Last week Mom informed us July 21st was the 34th anniversary of our family's arrival in Haiti in 1976, well 34th for most of us - Dad grew up there so he has the rest of us beat.
Now, Mom has more than once informed me she is a coward. I happen to disagree. She may not feel brave, but she is courageous. I more than once have seen her move forward despite how fearful she may be feeling. For example, our arrival in Haiti. I know I was just barely 4 years old, but I have some very vivid memories of that trip.
I remember arriving at Missionary Flights International and watching them put something in the front of the plane, behind the propeller. Looking back they might have been doing the pre-flight checks, but to my four year old eyes it looked like they were putting some thing in the plane. The plane was a small one, probably a nine-passenger or something. Most of the cabin was filled with several 55-gallon drums filled with our belongings. The only seats were for Mom and me since she was holding a not quite 3 month old Amy. Dad, who is NOT a pilot, sat in the co-pilot seat. I don't remember this, but apparently we had to stop in the Bahamas because of a problem.
So I ask you, would you describe a woman who follows her husband to the mission field in a country where she does not speak the language and knows no one other than her in-laws who won't even be in the same town a coward? To flesh out the picture, she had never even visited the country and had a strong dislike (should I say terror?) of bugs which are unavoidable to say the least when living in the tropics. I grew up on the mission field in Haiti and I am not sure how able I would be to that.
