The Miserable Business of Dehydrating

Dehydrating food is pretty high up there in lists of miserable business of a missionary life.
It takes FOREVER to prep food and FOREVER to dehydrate food and then when you eat it…
It's dehydrated food, guys. There's a reason you don't find this stuff in 5 star restaurants! …or any restaurant really.
When we get home on furlough, we will be raising money for a house and one component of that is a fridge/freezer + solar power to sustain it. That component alone is 10G! But if an hour of my time is worth $10, it's well worth it. (Someone recently told me I should value my time at $50/hr, but… idk. Stay humble, right?!)

UNTIL THEN, we have two years of dehydrating ahead of us.
With as much time as we will spend doing it, I decided to write a blog post to share this facet of our lives.

So I get a menu together. What are we going to eat in the bush?
We're grazers, so I plan a meal a day with a bit of surplus just for those hungry days.
Otherwise it’s a variety of ramen noodles, various kinds of crackers +/- peanut butter.
Oatmeal, granola, bush biscuits (kinda like a soft graham cracker) with peanut butter, or pancakes for breakfast.
Nothing to dehydrate there and so it's easy enough. (Though I do need to whip up a 2 gallon bucket of granola!)

I have a master list of ingredients in a spreadsheet, so I know just how many packets of coconut milk powder and boxes of heavy whipping cream and so on I need.
But the real beast isn't shopping for two months, but dehydrating for two months.

So I make a list of my recipes, and I divide out all the items that need to be dehydrated for said recipe. So we have 8 servings of most meals and 4 of the black bean soup, two for the spicy sweet potato soup, and 6 for the "lettuce wraps". The squares reflect the number of times the meal will be served and so each square counts for a meal's-worth of that ingredient. Which is a guesstimation. Like my life.

So prepping for beef is probably the most painless things. You brown it and it's ready to go!
Onions too are easy enough. Dice and dry.

But nearly everything else involves blanching. Ugh. The process of dropping veggies in boiling water for three minutes then in ice water for three minutes and THEN dehydrating. Try yesterday's task of slicing 30 carrots, and then, in small batches. Blanching them ALL! This isn't a three minute process anymore!! AND HOW DO YOU KEEP ICE WATER ICY WHEN YOU KEEP DROPPING BOILING HOT CARROTS IN IT?!?!?!
Guys, I've seen breadboxes bigger than our freezer. Even if we packed that thing with ice beforehand (oh look another painstakingly slow task!), we would not succeed in keeping the ice water icy.
But blanching's not the worst. Oh no.

Chicken.
Chicken is the worst.
IT doesn't WANT to rehydrate. Now if you get canned chicken, it will rehydrate to a palatable level but they don't sell canned chicken here! So we have to "can" it ourselves.
…
Does this sound miserable yet?
Ok, get a potato.
"What?!?!"
Yes. A potato. Put that in a pressure cooker with chicken broth for three minutes. (But it's not ACTUALLY three minutes, because you have to wait like 10 minutes for the pressure to get high enough and then FORVER for the pressure to drop afterwards. And that's still not enough time for the next step:)
Get out the chicken. As you can see above, I have two recipes that call for chicken. So I need 16 meal servings which is like 32 breasts. You don't want to do that all at one time! That would be miserable! So we'll be moderately miserable on 4 different occasions which … is … less miserable? over all?
So get out that chicken! And slice it all nice and thin. And then take a meat tenderizer and beat every little sliver to smithereens.
You will be splattered in raw chicken.
The kitchen will be splattered in raw chicken.
Your life will be splattered in raw chicken.
The tenderizer will be embedded in chicken and will be nearly impossible to clean.
If the baby starts crying, that's just too bad for her because you're coated in a layer of salmonella waiting to happen. You will need a shower. And be unclean until evening.
Ok, if the pressure cooker is unpressurized, you can mash the potato and drop the chicken in your weird potato soup concoction to start cooking. 10 minutes (But it's not ACTUALLY ten minutes, right?) Also, pressure cookers have been known to explode. So whisk your babies off to the nursery so they don't get bonked on the head with hot shrapnel. But don't touch them, because.. salmonella.
When the pressure finally releases after ALL THAT, you get to shred the chicken. Because shredded chicken has more surface area and will rehydrate better.
I think it's like a hour a breast so this is a great time to start binge watching some TV. Luckily, this all goes down in town where we have access to the electricity to run a TV and … the dehydrator…

Which takes FOREVER!
Like forever, forever.
It's been a learning experience.
We've had meat get … ahem… go bad. Very very very bad.
Veggies get moldy before they got dry.
EVERY TIME we dehydrate something, one of the trays breaks and we have to super glue it back together. We've gone through a lot of super glue…

So after it dries I put it in a ziplock with a silica gel packet and put that ziplock in another ziplock and I put THAT ziplock in an airtight container.
The PBT office has huge chest freezers with portions available for their village teams who, with and without freezers, need things frozen (we're going to put freezer meals for our return to town in it before we leave!) But I finally drop the dried food in the freezer because it "stops the clock" on its shelf life. And I don't want things going bad in the bush… And once it's there! It's finally, finally, done.

So the object of the game is to get all my squares filled across the page. First prepped, then dehydrating, then dehydrated (but in my air tight box), and finally in the freezer. Afterwards, I can weigh it all and add it to our helicopter cargo list.
(Can you live for 2 months on 800 lbs of cargo or less? Including your family and dog? Stay posted for how we plan to pull it off!)

It's been crazy. It's an experience that I can already laugh at, but I am so so so excited to have a fridge in like, you know, three years…

Coffee with Elizabeth - Packing and Desserts

"So, we meet again," I say stroking an imaginary cat. It is, of course, not a real cat, because even in our imaginations, cats are not allowed in Starbucks. That would be ridiculous.

You laugh, because, of course, stroking an imaginary cat inside a Starbucks and not a dark evil lair is also ridiculous.

"My mom ran a bakery out of her home for a while," I say dipping biscotti in my coffee. "She made these. If I stacked them very precisely in the display jars, I got to eat the heels! Later I found out it wasn't biscotti, but mandel bread that she made. I'm not sure if there's a difference, but I felt betrayed nonetheless."

A woman walks in with a rolling suitcase. It has a luggage tag displaying a platform number: 9 3/4. I'm covetous.

"I travel a lot," I contemplate aloud. "As I'm sure you know!" I bring my attention back to you and away from the Harry Potter paraphernalia that I long to call my own.

"It seems like I'm always packing. Like the name of the game is 'how strategically can I do this so my life will be less difficult later?' Currently, the aim is to pack everything I need for two months of bush living in less than 400kg and packed so it all spatially fits inside a helicopter. How much spatially can a helicopter hold? I'm not sure… But that just adds to the fun!" I cringe even as I try to make light.

"Two months is a long time. Too long to sleep on an air mattress that screams every time you move. Hopefully, we can fit a mattress in our spatial limits…

"Thanksgiving will happen. I already have two cans of pumpkin puree packed for pumpkin pie!"
I whip out my bullet journal to jot a note to pack pumpkin pie spice.

"There's so much in my head. Gotta have paper handy to catch it all," I say stowing my journal again.

"Jacob wants peanut butter cookies for Halloween. I tried to put all the ingredients in a jar, but it turns out a cup of sugar and a cup of brown sugar and two and a half cups of flour, etc won't fit into a pint sized jar. Jacob said I could divide the recipe. He doesn't seem to understand that means less cookies…

"I don't think we'll be able to crave a pumpkin. They have pumpkins (more like miscellaneous gourds…) but to explain the practice... 'Well, it was to scare away demons… But not anymore! Now it's just fun! This has nothing to do with demons! Anymore… Yes, well, if you have pagan traditions you shouldn't do that, but we can… redeem them… by making them… frivolous? Frivolously wasting food by letting it rot for the sake of …not scaring off demons…' Yes, best to avoid pagan practices…

"But that's only the first step! The second step is to make sure the return is smooth! What do I need when I get back to town? This go round we'll be coming home just in time for Christmas, which means not only should town clothes and toiletries be at the ready but also Christmas décor and peppermint extract.

"You see, it's hardly Christmas without a peppermint cake! And with so many Christmas staples missing here in PNG, it's important to emphasize what we can. My mother always made a three layer peppermint cake for Christmas. She would crush peppermint to dust the peppermint icing with the lovely fragments and stand up three peppermint rounds in the center, all nearly touching in the middle. 'Three' she'd say placing them carefully, 'is aesthetically pleasing. Not two. Not four. Three.' So I make it the same way. I made two last year for the Christmas Eve Branch Party. One melted and the other didn't. I'm not sure why…

"But that's only the second step! The third step is preparing to go the bush AGAIN! I mean, I come home for 6ish weeks. (That's the tentative plan at least.) And we decorate for Christmas, have Christmas and New Years and all the festivities thereunto.

(The New Year's Tradition is orange icing cinnamon rolls for breakfast. My grandmother used to have them whenever we came to visit and they were so yummy, so they were substituted for my mother's tradition of a huge breakfast banquet, since our little family can't be expected to put away a banquet! Not yet at least...)

And then a whole week is devoted to the Branch's Annual General Meeting! Basic living is time consuming enough! I need cargo to be ready! 

"So where is our shower toiletry hanger? And do we need it to come out on our next trip or not? Extra pots? Extra pans? Where did that clock get to? And so on and so forth. With many things already stowed, I don't know how well of a job we'll do on this third step. But I've found the packing process to be less than perfect.

"Practice makes perfect, but to err is human.

"I don't mind coffee on my almonds, but I hate almonds in my coffee," I lament looking wistfully at the telltale rings from where a chunk of biscotti fell in my cup. 

DECISION TIME!

We just met with the Directors.
And the verdict is in.
The decision has been made.
We have made a choice and the directors affirm it.
So we can now head out to the bush.
Well… not now. But in like six weeks….

Oooohh I can't contain it anymore!
We're going to work with the Mum! (rhymes with "room", not the British version of "mom")
So the Mum was the first language group on the table. We went out there in February. We were really struck by the turn out of people from far and wide to come see us and get work done. And despite the fact that the second day's labor was 12 hrs, they were up at 6 am the next morning to put in another 6 hours before the helicopter came. We really enjoyed working with these people,  but what I think really sold it for them was the amount of time that had gone between our two trips.
We went to the Mum in February and the other group in August.
Between those times, when we thought about allocating, it was to the only place we had seen, the Mum. Some people who we had worked with came into the office frequently. We built relationships. Jacob took the head translator and his wife to the hospital so they could check her out for pneumonia, and took him to the chemist to pick up medicine for her.
While the timing undoubtedly made our decision easy, the timing cannot be discounted as a valid reason for the timing is of the Lord. That February trip was at risk for cancellation multiple times, but the Lord put it together and put the second trip well after.
Now, it is … tradition of sorts, that the work spent doing in the first term is not the work spent doing in the rest of the ministry. That is to say, teams habitually spend their first year doing one thing only to decide that's not what they want to do long-term. So it is possible, that the Mum is not where we will be investing the next 10 years of our life. (A friend told me I couldn't finish a bible translation by the time I'm 37 and I don't back down from a challenge!) However, it will be where we invest the next two months of our lives. If those two months go well, the next two years, and if those two years, perhaps the next 10.

Logistics:
So we're headed out mid-October to spend two months in the village and return mid-December. This trip could be great and we decide to spend the rest of our term here or it could go not so well and we decide that the Mum isn't the right fit for us.
We're planning to get a language helper in town to get a little bit of Mum "Hello"

• "How are you?"
• "What is that?"
• "What is he doing?"
• "What are you doing?"
• "Where is the bathroom?"

under our belt before we head out.
Most people know Tok Pisin, of course. But the more Tok Pisin we use the less Tok Ples (Mum) we'll learn.
(It turns out it's difficult to help translate something when you don't know the language you're translating into.)
And then it's just finishing packing and weighing our cargo.

What can you do:
Pray -
For the receptiveness and enduring fervor of the Mum to see this work done.
For our ability to build relationship and language skills.
For our kids to be protected from malaria and other illnesses.
And for us to manage all the aspects of life (marriage, kids, ministry, dishes, diapers) with grace and finesse.

Give -
Helicopter trips are expensive, the initials purchases for putting a household together in the bush are noteworthy. You can give as a special gift or commit to a monthly gift on our giving page. More money means more ministry.

Send -
There are a few things you could send in care packages that would make life a bit more pleasant.

Skittles - We found in village living that having a sweet thing before bed made life better. We didn't always resort to skittles. Sometimes we made sopapillas! Mmm… But on long days, it was lovely to crawl into out mosquito net and pour a pile of skittles (their hard shell keeps them from melting) while chatting about the day and judging each other for our skittles eating habits. (Jacob is a solitare guy, while I like to blend the flavors!) We found two big bags could get us through a month.

Gatorade powder - Not only can water become blasé, but gatorade has a great rehydration formula. Green coconuts are the best but while they do grow on trees, I don't own said trees.

Starbucks Latte Via - Some days need something special and what could be more special than a latte? Jacob loves a mocha and I love Pumpkin Spice, White Mocha, and Peppermint Mocha.

Care Packages can be sent to:

Pioneer Bible Translators
c/o Jacob and Elizabeth Smith
PO Box 997

Madang 511

Papua New Guinea

Thank you so much for your partnership with us and your support during our ministry and these very life altering happenings. 

Thank you

Coffee Time with Elizabeth

This is the part of our show where we sit back and shoot the breeze as if we were sitting together at Starbucks drinking triple grande lattes which I very much wish I was doing instead of sitting here thinking about spiders. 


"It's said," I say sighing away a scalding hot sip of coffee, "that people are either afraid of spiders or snakes. They say it’s a fear of either too many legs or not enough. But not me. I'm afraid of things that move too fast. A spider is fine as long as he's sitting still. But if that cat can book it fast enough to end up on my personal flesh before I know it. Nogat! …and by "cat", of course I mean spider. But in a beatnik sort of way…

"When we went out to Samban, the missionary we were staying with was in a bush house FULL of spiders. Bigger than my hand spiders. She didn't mind. She wasn't afraid of spiders and spiders ate mosquitos so they had a nice symbiotic relationship. They might have even shared a cup of coffee once or twice, much like we're doing now! …though probably a little different since the spiders probably didn't get their own cup and only sipped out of hers after it was long ago set down.

"But my team mates didn't care for the circumstance. Nogat. I? I didn't mind so much. I was just careful not to lean up against them and they didn't really move at all. What really bothered me in Samban was all the little flying things that ended up on my personal flesh. 'IT'S MINE, YOU MONSTERS!' The mosquito net was my safe haven and I vowed to have a king size bed in the bush and I stand by that to this day.

"But there are these little spiders in my house that scurry. And jump. Nope, nogat, no, I am done. Jacob, kill it.

"I have a rule with spiders. It's the punctuation rule. If they're smaller than a punctuation mark, I can kill it. Otherwise, Jacob needs to take it to the cleaners. And by that, of course, I mean… Well, I don't really know where that phrase comes from… Perhaps the mafia and bloodstains in clothing? But you know what I mean… Killing spiders bigger than punctuation can get messy…

"But things that move too fast… Cockroaches are a fearsome example of this. And again, when they're still, I'm ok. Like one time in Angunna. There was a little itty bitty cockroach on a cup (trying to share coffee with me like we have that sort of relationship! How about no!) So I calmly tell Jacob that he needs to kill it. He reaches out to kill it… AND IT JUMPS ONTO HIS HAND AND STARTS RUNNING AROUND HIS HAND LIKE HES ABOUT TO CONJURE A TORNADO OF COCKROACHES! I, of course, freak out. The missionary we're staying with raises her eyebrows at me. The shame. But no. Too fast.

"Another time in the same village, I was opening a long forgotten box when something leaps out of it like the devil is chasing him. I, of course, cry out, before I realize it was just a cute little mouse. Mice, I think, move in a reasonable speed appropriate to their species. All the national children laughed at me because I was afraid of a mouse. So I explained. Sort of… See, I wanted to say "I wasn't afraid of the mouse, I was just startled." But my Tok Pisin wasn't developed enough for such subtle nuances. Instead I said, "I'm not afraid of a mouse. I'm just afraid, that's all." Smooooooth…

"OH! I almost forgot! So one time, we were in our village living portion of POC in Wasabamal. We had a little outhouse down the hill from our house with a thatched roof that seemed to one spider to be a pleasant abode. This spider was 3 to 4 inches in diameter, so leg tip to leg tip. …do spiders have feet? Foot to foot? To foot to foot to foot to foot to foot to foot? If you write foot down eight times, especially with "to"s in between, it starts to look funny. Not that I would know that since, of course, we're talking over coffee and there is neither writing nor reading taking place here.

"Anyway, I wanted this spider dead. But Jacob decided that this spider was too big to kill with his hand. I'm not sure what his rule is… So he took a machete out to the outhouse.
"AND MISSED!

"THREE TIMES, my friend, THREE TIMES, I alerted him to the presence of this herculean spider and he went to vanquish it and it eluded him. So I told my friend in the village this story and she is just cracking up! Mostly because, in her eyes, it's just a tiny spider and Jacob has deemed it necessary to go after it with a bush knife.

"Peppermint is supposed to deter spiders, but I'm not really sure how to aerate my house with peppermint. And I'm also afraid of locking them in with me. Like if I put down a perimeter of peppermint, what if the spiders already in can't get out so they just lay their little baby spiders in my house and then I have a personal torture chamber of my own devise. Nogat!

"And ants, we have a problem with ants. They're everywhere and every kind. We have ants that like water, and ants that like children's Tylenol, and ants that like sweet things, and ants that like salty things, and biting ants that occasionally infiltrate our house with no apparent objective. When I was young my mother sprinkled powdered cinnamon on the threshold to keep the ants out. I know, it sounds like some crazy old wives tale but apparently they take issue with walking through powder and, whenever we found the in the house again, we'd glance at the threshold and, sure enough, by the wind or an errant shoe, the line of powder would have been broken. I always thought it was weird we had a huge container of cinnamon. The thing hardly fit on the shelf! Who uses this much cinnamon?! We did. Our defense against the ants. But that wouldn't work here… The ants don't walk on the ground, they walk on the walls.

"Didn't the ants walk on the walls back home? Why didn't they just walk around the cinnamon?"

In the Village and Rained Back Out Again

OK! So I wrote a nice long blog post detailing our trip and then I got bored and deleted the whole thing.
If I got bored, you probably would too, so we'll skip the dets.

We went out to the second language group on the table on Monday.
The road is was but a walking path (think game trail more than sidewalk) by the time we got to the village but we made it.
Most of the trip was sitting chatting at one location or another but we did do two … three things of note.

1. We "did an orthography check".
   So we were SUPPOSED to sit down with literate people and give them a book with one spelling system and see if they stumbled. Then give them another spelling system and see if they did better. Jot that data down and go off to another literate person. Instead, one guy read the book the whole gathering and then asked how it should be spelled. At the beginning there was a difference in opinion, but at the end, all seemed to agree that the change already decided by the translation team should remain. Which only proved that the translation team is very convincing. But as long as everyone was happy so were we. It doesn't really matter how crazy the spelling is, if you're taught it, you'll learn it. Just take English as an example!
   After that was decided, the rest of the meeting became story time as people took turns reading the remaining books we had brought for the purpose of the check.
   
2. We recorded Scripture.
   (Correctly) thinking the orthography check wouldn't consume our time, I brought out the equipment necessary to do audio recording of the book of Acts, which is the next step in their translation work. (PBT learned, the hard way, that people unaccustomed to writing have trouble editing in written form. So after even the consultant check, we're doing audio recordings to make sure everything sounds natural and sweet.) The Director of Language Affairs asked us to look into what it would look like to do recording in the village rather than paying for teams to come into town. While we put things on paper for him, we still bush tested anything. So we were able to record three chapters, learning a great deal of time and money saving information.
   
3. We listened.
   A great tradition in these sorts of things is everyone gathering for speeches. One person says something and the other person acknowledges and thanks or you're welcomes and speeches back. And a reply is given until all the words run out. This people group used to have an advisor but he had to leave for health reasons and they've felt neglected by PBT. So we responded, acknowledging their words, promising to pass them on, explaining the chaos of the past few years, giving them insight to the workings of PBT, reaffirming their feelings, and so on. 

So now we need to decide if we're going to be the people to answer their plea for an adviser or if we'll be answering the plea of the first language group on the table. We think we have an idea of what we'll do but we want to spend a week in prayer and give the Lord a chance to move us otherwise should He so choose.

We were to stay until Friday, but on Wednesday the rain came in a month renowned for its lack thereof. The first village got a sprinkling, enough to make us worry about skidding up and down the road back, but the second village we were supposed to transition to that day had torrential rain. A fool would make the venture but I am no fool.
For fear the torrential rain would head over to the village where we were and worsen the road even more, resulting in us being stuck there, we headed back into Madang.

We were ok with the shortened trip though, but that's a different blog post.

Splashing Lava

I am a planner.
I am all about some plans.
And plans give organization.
I like organization.
Oh, sure, I can manage chaos with the best of them and my rapid fire planning makes me great in emergencies. I recall the day my car caught fire and when it was time to start planning, I put my emotional breakdown on hold to formulate a plan.

We're about to leave to go to ... somewhere.... hopefully.... October-ish.
And to that end I've already started lists and packing and weighing of cargo.
(With two kids, we can't put all the hours that go into such a feat consecutively)

Our cargo for trip #2 in August was gathered and ready within a week after we got into country in May.

And yet for all my planning, my life is still chaos. And it's not the kind of chaos that invigorates but the kind of chaos that pushes and pushes and pushes until you explode like a volcano.

Handwashing dishes is a thankless task that never ends. And with nearly every meal cooked from scratch, there are a lot of dishes. We wash at least a load of laundry a day. We're thankful for the washing machine we have access to in town, but still, it's 3 cycles for the diapers (5 hrs total) and the time to hang all the clothes on the line and bring them in and fold the laundry. And there is no catching up.
There are the babies, a toddler who has emotional needs or whatever, and a baby with biological needs or whatever. And to ignore either would be a detriment. And so all day every day is a crazy fight to keep up with the mundane workings of the household.

But that's not what we're here for.

And when amidst all this chaos, we forgot to grab the laptops on the guaranteed 15 minute endeavor to get everyone dressed, shoes, bilum, hat, diaper bag, past the dog, down the stairs, in the car. Or we forget that the diaper bag is out of Marissa's diapers. And it's these little things, these tiny lags in good planning, these tiny failings that push and push and push.

And so we explode.

By the power of the Spirit in our lives, the explosion is short and followed by apologies because it's nearly inevitable to avoid splashing hot lava on one's spouse when one explodes (but it's not very polite). And a blanket is set on the beach, and while James throws stones and broken coral a solid 3 inches (he hasn't mastered throwing yet), we sit and talk about the heart of our explosion.

We had heard it all before but there's no fixing the unfixable. Laundry won't stop accumulating. Babies won't stop nursing.

This isn't what we're here for! We're supposed to be in the village, learning language, working on bible translation and literacy work, working to see transformed lives through the Scriptures. And instead Jacob is doing more dishes while I nurse Marissa again.

But it's been a reoccurring lesson in our lives that God's timing is better than ours. And there's a reason for why our days are spent planning for abstract plans and mostly housework. The reason eludes me, but the faith in my Lord does not. Instead I pray. I pray to appreciate what I have in the manner that what I have warrants to be appreciated.


Longevity, perseverance is in taking the time to stop. Taking the time to break the normal day and take a deep breath by the sea. And sharing those burdens with one another again.
And now that the pressure has all escaped in an awful explosion, we can start again. And it's not so bad anymore. Because we have a spouse with whom we can explode together, and apologize together, and breath together, and begin again together. It's a precious gift.
And a gift we have because the Lord dismissed our timeline in favor of His own.
So we wait.
To see what joy awaits us this time.

Move: An Open Letter to My Beloved Intern

My beloved intern,

Per PBT policy, I’m letting you know straight up in the introduction here that other people are reading this letter to you (because I’m nothing if not a rule follower (HAHAHAHAHA! …when it suits me) ). I’m writing you an open letter because, as preposterous as it may sound, I don’t believe that your situation is unique.  

You have a heart for missions but don’t know what you should actually do.

It is my advice that you should do something.

My husband was in a predicament much the same as yours when he was but a young single lad. He said that it was the only time he ever heard the Lord speak. Not audibly, but distinctly.

“Choose.”

The issue wasn’t that there was any one thing that he should be doing but rather anything that would advance the Kingdom would be a route pleasing to the Lord. ESL, a pizza flipper, a waiter, a literacy specialist, the job title isn’t as important as what you do in that role. And he did them all. And in all of them, he shared his love of the Lord. (Though he wasn’t particularly talented at being a pizza flipper…)

(Though I will say that if your heart is for missions, then what you do should be missions; although, you may find yourself flipping burgers to pay through grad school and I think you can honor the Lord in that position, too.)

Not everyone has a calling, my love, but not everyone needs one.

I think of the parable of the talents. To some people, the Lord has given a heart for missions and a calling. Those that follow that path find themselves being greeted as a good and faithful servant. To some people, the Lord gives only a heart for missions. I think doing nothing with that is what the servant given one talent shows us.
Instead of doing anything at all, even dropping it in the bank to gather basic interest. The man buries his talent and does nothing. How is this man greeted on his master’s return? Not warmly.

You, with your heart for missions, how much better is it if you go home and angst and worry over what you should be doing with your life and end up doing nothing?

Let me give you a little tok save, my love: you’re a millennial and millennials are notorious for not doing anything “for life”. Rock it! Stop worrying about what God is calling you to do with the rest of your life! Maybe that’s none of your business! Maybe you’re called to walk in faith!

Start thinking about what you’re going to do next.

I’ve heard it said that sometimes God tells you to do something, not because He wants you to do that thing, but because He wants you to walk down that road to get to your next turn.

Have you ever tried to turn a stopped car’s wheels to make a sharp turn? It’s not easy changing course when you’re not even moving. Maybe God needs you to just start moving so he can direct you.

I implore you, my beloved little intern, don’t go home and forget.

MOVE!

Here’s a suggestion: You’re already qualified for survey. Come back here and do that. We need that work done soon. Not necessarily forever. This isn’t a commitment you’re making for the REST OF YOUR LIFE. It’s just something you can do for a season.

You wouldn’t be the first person to change careers on the field.

You wouldn’t be the first person to change fields mid-career.

And, honey, you wouldn’t even be the first person to go stateside and do something entirely different.

Feel the freedom in my words to you. Don’t trap yourself under your own expectations to have your whole life sorted out. You are but a mist, my love. Tomorrow isn’t even guaranteed for you. But Papa God has a plan for you (even if he’s playing his cards close to his chest) and it is a good one.

You only need to move.

OK! Well, now that I finished spewing that wisdom all over the place, imma go to bed. I should’ve gone down with the baby but I knew that if I tried with ALL THIS on my heart to tell you, I would only stare at the ceiling for hours composing it. And momma needs to sleep.  

Note: Apparently, my husband informs me, he heard one other word from the Great Almighty:

“Has Santa ever spoken to you?”