It's not tracking through the jungle in the steaming heat,
It's not eating shish-kabob made of monkey meat,
It's not cutting up python with your pocket knife,
That makes the biggest part of a missionary's life.
But it's hoping that your kids will just take a nap,
While you're trying to find a church with a hand-drawn map.
It's raising your kids from the front seat of your car,
While you're driving down the road trying to figure out just where you are.
It's not cruising down the river in a dug-out log.
It's not being guest of honor where they're serving dog.
It's not shooting the breeze in Swahili with the old Zulu.
But it's getting rid of things that you've had for years,
While you try to pack a barrel through a blur of tears.
It's saying good-bye to Grandma just one more time,
While you're sitting at the airport just pretending you're feeling fine.
It's not wearing funny clothes in a foreign land.
It's not speaking jungle-ease like the natives can.
It's not even baptizing thousands in a single day,
Or always getting what you wanted every single time you pray.
But it's going to other people that you've come to know,
And rejoicing in the Lord as you see them grow.
It's thanking the Lord for all that He has done.
And then it's going home on furlough when you feel like you've just begun.
Yes, it's going to other people that you've come to know,
And rejoicing in the Lord as you see them grow.
It's thanking the Lord for all that He has done.
And then it's going home on furlough when you feel like you've just begun.
Yes, that's the biggest part of a missionary's life.
(Not my original - not sure who wrote this)
