You step through the airport doors,
my young son
Going to a country we had never heard of,
until God called you there.
Sierra Leone the paper said,
as you paused in shock and bewilderment.
We jumped right into visas and vaccines,
gathering the things we thought you would need
hoping it was enough.
All to quickly the day arrived.
We gathered at the airport to say good-bye.
You, my young son, were nervous and scared
but trying not to show it.
But I knew, I could see it in you stance and in your eyes.
And because I know you, only as a mother can know their son.
My young son who has never liked change or the unknown.
I also saw the almost imperceptible
straightening of the shoulders
the resolve and determination in your eyes
as you trusted God's plan.
We gave you one last hug and you stepped through those airport doors
into His hands.
A whirlwind few weeks of classes and learning
study and pray.
Another airport, and a day and a half later
you stepped into a world so foreign to all you had known.
Dirt floors and poverty
Unreliable water and electricity
Learning a language or three
Bartering for food, brooking clothes
Keke rides and walking for miles.
Sometimes they laughed at you
and called you 'white boy'
These humble and happy people
Every day you give it your all,
working sun up to sun down.
Military coop, killing rats, gunshots and lockdowns.
Hot hot days and unrelenting rain and mud.
You continue to search for the souls God sent you there to find.
Some companions you have to learn to love
others it comes easily.
Service and lessons, filling fonts by bucket, malaria, and cooking food over a fire
You continue to teach of God's love.
Most weeks we get to talk to you
by email or video chat. We laugh and discuss.
Pray and marvel at every experience and opportunity you are given.
And every week we see you, my young son,
as your testimony grows.
I anxiously await the day you walk back through those airport doors.
When we can give you a hug and see you face to face.
For the day that God releases you back to me.
Yet knowing He will not return you as my young son
but as a man, a bit of a stranger.
One that who, as he walked through the fire,
took one step closer to becoming the person God wants you to become.
