A few months ago, Marissa decided she would be a missionary. She informed me she might not marry and have kids because it might not fit into her whole life as a missionary (which made the inner granny in me rather sad). At first she decided Saudi Arabia was THE place to go, but now she has set her sights on China (which makes the mommy in me tremble a bit). Last week she asked me if I would begin to teach her Chinese, while her brain is still capable of learning things quickly--yep, she said that.
She hung a sign on her bedroom door that says "Missionary Club" and designated Isabella as her "highly assorted assistant" (I'm not entirely sure what that is). On a wall of her room she has taped reminders on how she is to act, on another wall she has taped up things she is praying about, and by the window she made another sign that says "Don't forget why you're here." When we go to stores she writes a little letter and hides it somewhere at the store for customers to find asking if they want to be in her missionary club.
She began a "Missionary Journal" where she writes information down from the books I check out of the library. She talks about Nate Saint, the Muslim religion, and then there are pages and pages on Buddhism. She's trying to get a grasp on their angle so she can figure out the best way to share the gospel with them.
I watch her from a window when she is outside, fearlessly approaching other kids and asking them if they believe in Jesus. I'm amazed, over and over again. Because you see, I'm someone who errs on the side of keeping my mouth shut far too often, blushing when put on the spot . . . I know her determination comes not from my example.
She saves her money for Bibles for people in Russia, because $1 provides them with the means to produce a Bible in their language. When her first grade Sunday School teacher recently passed away she asked if I would send them her $5 bill. Over and over she leaves me dumbfounded. While Josh and I would love to pat ourselves on the back and congratulate ourselves for (so far) raising such a thoughtful girl with a heart for evangelism, we realize that is just not the case. In her, I see her strengths being where I am the weakest. She humbles me, over and over and over again.
God definitely gives us variety in our children. Some amazing me in good ways, some amazing me in not so good ways . . . ;o) In the end, I hope they all grow up with a heart for Jesus, and hope I can do a good job raising them, in spite of myself and shortcomings. This parenting thing . . . it's not for the faint of heart.
pretending and getting real
5 weeks ago