The evening of my 46th birthday, I sat at the end of our dock, watching the sun slowly slip below the horizon. The water was calm, the sky painted in soft layers of gold and pink, and in my hand, an Aperol spritz, my drink of choice ever since I became slightly addicted to them in Italy. Italy, one of the twelve or so countries we’ve traveled to in just the less than a year we have been married.
As the sun set, I found myself reflecting on everything that has happened since my last birthday. In one short year, my life has changed in ways I never could have planned or imagined. I got engaged. I got married. I stepped fully into life as a full-time missionary, no longer working for myself but for my Lord and Savior. I became the mother of a talented tattoo artist and the mother of a nursing school graduate, learning always how to parent two wonderfully, vastly different children. I traveled the world, expanding God’s Kingdom, and along the way, my family grew far beyond what I once thought possible. I became a stepmother to two beautiful, intelligent, and incredible children, and a wife to the most amazing man.
Obedience to the Lord sent us on a globe-trotting journey for the Great Commission. We built a bridge in one of the most remote jungles of Panama, something that will quite literally change how people live and move through their world. And now, we’ve begun construction on a second bridge. This year, we expanded our family across continents. We learned what it means to be deeply uncomfortable, and what it means to rest in moments of profound comfort. We said yes when it was costly. We trusted God when the outcome wasn’t clear. And we lived with our eyes fixed on the ultimate day, the day we stand before our Lord and Savior and hear the words we long for most: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
I am embracing this season, this wild, beautiful, constantly-on-the-go season, knowing full well that a time of rest will come one day, a time when travel and adventure settle into memories instead of flight itineraries. But for now, this is life. In the eleven months we’ve been married, we’ve spent no more than forty-five days in our home, yet somehow we’ve expanded the meaning of “home” across the world. We’ve learned to navigate the mission field with humility and humor, figured out how to use restrooms in the sketchiest of places, and discovered that the best meals often come from dirt floors in tiny, one-owner/cook/waiter restaurants. We’ve learned that language barriers crumble when met with love, smiles, hugs, and compassion; that the small trinkets we casually toss aside are treasures to children who hold them like gold; that living a minimalist life isn’t just possible but freeing; and that once you’ve sat in the dirt playing patty-cake with a child, the material things of this world simply lose their grip. This season is stretching us, refining us, and teaching us what really matters, and we’re embracing every imperfect, extraordinary moment of it.
Tonight, as the sun disappeared and the sky grew quiet, gratitude washed over me. This life has been full, stretched, surrendered, and beautiful, and I wouldn’t trade a single step of this journey for anything. It doesn’t pass me by that when we choose daily to pick up our cross, we have no idea what kind of journey the Lord will send us on—that full obedience and unwavering commitment to His Word can lead us into a life we once only dreamed of and could never have imagined for ourselves, all for His glory.
