Aging Gratefully

Waiting for the sun to rise while watching from the deck of our beach house. 

Thick, hovering, dark abundant clouds with pale pink and yellow peeking through at the horizon. This on the heels of a moderately stormy night. The breeze picks up along with the click-clack of pool balls in the rec room below. The boys are up. 

I awoke at 3:30 am after a solid stretch of sleep, pondering my key words for the week thus far . . . 

"Release/Receive."

Release to the retreating ocean wave--to You, Father--my youth frolicking in the water, riding the crest with happy giggles. What was once fun is now frightening.

My body is changing. Balance and muscle tone are not what they used to be. That became abundantly clear yesterday while trying to boogie board with my grandsons. More agony than fun. And that's when I knew . . .

That it's time to laugh with the grands as I watch them have their day in the churning froth.

I feel sad, Father, as I process through this letting go. 

And yet, hopeful.

Because challenge, struggle, holds such wonderful opportunity for the grace of change.

I came to the beach with Your many grace gifts on my mind, Father.

I was not anticipating that "giving up something" would be one of them.

Last year this time, the giving up was releasing my two oldest grandchildren to their aging (or better said, coming of age--growing up and moving on).

This year, it's my own aging (on the other end of life) and the incremental release of specific things . . . 

Like riding the waves with husband Chuck and the grands. 

But this I know--as You have given grace in the past, You give grace in the present.

For "I trust in You, O Lord . . .

 You are my God. 

My times are in Your hand . . ." 

Psalm 31:14-15a 

No gorgeous, glowing sun orb this morning, only massive cloud cover.

And yet . . .

The sun still shines. for light awakens the dawn. The ocean wave returns to the shore with grace gifts.

So, I will choose to thank You, Father. I will focus today on what I can do.

I can LOVE.

Through words, actions, writing, painting, pool time, games, food prep, listening, shell hunting, strolling, hugging, music, dancing, sharing, witnessing. 

All for the joy of Jesus, I choose to release what I can no longer do and receive the grace gift of what I can still do. 

I choose to age gratefully.

Every good and perfect gift is from above, 

coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, 

who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17

HOME

Sitting in the Ubon airport at Gate 4, waiting on a flight to Bangkok, then to Phnom Penh, I will be home in approximately 30 hours.

HOME . . . a term of comfort, stability. Yet "home is where the heart is," so the cliche' goes.

And I've just left a huge piece of my heart in Thailand. And earlier in Cambodia. And back in August, in France.

My heart home is torn apart and scattered for Christ's sake all over the world.

Confirming once again that my real HOME is with Jesus. Through His Spirit, He is my Home and I am His Home. Someday I'll live in His physical presence.

For now, 'til I see Him face-to-face, I invite Him to be thoroughly at home in my heart, wherever my feet may go . . . . near or far.

As I grieve, I breathe a prayer . . .

You, oh Lord, are my forever Home! Thank You for never leaving me nor forsaking me. For us, there are no sad goodbyes. We belong to each other. Forever! May all our family be a part of Your eternal family. Encourage my daughters as they pick up with loving their husbands and children, home schooling, ministering to others, and relating to You. Strengthen my sons-in-law. Infuse them with Your power and wisdom. Guard the hearts and minds of the little ones. 

In my mind's eye, I see one grandson along for the ride to the airport. It is a sober time. Even for a four year old.

What will you do when you get home, Grandma? How will you cry? What does the bunk bed look like in the red room? 

I explain my tears, my journaling, my prep for him to come see us, our service for God on our side of the world.

A lot for a four year old to digest.

My son-in-law pulls up to the airport curb. We pile out with our luggage, say our goodbyes as Grandpa sweeps his little grandson into his arms. Swallowing back tears, we lumber through the terminal doors. It is over.

Just like that. It always seems so abrupt, no matter what hugs, words, prayers have come before.

At some point, and I suspect sooner than what my young grandson expected, it was over.

For now.

I leave him at four and pick up again at age six, most likely. Losing those bulks of time while they are growing is one of the hardest things about this missionary journey.

Do You miss Your children in a similar way, Abba? Until we join You, face-to-face? You who wept so freely while on earth? I suspect You do. You weep for us and with us. My longing for You will likely never quite match Your longing for me. 

We board the plane and before we know it we're piling into an airport tram in Bangkok, surrounded by Asians. An overwhelming thought accompanied by a touching feeling grips me: These are the people my daughter loves, and has loved since she was five. 

The thought, the feeling, brings me full circle in my perspective. I let my kids go so that more can know Jesus as their HOME.

And that, after all, is what truly matters. 

People I've Never Met

As a mom of missionaries, "Love the people God's called your children to serve," has been rolling around my brain the last few days.

I often pray for our missionary kids, but sometimes forget to pray for the people they serve. I seem to take it for granted that their calling will automatically enable them, enable me, to love the people.

Not necessarily. Especially when we've not yet met those people, as in the case of our second daughter and family who are preparing to leave to minister among an unreached people group in Africa.

This morning I took down a 2017 wall calendar detailing pictures of their survey trip to Africa. I'd looked at the Shutterfly calendar all year long and lifted up a quick prayer as I jotted weekly items down. Buy today I really looked at the calendar. With their departure looming ahead, I considered using the calendar more intentionally in my prayer time and perhaps with our ladies' prayer group.

Then it hit me. A well of unpleasant emotion I'd never quite experienced up to this point. Anger, grief that these people staring at me in the pictures, these people I'd never met were calling my precious children away. I recoiled at the emotion. Yet I knew I couldn't run from it. I had to deal with it.  That much I'd learned in 41 years of marriage to a professional counselor.

So here I am, dealing with it through writing out my thoughts and feelings as I gaze at the calendar pictures. Of pastors hungry to learn and share God's Word in their remote village settings. Of African women and children browsing crowded outdoor markets. Of my son-in-law sharing biblical principles to a group of pastors in a rustic church with dirt floors. Of my daughter smiling down at two kids hugging her legs.

I realize God is growing me to think, to pray, beyond the needs of my family to the needs of the people they're called to serve. A people He knows. Intimately knows and loves and longs to know and love Him in return. I must not horde the love He so graciously extended to me and my family. So many do not yet know, have not even heard His name once. Unfathomable.

So I come back full circle, knowing I must let my family go, once again, and knowing I desire them to go in God's will, each of us fulfilling Isaiah 6 in our own ways to the people He has called us to serve.

Yes, with all the emotion involved, knowing that even the unpleasant but very real emotions cannot overpower me or us if we keep our focus on our Savior and the people who need Him.

Ultimately, that is all that really matters. Yet I also know in the midst of this eternal task, our Father cares about us. He knows. He weeps with us . . . .

For our pain. For the pain of the people we serve.

Yet a better day is coming. A better country.

Our true Home where He longs for us all to join Him.

So we tell them.

For Love compells us to do so. 

Grandchildren: Those Cute Things They Say!

The end of an era is upon me, and I feel sad. Happy, but sad. Happy for the rich memories accumulated in the last year and a half as Chuck and I have housed missionary family. What a treat, and what a treasure to have children who love and serve the Lord around the world!

But with that comes the painful separation times. But with that also comes the wonderful "Welcome Back" times. 

How much we've packed into this past year . . . 

Grandkid Circus with Grandma

Backyard fun

Picnics

Dress up

Tea parties

Box creations

Beach reunion

Museum trips

Drawing together

Games

Swimming

Camping

Hide & Seek

Pumpkin carving

Home schooling

Christmas decorating

Ministry

Yard sale lemonade stands

Laughter

Tears

Pillow fights

Cousin joy

Travels

And funny sayings from the mouth of the grandkids. Gabe alone has provided me with close to 130 unique quips! Here are a few . . .

Gabriel and Daddy were shopping in Walmart when an old lady came up and started oohing and aahing over Gabe. Then she turned her attention to Matt and struck up a conversation. She said her goodbyes then walked away.

Gabe looked up at Daddy: "Hey, I was still talking to her!

~~

Gabe loves to make up stories. The other day, I asked him: "Now Gabe, is this a true story?" "No," he replied. "It's a lie story.

~~

On the way to church yesterday, Gabe sat in the backseat holding an open testament, going on at a great rate. "For the strength of the power of the Lord, in the banana, of the discipleness of the Lord. Acts 1:8a, and the lion ate his face, and in the love and thankfulness of the Lord. And I will demand you to my father's mother, and ankle bites. The End. Can I take this book inside?" 

~~

While helping me trim the yard, Gabe (3) said, "I'm a strong man, Grandma. And I'm a patient man. And sometimes, I'm a rude man." 

Well, that's just a few of the things Gabe has said over the past year and a half. I sure will miss all his cute antics, but I'm so glad I took the time to write down the stuff that comes out of his mouth.

I suppose some of you are wondering what ever happened to the Wit & Wisdom from the Wee Ones project. It's still in the works! Slow going, but still coming. That book was in the works when Gabe was a mere babe, but I gathered so many cute sayings from my other grandchildren at that time. Who knows, maybe I'll compile a sequel. :)

To date, we have seven grandkids! With two foster grandchildren. 

Life is full, and I'm so blessed to be a grandmommy! Even when it means saying goodbye. I'll always treasure the fun times we've shared and pull out all those cute sayings now and again to encourage my heart and bring a smile and a chuckle. 

Wit & Wisdom from the Wee Ones is a collection of cute quips and quotes inspired by Eileen’s grandchildren. Along with other contributors, Eileen cracks the door to the whimsical, 

yet often wise world of the child.

Lean in close . . . you may just hear God’s heartbeat.

What It's Like to Mother Missionaries

My husband, Chuck, and I never prayed that our children would become missionaries. We simply prayed that they would do whatever God wanted them to do, using their unique gifts, talents, and interests to serve Him. 

With that backdrop to parenting, we provided an atmosphere in our home that fostered a heart for others, whether next door or around the world. When a new neighbor moved in, we played welcome wagon, showing up on their doorstep with cookies and card in hand. We hosted missionary families during our annual mission conference. Our kids played and studied with the missionary kids and formed ties that last to this day. We prayed with others at pro-life rallies. Each of our girls worked as summer counselors in the Christian camping ministry in which I grew up. During the year, we often visited the sick and lonely, gifting them with our music and crafts. We witnessed to people we met, in their homes, on the street, and in our neighborhood.

            
So, in some ways, it came as no surprise when our oldest daughter, Rachel, announced at age fifteen that she sensed God calling her to India as a career missionary. Prior to that, she’d been interested in veterinarian medicine, even oceanography. Looking back over our homeschooling years, I realize now that she’d always been fascinated with the solar system, even more with geography. She loved taking a globe or map and pointing out as many different countries as she could. She’d read stories of Amy Carmichael, missionary to India. Her innate interest in the world’s countries, her love for the Lord, and her exposure to missions through our church and her youth group paved the way for God to speak to her heart.

             
Thus, in November 2004, after ten years of preparation, Rachel set off for India as a single missionary gal. Only two months later, God provided her life partner, and they were married in June 2005. Their love story inspired my first novel, Journey to Judah. Writing articles about releasing a child into fulltime missions and later writing a novel helped this mom process the experience. Many ask me, “How can you let your daughter go clear around the world?” I simply respond, by the grace of God, “Well, you know, she’s not mine to hold back. I gave her to the Lord at conception. And I continue to give her over to Him every day. She belongs to Him. God merely used me to train her to serve Him.”

             
That’s not to say my emotions never threaten to get in the way. They do. My grown children go (for long periods of time) and then they come home (for months at a time). The transitions are heart rending. But the more experience I get as a mother to missionaries, the more I realize that each season is simply that, a season that comes and goes with another season on its heels. When the kids come home, I focus on them. Our home becomes a missionary house. In fact, that’s exactly what it is right now as we house 15 people, seven of them kids! All of them are coming and going as they travel to churches to update them on their ministries. My job as missionary host is to listen, especially to the hearts of the grandchildren who are processing life in a different country, bake, cook, wash, play, and pray. In short, make good memories that will carry us through to the next furlough.

With each tear of separation comes the joy of knowing my daughter is doing exactly what I raised her to do: Serve God and others.

            
On the heels of Rachel’s commitment, my second daughter, Michelle, trained to serve the Lord, and met and married a youth minister. Today, they serve fulltime in inner city missions. In addition, my youngest daughter, Stephanie, and her family are preparing to go to Thailand as fulltime missionaries, working with at-risk children vulnerable to sex traffickers.

             
Every day, some days more than others, I have to intentionally release each one of my children, and now seven grandchildren, to fulfill the purpose God has for them. I have to remind myself that we’re not really home yet. There’s lots of work to do for the kingdom. We each play a role: Me in my writing, speaking, and mentoring young moms, and they in their mission work around the world. Someday, we’ll join forever in heaven, celebrating all He has accomplished through our ministries. For now, we work while we wait. And choose joy in the process.

~~

Looking for a summer read? Check out the Born for India trilogy (Journey to Judah, Restored Hearts, Chosen Ones) on my Amazon author page.

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003O405FO