Blame the Mom

So, Amy’s in China. Yes, that China. The China that’s half-way around the world from me; a twelve hour time difference and the Pacific Ocean separate me from my baby. Or the Atlantic, I suppose. Could be either since she’s smack dab on the opposite side of the globe.

This is my mother’s fault.

If Mom hadn’t let me go on summer mission trips, I would not be letting my daughter go. And then she’d be here with me right now instead of being stuck on a plane for 20 hours in the midst of Beijing’s worst rainfall in six decades, eating strange foods with chopsticks and sleeping under mosquito netting.

Amy and her fellow teammates, beginning their long journey to China

Of course, during the time she was stuck on the plane, she and her teammates befriended the other people around them. She said she got pretty good at chopsticks (she had 20 hours on the plane to practice). And she was so tired from the travels that the sleeping conditions didn’t bother her at all.

Her quick phone call last night confirmed all those things. And the excitement in her voice reminded me that God is in control and cares more about my baby than I do. Which I, of course, know in my head. My heart was just taking a wee bit longer to catch on.

Regardless, I’m blaming my mom. Which means Amy will get to blame me when her daughter wants to go half-way around the world at 15.

Oh, man, I hope she does. That's some blame I won't mind. And I bet my mom agrees.