THE CRATES
I remember that cold winter in eastern Oklahoma. We were snowed in for about 2 weeks. Soon after we were packing - but I had never seen crates that would travel internationally before - so this was no packing I was used to. My 6'5 father could easily walk right into these huge wooden boxes. Mom was insistent that we pack every "nook and cranny" so that nothing would budge.

It took us a few months to retrieve the crates once we were in Brazil. But it was like that snowy, freezing Christmas all over again - except without the snow or cold. Finally having "our" stuff was like taking in a deep breath. It was a nice feeling. It took us a while to unpack those silly monstrosities, but we put them in the front yard and took everything in one thing at a time. The boxes stayed out in the yard for a few days. I was sure everyone was curious what they were.

I rode the bus to and from school every day. Mom and Dad had to go to language school in the afternoons, so I would usually get home before them. I had a key to the house - a strange house at that. It was only to serve the purpose of us having a safe place to stay for one year. So the front door was like a sliding glass door. The living room was first - going through the door, you would see the small dining room. Off the left side of the dining room was another door that led to the ultra-white kitchen with those crazy horizontally-slatted windows way up at the top. There was a back door in the kitchen. The hallway was directly after the dining room - it was a loooooooong hallway with 3 bedrooms and a bathroom. I thought it was so cool because it had a wooden floor. I would put my socks on a just play sliding down the hallway. After this day, the hallway was not my friend anymore.

Coming home from school, I walked into the living room -

"What a mess! Were Mom and Dad late to school today and looking for something in here? Wait a minute - where's the TV and vcr? Did they have some kind of project at school where they had to take them? That's weird."

I walked through to the dining room -

"What is my bike doing in front of the hallway door? I know I had brake problems with it - maybe Uncle Bruce came to fix it today." (We always refer to the other missionaries as "Uncle" and "Aunt.")

I walked in to the kitchen, my heart pumping...
Muddy footprints all over our white kitchen - those stupid windows are broken with one of our towels thrown through them -
THE BACK DOOR!!!! It's swinging - like someone just went through it!

I didn't know much Portuguese, so I ran back to the living room where the phone was -the whole time calling for my Dad in Portuguese - "Pai? Papai? PAI!"

I called the only number I knew - the other missionary family who was our host family - my best friend, their son who was my same age answered:

"Donnie! Help! It's Rachel! I just got home and I think someone might still be in the house - we have been robbed!!! I'm leaving!" Click.

I went across the street and tried to communicate with our neighbor's housekeeper - she could not understand me. Then I heard the cars coming - missionaries - "THANK YOU JESUS!" One came to pick me up - the others who were quite massive in stature ran into our house. The police were not far behind with Donnie leading the way.

I went to Donnie's house. All I remember was being with him and Aunt Billie. I didn't see Mom and Dad for a while.

Years later I realized something. My parents didn't forget about me or not want to see me. My parents were livid. How could G-d dare to send them to a country to be missionaries where their baby would be in danger within the first few months? How could He possibly think that this was ok? Why do we have to learn this stupid language, live in this dumb culture, endanger ourselves to help people who want our demise?!!!

I didn't see my parents because they couldn't see me. They did not want me to see them furious with the L-rd. They did not want to endanger my spiritual well-being. They wanted me to think everything was ok...these things happen, and you just live with them.
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Well, these things and many, many others DO happen. We DO have to live with them. But we must also LEARN from them. Otherwise, the entire master plan is useless. It wouldn't be the last time we would be robbed - but it would be the last time we would act so innocently about material possessions. It's just stuff - we must keep our eyes on the prize.

2Cr 4:18 While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen [are] temporal; but the things which are not seen [are] eternal.