ve been ignoring.
Wait. Not “ignoring.” It’s been much on my mind and heart, but I’ve been unable to blog about it.
Recent posts, however, helped me stand closer and lean in, and now I’m looking that elephant in the eye.
So here it is:
I didn’t want to move to Africa because I didn’t want to leave my kids. If you’ve read Chapter 2 of Grandma’s Letters from Africa, you know what I wrote:
Wait. Not “ignoring.” It’s been much on my mind and heart, but I’ve been unable to blog about it.
Recent posts, however, helped me stand closer and lean in, and now I’m looking that elephant in the eye.
So here it is:
I didn’t want to move to Africa because I didn’t want to leave my kids. If you’ve read Chapter 2 of Grandma’s Letters from Africa, you know what I wrote:
“Just when our youngest finished
college, both Dave and God hollered ‘Africa!’ Stunned, I asked myself, How can we leave our kids . .
. and live on the other side of the
planet?”
“Everything within me cried out that my children still needed their parents. I recognized they didn’t need us the way they did when they were little, but I believed they needed our behind-the-scenes support to transition out of the world of college and into the world of professionals.” (from the Preface and Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa)
I had taken my mothering role seriously. My commitment throbbed deep in my heart because, I believed then and believe now, God Himself put it there—He had given me that high calling. As a result, I had made numerous choices so I could do the job right. My role as Matt and Karen’s mother was my joy, my delight, my privilege.
And since God had given me those precious children as well as the job of raising them well, it didn’t make sense that He would ask me to move half a world away from them—and the grandchildren that would surely join the family soon.
I continued in Chapter 2:
Silently I cried out, When I became a mother, I did not plan to walk away from my children after only twenty-one years! I always dreamed our children and grandchildren would live nearby and that we’d get together often—but now this! This felt like a tragic surprise ending to the motherhood I always envisioned. . . .
I spoke about this at our Port Angeles church and I wrote about it in the book. Blogging about it, however, feels like ripping sutures off a wound, and that caught me by surprise.
I could skip this topic and move on to others in Chapter 2—if it weren’t for some of you.
You see, the reason I published the memoir (instead of only making copies of my stories for my grandchildren),
and the reason I’m blogging about it,
is this:
God is asking other mid-lifers and empty-nesters—maybe even you—to move into overseas missions work.
And because I know that can be scary . . .
and because I remember that leaving young adult children and grandchildren can wrench hearts . . .
and because I recall how much other people’s stories helped me . . .
I’m doing this for you, readers! I’m doing this for you!
“Everything within me cried out that my children still needed their parents. I recognized they didn’t need us the way they did when they were little, but I believed they needed our behind-the-scenes support to transition out of the world of college and into the world of professionals.” (from the Preface and Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa)
I had taken my mothering role seriously. My commitment throbbed deep in my heart because, I believed then and believe now, God Himself put it there—He had given me that high calling. As a result, I had made numerous choices so I could do the job right. My role as Matt and Karen’s mother was my joy, my delight, my privilege.
And since God had given me those precious children as well as the job of raising them well, it didn’t make sense that He would ask me to move half a world away from them—and the grandchildren that would surely join the family soon.
I continued in Chapter 2:
Silently I cried out, When I became a mother, I did not plan to walk away from my children after only twenty-one years! I always dreamed our children and grandchildren would live nearby and that we’d get together often—but now this! This felt like a tragic surprise ending to the motherhood I always envisioned. . . .
I spoke about this at our Port Angeles church and I wrote about it in the book. Blogging about it, however, feels like ripping sutures off a wound, and that caught me by surprise.
I could skip this topic and move on to others in Chapter 2—if it weren’t for some of you.
You see, the reason I published the memoir (instead of only making copies of my stories for my grandchildren),
and the reason I’m blogging about it,
is this:
God is asking other mid-lifers and empty-nesters—maybe even you—to move into overseas missions work.
And because I know that can be scary . . .
and because I remember that leaving young adult children and grandchildren can wrench hearts . . .
and because I recall how much other people’s stories helped me . . .
I’m doing this for you, readers! I’m doing this for you!
Read this carefully:
Because other people took time to tell their stories,
they changed my heart
and
strengthened my faith
until I could say “yes” to God’s invitation to Africa.
Perhaps God will use my story to help you
write new chapters into your life.
Do come back next week
because we have gems and priceless treasures to mine
m the rocky soil
beneath that elephant’s heavy feet.
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