When I was a little girl, I loved to play on the swing set in my backyard.  There was this one part of it shaped almost like a basket — so, it became known as the basket swing.  Two children could fit on the seats, as long as they were facing each other.  By leaning either forward or backward together, whoever was on my swing with me could make it go back and forth.

As only a little child can, I truly believed that Jesus would come and sit on that swing with me each warm summer night.  I imagined that we were rocking it back and forth together.  And, as it rocked, I would talk to Him.

One day, I had been thinking a lot about what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I was having a hard time choosing between becoming a teacher, nurse or President of the United States — a weighty decision for an eight year old.  That night, as I rocked back and forth, I finally came up with my decision.

“Jesus?  I’ve got something to tell you.” I always started our conversations this way.

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to be when I grow up.  I was wondering if I could please just be someone that gets to help other people.  I want to do whatever people do that help each other.”

Tonight, some fifteen years later, I can still remember what the sky looked like that evening and what color of dress I was wearing.  Somehow that night I knew that my life would never be the same.  I just knew.

And, I suppose, I was right. 

All week, as I’ve been honored to be a part of the GIC Missions Conference, I’ve been thinking about that story.  What I haven’t really mentioned this week is that not only was I the only single missionary in the conference line-up, I was also the youngest.  I was thrown in a mix with missionary couples from Japan, Afghanistan, India and Ecuador.  Night after night they shared stories of reaching hundreds, even thousands of people in other countries for the Lord. 

And me?  I reach seventh grade girls who still stick their bubble gum to the underside of their school desks.

There was a lot of potential for me to wonder if what I’m doing with my life matters.  A lot of room for me to question if my work makes a difference.  A lot of time to sit quietly and just think.

Near the end of the week, the missionary from India spoke at one of the events.  She shared about how she cares for 67 children — though she refused to use the word orphanage as she said no child of hers lives in anything other than a home.  I sat very quietly in the back of the room, just listening to Esther’s stories.

And then it was my turn to speak.

So, I did.  The crowd laughed and cried and, like most speakers, I was glad when my time limit was up. 

That night, after the evening service ended, I approached Esther.  I wanted her to know how much I had enjoyed getting to know more of her story but before I could get anything out, she took my face between her hands.

“Amy, sweet Amy… I’ve been waiting all day to tell you something.”

I was stunned.

“When you spoke earlier, I was moved to tears.  It is not I who is a missionary, it is you, my Amy.”

I began to protest but she quickly shushed me in the way only a mother to 67 children can do.

“To do what you’re doing in this country at your age is remarkable.  I couldn’t do it.  I am so very proud of you.”

I stammered out something to her about how I felt the same was true about her; I certainly couldn’t do what this woman does for orphans in her native country.  I mean, I can’t even serve processed nacho cheese without gagging let alone be responsible for the care of a home full of orphans.

Late last night, I started thinking about what Esther said to me and I couldn’t help but to remember that –

“One generation will commend Your works to another; they will tell of Your mighty works.” Psalm 145:4

I may be a young voice, but I am a voice.  And, for as long as this voice will make any sound at all, I will be honored to use it to tell of His works. 

I’ll know that even though I am from a different generation than most missionaries, my generation will get to share about His works to the next generation — just as all of us in Starlite do each and every week.

But most of all, I will remember to sit on my side of the basket swing and watch His cue to see if we’re leaning forward or backward.  After all, the basket swing only works if both people are leaning in the same direction together.

And I want to swing with Him until the sky grows dark tonight.