Many times in missions the men seem to get the glory. In a few rare cases, like Isobel Kuhn, Amy Carmichael, Mary Slessor, the ladies seem to stand in the spot light, but most often it seems that the great women seem to be content in the shadows and help their husbands to do what God wants. Ann Judson helped Adinoram to be the man that he was and his ‘team’ would have been incomplete without her. Maria Hudson was the helping hand that so greatly aided Hudson Talyor in his early years of the mission.
I was reminded again of the great blessing I have in my wonderful wife this week. Patty had to go in for a minor surgery this week. She went in Saturday, and returned on Sunday morning. A I sat outside waiting for her to come out of the ‘theatre’ many thoughts flooded my mind. I hope she was be fine, but what if? Then I started thinking how difficult life would be here without her. How much I love her and am thankful that God has allowed her to be here! Basically after the hour of surgery, when they rolled her out of the ‘theatre’ I was very happy to she.
The surgery went well, we are almost back to normal, and we even washed clothes by hand together today, since the water has been off for a week. It is good to have reminds. So today post is given in honor of my missionary wife.
The poem is for her. She read it and said that it was quite good.
Missionary Mother's Dilema
by Pam Griffis
The very first thing in the morning
I plan my schedule for the day.
I think I've got it all worked out,
In my neatly organized way.
Devotions first; Then Aerobics! (Of course!)
"Breakfast?", Did my hubby say?
Quickly fed and swiftly dressed,
I send the little ones out to play.
"Oh, I forgot today is wash day!"
As the generator starts to run.
I rush to gather the dirty clothes
I must hurry and get them done.
Above the din of the washer,
Shouts the voice of my 4 yr. old son.
"Mom, J.J. has to go potty!"
"And he broke my favorite gun!"
I settle the fight and dry the tears,
The clothes are finally hung out.
As I sit to type the culture file,
There is yet another shout!
"Hun, Awelalu brought sweet potatoes!"
I try to hide a frowny pout.
I really enjoy my chat with her,
Knowing that is what it is all about!
Lunch time comes all to soon.
"Where's desert?", the clan wants to know.
I could pull my hair out one by one,
But I don't want my feelings to show.
Dishes to wash, then rest time;
I am feeling pretty low.
I sit down to study language,
And a windy rain starts to blow.
I run to rescue the clothes off the line,
The kids wake up from their nap,
"Did you bake cookies yet?, they ask me,
As they climb up on my lap.
An hour later, the cookies baked,
Clothes folded and put away.
A sigh of relief and a "Thank you, Lord,"
Is all I am able to say.
When supper is over, baths and dishes done,
And our family pauses to pray.
When my little ones say, "Thank you for Mom,"
My frustrations fade quickly away.
Tomorrow will surely be better,
And if not, God planned it that way.
He knows what I need for my growing.
I am only to "rest" and obey
