Addicted

Hi. My name is Rebecca. I’m addicted to taking mission’s trips.

No. Really. I think I am. Nothing helps. I should know; I’ve tried. Spending all my money on . . . car insurance and Captain Crunch. Watching movies of foreign places and pretending I’m there. Reading horror stories of planes swallowed by the sea. Locking myself in the closet.

Okay, I never really locked myself in the closet.

I even moved to Hong Kong for a year and a half. And went on a week-long mission’s trip to the Philippines from there.

But I thought I was making a break-through. I haven’t been out of the country for an entire 24 months. Two years and no new stamps in the passport. That’s pretty good, right? And I’ve only been to ten states in the meantime. Eh-hem. Eleven. Not counting Nebraska.

I have a confession to make. I’m going to Haiti in October.

Sorry, fellow addicts. I’ve let you down. Again.

It was my church’s idea. My dad’s helping to head it up. My sister’s going. And my mom. And my brother-in-law. Plus 16 other people I more or less know. My dog has to stay home.

I’m actually pretty excited. Except the part about my dog. Is that better than being in denial? We’re going with AIM (Adventures in Missions), and we’ll be doing stuff with food, orphans, churches, water, mosquitoes, sweat, and cameras. We don’t actually know exactly what we’re going to be doing. Flexibility is a good thing. I’ll let you know when I get back.

The exact dates of the trip are October 3-10. Two and a half months and counting. We need shots and backpacks and stickers and plane tickets and bug spray. And prayer. We could use quite a bit of prayer. For flexibility. If we’re open to anything, I’m sure God will do the rest.

So, I’m inviting you to join in the addiction. I’d tell you to come, but we’ve already got more on the trip than we’re supposed to. You can go next year. In the meantime, please pray. For us. For them. For you. For the world. God is much more addicted to missions than I am.


Here we are. The team. Stocking up on shots and counting down the days.

Front Door Entertainment

So, lately I’ve been shaking off feelings of slight boredom and possible uselessness. This is Nebraska, after all. The corn doesn’t need that much help growing. And taking daily measurements shouldn’t really be my favorite pastime. It isn’t healthy.

But where are the oceans? The rain forests? The spectacular waterfalls and breathtaking heights? It’s kinda hard to rock-climb down a ditch. Ever tried scuba diving in a mud puddle? Wow. Look at those mosquito babies.

Then I walked out the front door and saw this:


But that wasn’t quite interesting enough. So, I dug out the extra-strength macro lens and tried again. That helped.


Personally, I think he’s rather cute.

Spiderman does exist. Only they got the color all wrong. It’s green, not red. Sparkly green, to be more precise. Maybe they figured it wasn’t masculine enough. Gotta leave the man something to be proud of if he does have to walk around in tights.

I think the little guy liked getting his picture taken. He stared straight at me the whole time and wiggled just enough to show off his good side. I can just hear him, jabbering away through his pincers. “Do I look fat from this angle? How about now?”

I was rude. I didn’t even answer him. To be honest, I was a little preoccupied wrapping the camera strap securely around my neck. Didn’t want to drop it when I screamed and leapt skyward. I had to be prepared in case he jumped on me.

Hm. He never jumped. The camera’s still in one piece. So is my neck, for that matter.

But the world lost a fascinating model ten minutes later. My mom was spraying for flies and she hit bigger game. Goodbye, Spiderman. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you you weren’t fat.

Bug Juice and Life Purposes

It started out much like a court session. Or what I assume court sessions are like from my extensive experience watching them on movies.

“All arise. The honorable Judge presiding.”

“This court is now in session.”

“Will the plaintiff (That’s me.) please arise and state her case.”

So, I pretended to stand (Pretending was my safest bet since I was driving.) and stated my case. It was quite a good case too. All about how unfair it is for this world to be so beautiful, so lost, with so many opportunities for doing good, and why don’t I seem to fit in anywhere? I’m piece 101 in a hundred piece puzzle. The chocolate chip cookie when everyone’s full on ice cream and cake. Superfluousity. And while we’re at it, why is the sky blue? What makes it blue instead of something else? And why, if air is clear, can’t we see the stars while the sun is shining? And why, if we are all born with a purpose, can’t I find mine? Is it hiding under the couch? What is the meaning of life? I felt just like Solomon. Spouting off bits of wisdom that would make great Chinese proverbs if only I were Chinese. Maybe he could be the wisest man in the world, and I could be the wisest woman.

And then God spoke.

A bug splooshed against my arm. (For those of you who don’t know, a sploosh is something between a squelch and a splosh. I’m sure all mothers know exactly what I’m talking about.) Bug juice went everywhere. There was a nice slimy trail up my arm and little dabs on my thumb.

One-arm-out-the-window drivers, take warning.

“This court is now adjourned.”

It’s rather hard to state your case about the unfairness of life with bug juice splattered on your arm. It’s even harder to stay mad at the Judge who splattered you.

So, what did I do once I’d stopped case-stating? I laughed. All because some poor bug gave up his juice all over my arm just to get God’s point across. Did that bug think his life was superfluous?

I was driving to work. I looked at my arm, considering whether or not I could get away with leaving the bug juice on. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wash it off. It’s reminding me of God.”

That might not have gone over very well. I’ll never know. I didn’t try.

I still have my job.

So, what have I learned? Hm. I’m not entirely sure.

Moral #1: Roll up the window. Turn on the air conditioning. Save a bug’s life.

Moral #2: Never attempt to take your car into court.

Moral #3: When God says, “You are so small. When I look at you, I need a magnifying glass. Or I would if My eyesight wasn’t so good. Why do you want to be bigger than I made you?” - listen well. He’s got plenty of bug juice to back Him up.