“You’re getting deployed to where in Africa?”
“Eswatini.”“What?”
“NO MAMA! NO GO!”
Of course, my children’s response was a vehement no. I was their world, and my departure would be like the sun leaving its place in their universe. It would be wrong, overturning the immutable laws of the cosmos.
When I first got the email, my eyes glazed over.
“Wanna go to Africa for six weeks?” My professor wrote.
I chuckled. How ridiculous. “I’m a mom now,” I thought, “Surely he knows that!”
The bold letters stared right back at me- Global Outbreak Alert Response Network Call for Humanitarian Assistance in Africa.
I clicked the window shut. Case closed.
Weeks later, while preparing for a sermon called “Will you Risk?,” something in my spirit stirred- how could I preach this if I myself had lost the willingness to risk?
If I were a mother who claimed to model faith for my children, why did I justify my lack of availability with my need to steward my children? The email, buried dead and deep in my inbox, began to turn and lurch. I searched for it. It hadn’t changed.
There, were the same words. A call for humanitarian assistance.
For the first time, I showed it to Cliff. “Of course you should say yes. At least offer yourself, no?”
“What? Do you know what you’re saying-What if I actually do get picked?”
A week later, at dawn, I went for my early morning jog, a fresh email weighing heavy on my heart. I did not want to tell Cliff.
As soon as I walked in through the door, he sensed my disposition and called me out, “The email came, didn’t it. Spill it out. So where is it.”
The air froze like cracked glass.
“It’s Congo,” I said.
“What?!”
Silence.
We parted ways that day. I took the kids to the zoo while Cliff spent the day with God. I
n the afternoon as he picked me up, I saw his eyes glisten with tears. “ I know that people will ask me how I could possibly let you go to such a dangerous place. But God spoke to me today- how can I not let you go, when the needs are so great and He’s opened the door.”
Tears glistened on two faces.
We began to share the news with our littles. Vehement protests- “NO!” gave way to curiosity- “WHERE IS AFRICA MAMA,” which gave way to openness “ARE YOU TAKING A PLANE MAMA.”
One day during homeschooling, my four-year showed me a picture she drew on an exercise book- “Look Mama, this is Papa, Meimei (little sis) and me on a plane. Papa is taking us to have fun somewhere. And that is you, going to Africa.”
My eyes teared.
For months, I had taught my children a little rhyme I had made up for them- “Even though we may be far apart, We are always joined heart to heart.”
Her plane drawing encapsulated the spirit of the rhyme- Though we were heading to different geographical locations, we were on the same vehicle, the same united mission of obeying God.
“I will miss you Mama. But God and Papa will take care of me and Meimei here in Singapore.”
Two days later, I was informed that the deployment wasn’t a good fit. My specialization was in health communication and not being able to speak French was a major disadvantage.
“We’ll rematch you to a different place. But no guarantee.”
No guarantee.
One Friday evening, as I was praying, I came across a quote which said “MAKE ROOM FOR WHAT YOU PRAY FOR.”
A physical sensation overcame me. I knew it was the Holy Spirit.
The next day, as if in universal conspiracy, my parents, who had not yet heard the news, showed up with bags of my old belongings from their home. I opened them in shock.
There before me, lay all my clothes I had packed for mission trips since 2006. Make room for what you pray for. I started packing.
Christmas came and went. No deployment news.
I smiled a big wide smile of relief inside. Maybe they’ve forgotten me. Maybe there’s just no match. Maybe it was just a test of my faith and I passed. Great.
On Boxing Day, came the warning shot. “BNLS countries are interested.”
I felt God say, “Get ready.”
Then no news again for days.
At breakfast the next week, my four-year old looked at me and said, “Mama, before I slept last night, Jesus told me this.”She took a deep breath, and wagged her right index finger, “Sarah-Faith, don’t worry about your Mummy when she’s in Africa because I will take care of her, OKAY?!’ “
Such is the child-like faith of a four-year-old.
Such is the opportunity we have to impart a faith by leaning on the One who gives us grace to ask for the faith we do not have. W
hen the email finally came from WHO and UNICEF, our hearts had made space for the life-changing news- “Urgent Request for RCCE Specialist deployment to Eswatini for COVID-19 Outbreak Response.”
Suddenly, I remembered a prophecy shared with me four years ago by a pastor- “you will work with UN to save the lives of millions of children”.
I had scoffed in tears back then. Me? The one who scraped through medical school? Yeah right. Even when I strived for those opportunities at John’s Hopkins, the doors were tightly shut. Now, through being mistaken for a cartoonist during the COVID-19 outbreak, my life was rerouted. Even when I tried to plan my own ways, God redirected my path.
“Mama, I will miss you. I made this bracelet for you to wear in Africa every day.”
In a very little while, I will be leaving for Eswatini for nearly two months.
I will miss Chinese New Year, my firstborn’s 5th birthday and my own birthday. I am grieved, nervous, excited and petrified all at once. My heart is breaking knowing that my two-year old will not fully understand why she will awaken one morning to find me gone on a 1am flight.
But I know the prayers of family and friends around the world will sustain us. Your encouragement has blessed us deeply. If there’re ways you feel led to sow into our family by babysitting, offering play dates, prepping meals or encouraging Cliff and the kids during the two months I’m away, please drop us a note.
Most of all, your prayers mean, have always meant, everything to our family. Thank you for journeying with us. We so appreciate your friendship and love.
