My face, His hands

About the time I felt seen

“What was deputation like?”

My eye twitches a little every time I hear this question.

(Please don’t feel bad if you’ve asked this before! It’s not you; it’s deputation that did this to me.)

Truth be told, deputation¹ was a mixed bag of experiences - you just never knew what you would pull out each day. The nature of the beast, though, is that you continued to put your hand back in and roll with the punches.

Some of my best memories were thanks to deputation though. The time we got to spend together as a family was priceless, especially after years of Garry and I both working multiple jobs at the same time to pay the bills. The places we got to go were incredible - so many beautiful sights that we never thought we’d get to see. The friendships we were able to form during those traveling years has been such a gift to this day. Many of you reading this are a product of that gift - thank you!

But traveling with three small kids was no easy feat. I’m still amazed we were able to do it and are still in one piece. It might sound trite, but it was really all God that guided us through it.

Deputation, being as fast-paced as it was, has become one blur of stories that kind of run together. But there’s one story in particular that I love to look back on because it reminds me of what good the church can do. It’s one of the best examples I have of how the Christian family bond runs deeper than any of us can see on the surface. And how responding to the Holy Spirit’s nod can mean the world to someone who has struggles you couldn’t possibly know about.

We had just made another cross-country trip. We were nearing the end of our deputation journey, the finish line of “fully supported” was close on the horizon. Three years of traveling and upheaval and wonky routines was almost over, and it felt like we could only crawl over the finish line due to sheer exhaustion.

Our emotions were all over the place - relief over finally finishing, anxiety as my visa was still sitting unapproved, sadness over our impending departure, overwhelm at all the final details that needed to be sorted and all that needed packed. Adding all that on top of the burden of normal family things - tired kids plus tired parents is just a mixture of misunderstandings waiting to happen - we were feeling weighed down.

We made it to our scheduled meeting without any real issues. While we were truly excited to meet with another group of believers, we were feeling burdened by the waves of emotions we were riding.

The meeting went really well! My husband gave his testimony, he showed our video, we made great connections with the people, and were able to get involved in a few of their ministries - truly, everything every missionary hopes for from a deputation meeting!

At the end of the evening service, as is common with most meetings, there was a group of people who were more than happy to hang back to get to know us and take a look at our display table. Usually, my husband was the one that most people wanted to meet (I get it - he is a really cool guy with a really cool story!), which meant I was typically hanging back, keeping an eye on the kids who were spent by this point of the day, and generally just being available should I be needed.

It was at this point that I’m sure the look on my face betrayed me - I was worn out. And it was at this time, an encounter happened that I have never forgotten.

I was standing next to my husband while he chatted about Australia with a member of the congregation. As much as I tried to pay attention to the conversation, my mind was in a million different places - sometimes on my kids as I checked to see where they were, and sometimes back in the hotel as I mentally went through my check list of all the things I needed to do before I could finally jump in bed and call it a day.

The next thing I knew, there was a lady standing directly in front of me watching me. I have no idea where she came from or how long she was standing there, but there she was.

At first, I startled (seriously, *where* did she come from?). But then, as she stared at me, I could see she saw something. There was a look of compassion across her face, maybe coming from a place of understanding.

I smiled at her and as I did, she put her hands on my face.

Normally I shy away from touch, especially from strangers. But there was something different here, something maternal. She didn’t say anything at first. But as her hands gently cupped my face, I could feel the tension that had built up in my shoulders begin to release. And then she spoke:

“I see you, mama.”

She didn’t know me. She didn’t know my struggles. She didn’t know how much effort it was taking to stand there and be present in the moment. She didn’t know all the fears and worries that would inevitably overrun the coming days.

But she saw me anyway. She *chose* to see me, when I, lost in my own world, could so easily have been overlooked. And with that simple acknowledgement, I broke down into tears.

I have no idea who this lady was. To this day, I could not pinpoint who this exact lady is though I have tried several times on that church’s Facebook page to see a glimpse of her in their photos. For all I know, she was an angel sent from God at a time I so badly needed His embodied encouragement.

We had a good conversation after that initial encounter, one where she did her best to understand a life that she herself did not have. In other words, she saw me. And it was in that deep seeing that I felt the strength to keep going towards that finish line. My energy was failing, but God worked through that lady that day. I cry with gratitude every time I think of her.

This experience showed me what it meant to be a part of the family of God.

So often we lean into the human inclination to point out each other’s differences - whether that difference is their looks or their personality, their job status or their marital status, how much money they have or how much availability they have. And then we use those differences as an excuse as to why we can’t connect, why we can’t send the invitation, why we can’t initiate the conversation. Cliques form, we get comfortable with our own people, and let the outliers fall where they may.

It was easy for me to be left out. But she reached out. She made sure I wouldn’t fade into the background. She made sure I wouldn’t feel lost in the sea of people. She acted as God would have.

As members of the family of God, we are not marked by our ability to spot the differences. We are not called Christians because we are good at pointing the finger or ostracizing or creating initiation processes in order to earn our generosity.

Jesus, in John 13, tells us what should make us different than the world: “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another."

Love. The decision to give with no expectation of reciprocation. Giving of our time, of our attention, of our focus.

Love is what people will know us by.

It’s easy to get lost in our own worlds with all its demands and distractions and minute-by-minute needs. Every once in a while though, the Holy Spirit gives us a nudge and an intuitive nod in someone’s direction. And as someone who has been on the receiving end of that nod, let me tell you with all that is within me: it’s worth it to look up and out to see who is needing the reassuring love of God that overflows out of us.

If you hear that still, small voice, please lean into it. You never know how much good even just a hug can do for the person on the other side.

And if you’re the one who is in need of a little extra love, pray it in. If I could, I’d give you that hug personally. But God is faithful and “… forgetteth not the cry of the humble.”²

He longs for you to feel His love. And He always has His way.

“He sides with you against your sin, not against you because of your sin.”

Dane Ortlund, quoted from “Gentle and Lowly”

the miscellany

All the random things that have been bringing us joy

• something we’re reading: For Mindy: Boundaries by Drs. Cloud and Townsend, and the most gorgeous hardback of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte bought from the secondhand bookstore next door to where our church is meeting; For Isla: I Love You Through and Through by Bernadette Rossetti Shustak; For Elin: Anne of Avonlea by L. M. Montgomery

• something we’re using: It’s almost winter here in the Southern Hemisphere and with the cooler temps come the higher likelihood of sickness. We’ve gone through three whole rounds of sickness in our house since March, with one sickness recently landing Isla in the hospital for some extra breathing support (she’s home now and has recovered enough to get right back to her usual routine of emptying bookshelves and all the kitchen drawers - a very welcome sight). I have tried so many different things to help boost our immune system, but it seems like the Boiron line of homeopathic meds have been helping us the most! We’ve been using Cold Calm and Drosera to help with colds. (If you’re in Australia, iherb.com usually has them in stock!)

• something we’re loving: Speaking of winter, you might be surprised to know that it can get a little chilly here (or maybe my blood is finally thinning out? TBD on that one). My kids got me a knock-off Oodie for Mother’s Day - the biggest, fluffiest, warmest hooded sweatshirt-blanket I’ve ever seen! It’s like a Snuggie but more practical. I can wear an actual blanket while I fold the laundry, guys. It’s changed my wintering life!

1. For those not familiar with the term, deputation is when missionaries travel to churches to raise funds to go to their respective mission fields.

2. Psalm 9:12