A Moment in a Missionary's Life by Tracy

From the moment we walked in the door, his eight-year old arms wrapped themselves tightly around my neck. Oh, visiting this family is always a joy. Visiting them for the last time was proving to be a much more difficult endeavor. I gave my heart a stern warning to be strong and brave. I'm not sure it helped much, but at least I succeeded in getting the tears in check before they started. At least for now.

I remember the first time I met "Jimmy" nearly three years ago. As his mom warmly but somewhat shyly greeted me, I spied Jimmy peeking out at me from behind the lace curtain separating the sewing shop from the rest of the house. My husband had been visiting Rosie for some time, and her oldest son Cristian had been attending the youth group meetings on Saturdays for a few months. Cristian would spend his Saturday evenings after youth group at our house, and I loved getting to know him. He felt like a friend and part of the family from the first time he came. I wanted to get to know his family that he'd shared so much about.

I know that's my "job" as a missionary. But after nearly two years on the mission field, I needed to get out of my shell and start putting action to my words. Here was an opportunity to put feet and hands to service. And there was something else. I had reached that point where I was past the "warm fuzzies" that come when you're new to the mission field and everything is wonderful; past the anger and homesickness that inevitably follow. I was ready to commit my heart to this place, these people. Simply put, I wanted and needed a friend. Rosie and her little Jimmy, and Cristian and the rest of his family were just what my heart needed. And so I found myself standing in the doorway of their home.

Rosie is a single mom raising five kids. A pretty common story, and even more so here it seems. And stepping into her home, I realized I had just entered the smallest home I've ever visited. The entire front room is her work place, complete with three sewing machines, a clothes rack full of clothes waiting to be mended or sewn, and a table for cutting, measuring, and ironing. Through the curtain I could see the dining/family room, and beyond that a small bathroom and the tiniest kitchen I'd ever seen; three small bedrooms filled the rest of the space.

My eyes were drawn back to Jimmy's, still peeking out at me. For a moment I thought he was going to say something, but he only leaned over to his mom and whispered something. Then he looked up at me and grinned. Oh that grin. Has the world ever seen such a grin on a five-year-old's face? Yep, I knew it right then. My heart just got stolen right out from under my nose.

Jimmy, now eight, is still proud owner of my heart, or at least a large piece of it. And now as I stand in this doorway one last time, I find myself at a loss for words. I fear if I open my mouth to speak, the words will come out choked and my breaking heart will be on display for all to see. So I smile, I nod, ask a question here or there, and just soak in these last moments with this precious little boy and his precious family. Rosie has become my dearest friend here. She's a gift from the Lord, and one I will hold dear from now to eternity.

I don't understand the Lord's choosing this for our family, this needing to leave and move somewhere new and start all over again. But I know that His ways are higher than our ways. I know that His plans are chosen for us out of His incredible love for us. I gave my heart to the Lord at the age of twelve, and I've learned to put my trust in Him regardless of circumstance. So if He is choosing this for me, knowing how much pain it is causing me in this moment, it must be something more wonderful than I can imagine. I rest in that. But still, I hurt.

I don't know what it is about Jimmy that captured my heart. But capture it he did. And leaving is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. But I've learned a valuable lesson from this little boy with those coffee brown eyes and that smile that lights up the room: Give your heart to those you can. Give of yourself, every part. Serve, and love, and help, and care. You'll surely never regret it.

Now I look forward to the years ahead in this new ministry. I can't wait to meet the people the Lord has waiting for me there. I can't wait to serve, and love, and help, and care. And I can't wait until Christmas vacation, when I know Jimmy and his family will come to visit, and I'll feel that joy when he wraps his arms around my neck once again.