>> November 23, 2009
continued from yesterday.
With all the packing and farewells behind me, I climbed aboard a plane for the first time in my life, with 4 small children in tow, a newborn on my chest, and my Love by my side.
Twenty-four hours into the trip, our last plane about to land, my Love and I looked into each other’s eyes. “Are you ready?” he asked. With tears of joy I told him I was ready. I had dreamed for so long of all those we would meet, the children we would feed, and the people we would clothe. Together we would tell the world of Christ’s love.
But all my plans and wishes quickly crumbled before my very eyes. Dogs everywhere, crowded, busy streets, terrible traffic with no personal vehicle—all of it was so dangerous for small children. My Love was able to join another missionary and work among the people, but I stayed in the apartment with the children.
The already tiny apartment felt smaller and smaller by the day.
I was once again spiraling into despair. Had I not been called? Had I not surrendered to work among the people? Was I to spend my days inside a small apartment forever? Why did God call me just to leave me sit?
What a silly, stubborn child I was (am).
Somehow knowing what I was going through, a fellow missionary wife stopped by one day. We talked for a while and as she was getting up to leave, she hugged me and said, “Carrie, surrender again. God knows what He is doing and knows what is best for both you and the ministry. Surrender again.”
“Surrender again. And again and again. God’s way and not mine.” Those were the thoughts I meditated on.
Soon I found myself on my knees telling God that if He wanted me to be the best peanut butter cookie baker, then that’s what I wanted to be.
Surrender didn’t change my situation. It didn’t make the apartment larger. It didn’t make the dogs go away.
Surrender gave me peace. Sweet, sweet peace.