I Know a Girl...

I know a girl.  I'll call her Girl #1.  Actually, she's a woman, and has recently become a parent for the first time, as the sibling pair she and her husband are adopting, have moved permanently into her home.  A family has been praying for them for many years, for this journey to parenthood.  Many nights of sharing, council, tears, and prayers as they worked through God's sovereign plan for their lives, came and went.  They "adopted" that family's kids into their family, taking them on outings, and loving them as if they were their own.  They started sharing sacred family holidays together, such as Christmas and birthdays, as the couple HAD become a part of that family.  They would talk often about when God would grant them kids, how they wanted these experienced parents to be an integral part of coming alongside them, teaching them patiently how to parent, and praying with them through that process.

I know another girl.  I'll call her girl #2.  Actually, she too is a woman, and has now lived in a different country than girl #1, for 8 months.  Girl #1 became a parent back in January, long after girl #2 had left.  And even though girl #2's excitement for and with them is as strong as ever, the realization that she won't be a part of girl #1's daily life with kids, has really struck girl #2.  Struck her with envy.

Girl #2 wanted to be the one to be asked for advice.  She wanted to be the one that was called over to help out.  She wanted the thanks on facebook so people would see how amazing her sage advice was.  She, she, she.  Consumed with self, she became envious.  Instead of being grateful that others were offering their help, and others were encouraging this new mom through facebook, all she saw was that she was not a part of that picture.  Instead of seeing the Body of Christ come together and alongside them, and being in awe of it, she resented it.

In case you haven't guessed, girl #2 is me, and what I just described is my story.  I was recently faced with the deep resentment and envy that I had allowed to grow in my heart.  

The reality of being a missionary is that you miss out on A LOT of things that happen back home. We may not like it, but that's the reality.  That's now OUR reality.  We can be jealous and envious of the fact that we're not there to celebrate, cry with, encourage, laugh with, and live life with people at home, OR we can choose to let those things go,and be grateful that others in the body of Christ have stepped in to fill the holes that you perhaps left.

And maybe we ARE there for them.  Our family is most definitely praying for them.  Maybe we were a small part of the foundation they are now laying as parents.  Maybe they saw the way Bill and I parented, and through God's grace, saw it done well, depending always on God's grace.  

That is after all our greatest desire for them, that they would remember to parent with God's grace, and not their own efforts.