[column width=”1/6″ title=”” title_type=”single” animation=”none” implicit=”true”]

[/column]

[column width=”2/3″ last=”true” title=”” title_type=”single” animation=”none” implicit=”true”]

Have you heard the expression “Boots on the Ground?” Well our Live Dead Missionaries are the boots on the Silk Road. Here we’d like to take a moment and allow one of them to share a snapshot of their life with you. Some names and details have been changed, but this is a true story from this colorful, vibrant, and sometimes surprising region.

I took a batch of cupcakes over to my neighbor lady, Sumayah. Unannounced.

I hadn’t met her before, but her son had already spent hours playing outside with my son. Her son’s birthday was the day prior and I wanted to thank her for raising such a great little boy.

It was out of my comfort zone knocking on her door but she was warm and invited me in. Knowing the culture, I did what I was supposed to do and refused her invitation. She then extended an invitation for dinner that evening. Again following culture, I refused the invite. She asked over and over until I was certain she meant it.

We showed up – me and our three kids.

I wasn’t sure what to expect – except I knew that a hostess in this culture never sits down.

You see, hospitality here isn’t about friendship. Hospitality is about making oneself look as good as possible and hoping that when guests leave they only have good things to say.

The minute we walked in, Paris (our four-year-old) clasped hands with her daughter whom she had never met, and they became “best friends” for the next four hours. I jumped in and asked how I could help. Embarrassed by my offer, she asked me to sit down. So I did.

A little while later, her baby started crying. She called out to her 6-year-old daughter to come take the baby. I picked the baby up first and held her while I watched my new friend prepare food. I read books to her kids and mine. Then, I started slowly to help her set the table. I gathered all the kids and we sat down.

And then, suddenly, Sumayah sat down.

She took off her apron and sighed. I sighed too. She felt it. I did too.

No pressure. No expectations. No judgment. She could just sit with us all together.

The tea in the pot even got cold.

So, now I’m praying that she learns what sitting with Jesus means: No pressure -just patience and kindness. No expectations – just grace and acceptance. No judgement – just love.

[/column]