….ugliness, stinky breath, bead head and fuzzy slippers….the whole 9 yards.
This week started off terribly.
I sent my Mom and email on Monday. I just let it all out. ‘Stress’ isn’t even the word to describe what I was/am feeling. She wrote back these words…”Wow, how do I respond to this?”
I wasn’t really expecting her to respond, I just needed her to know. I just needed someone to know. Someone who doesn’t see the daily struggles of this missionary mom.
We right back to supporters frequently. Not always are our updates read. That’s ok. At least we try. But there will be a church that drops our support for lack of communication….cause that’s what happens to missionaries.
Not all of living in a fairly tropical region of Europe is all fun and games. It’s not nearly as glamorous as we might make it look. We don’t share with you necessarily, the difficulties we face on a daily basis. Why? I really don’t know why? Maybe we (missionaries in general) are scared. If we seem like we struggle more than we succeed, the support checks will stop coming. And trust me, that’s not an easy pill to swallow. Churches want missionaries with ‘big numbers’, not missionaries that spend an hour and a half on the phone (like my husband is doing right now) trying to find a pediatrician to carry our son to. Because, unless you’ve lived in our shoes, you wouldn’t understand. – Seems like it’s all about “SUPPORT” with a missionary, huh? Well, you try to be in a foreign country completely relying on others for the livelihood of your family. I know…I know…”Nina, where is your faith?” – Well, my faith is in Whom it should be and I’m praying the same for those that decide whether or not that check will be sent.
Monday I was ready to run ‘home’ crying….and ‘home’ wasn’t the yellow house in the northern Portuguese village…it was Alabama, USA.
Then 2 days later my Dog died. (Just calling him my ‘dog’ seems so inadequate. There should be another, more superior word to call a pet like Major. Cause, ‘dog’ just doesn’t get it.) Two days of non stop crying and worrying over his sick body….sort of made me forget the struggles I was facing a few days earlier. Major represented more to me than just a faithful companion, although that he was. My Mom is a dog lover, so having/getting a dog myself and seeing how much they come to mean to their owners made me feel closer to my doggy-loving Mom. And my Dad, well, I have pictures of my dad holding me as a baby with his black Lab beside him. So the joys I had with Major, I shared with my Dad who also understands how very cool they can be. Major made me feel closer to home.
Weird missionary chick….I know.
But whatever helps, right?
I’m being included, out of respect, in the email circulation of my family trying to organize the when, where and who of the family Thanksgiving dinner. When it will be, where it will be, and who will attend. I can tell you 7 that won’t be attending.
I warned you….seeing me this morning wasn’t going to be pretty.