First of all, a mission trip is not glamorous. While the idea of a mission trip might sound glamorous in a 'save the world' kind of way, reality is a lot more, well, realistic. Malawi is dirty, literally. Hard-packed red dirt is everywhere. There is no escaping it. It coats your skin, covers your feet, and changes the color of your shoes forever. It gets in your nose so when you blow your nose you have dirty, red snot. It gets in your food. It give the term dirty rice a whole new meaning. The children are often dirty. Of course they are. They play in the dirt all day. And they don't wash their hands after toileting. I know this as they grab my hand to hold it while we walk together. The toddlers usually have snot dripping from their noses and often use the bathroom wherever they happen to be standing at the time. The babies are known to pee and poop while being held, and they aren't wearing nice absorbent Pampers. They aren't even wearing old fashioned cloth diapers. The are wearing a piece of thin fabric called a chitenje wrapped around them which leaks a lot. At the end of the day I take a bath by diaper wipe to knock off the most obnoxious dirt before I climb into the sheets. The next morning I try to knock another layer of dirt off with a shower, and I use the term shower loosely. It is really a bucket of hot water, a cup, and a rock (used to scrub your feet) in an outdoor stall. The dirt never really goes away. There is very little glamore.
Secondly, a mission trip is not a waste of money. I personally have struggled with the idea of spending so much money on plane tickets to travel to Malawi. I have had people tell I am selfish for using it on myself for a plane ticket. Why, then, did God call me there? When I went to Malawi the first time I had very little idea of why I was supposed to go or what I was supposed to do while there, even after I arrived. I still don't necessarily feel like I did much, but I do know that to those children at the Grace Center my time with them was precious and treasured. You can't put a value on relationship. For an American to fly half way across the world just to spend time with them makes the children feel special and valued. We were quite the novelty in Malawi. As we drove down the road, children from the villages would see us and chase our van yelling "azungu" (which basically means white people.) This year I paid for most of my trip out of pocket. We are considered a low income family here in America. We don't have the money for a nearly $2000 plane ticket. But it is all God's money, really. And if He feels like this is a good way to spend it, who am I to argue?
Lastly, a mission trip is not a vacation. While I am traveling the world, experiencing new cultures, and seeing God's glorious creation, a vacation is intended for relaxation and refreshing. My experience in Malawi was hard work spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Let's face it, I am not a young girl anymore. I have some medical issues and several back, neck, hip, knee, and foot problems. Walking hurts. Standing hurts. Sleeping hurts. Sitting hurts. We sit on the ground frequently in Malawi. It hurts. A lot. During the five hour or longer church services, I am considered one of the older women so I get the privilege of sitting on a chair instead of the ground, but the chairs aren't necessarily much better. One chair leaned so badly I could barely stand afterward. The long plane ride to and from Africa is miserable. The long daily walk up and down the hill is hard on my hips and feet. The squatty potty (a hole in the ground in an outdoor stall) is very hard on my cracking and crumbling knees. I am usually stiff, sore, hurting, and exhausted by the end of each day. Emotionally it is hard leaving my family behind. I am a homeschooling mom and am used to having my children with me 24/7. I will be leaving a loving and somewhat young for his age 8 year old in the care of his 14 year old brother who is responsible and kind but struggling with some anxiety issues right now and his 18 year old brother who will take good care of him but just isn't 'mom'. It is hard not knowing how they are and what they are doing everyday. It is hard not hugging them each morning and kissing them goodnight. Leaving my already busy husband to take over my responsibilities is difficult, too. I will miss sleeping by his side each night and I will miss having him there to share my worries and stories of the day. Being in Malawi is a spiritual challenge as well. It is not easy to see the level of poverty that exists in Malawi. I have served the poor in America. It isn't the same. I have heard people speak against mission trips claiming that there are poor right here in America that need help. You know what? They are right. But the level of poverty versus the resources available to the poor simply does not compare. Here we have programs giving free food, money, clothing, and medical care to the poor. Yes, they still have a need. I am not discounting their need. I am so thankful for people who see their need and serve them. But the level of poverty simply doesn't compare. It is hard to see children wearing clothes tattered to shreds day after day because it is all they have. Or seeing three year old children saving beans from the feeding program in torn, dirty plastic bag to take back to their families. Or knowing children whose families sent them away because they could no longer care for them. Or seeing a stooped old woman who is little more than skin and bones working hard to take care of her family. Or seeing children that I knew, that I spent time with, that I cared about, die because medical care is not easily accessible. I come back from Malawi so very broken yet refreshed in a way that a vacation cannot refresh. I learn much about myself. I grow and sometimes growing is painful.
So, you might wonder if this mission trip is so hard, so dirty, so challenging, so painful, why am I going back? That answer is simple. God asked me to go and I said yes. I might not have much to offer, but just like the little boy who offered his little lunch to feed five thousand, my little becomes much in the hands of Jesus.
