Friday, September 21, 2007

Missionary Mother's Dilema

This was written by a missionary wife who served among the indians of Venezuela. She had been asked to write this poem to put into a missionary cookbook. Unfortunately, Pam Griffis died suddenly while in the jungle before the book was published. Her poem is the opening of the cookbook entitled,"Serving With Love".

This is my favorite cookbook of all times, partly because it has cool recipes for things one does not have access to in the jungle, using things available in Venezuela. I also like this poem because it is a window into the day of an average missionary wife. In many ways it is much like any mother's day and yet different.

Missionary Mother's Dilema
by Pam Griffis

The very first thing in the morning
I plan my schedule for the day.
I think I've got it all worked out,
In my neatly organized way.

Devotions first;Then Aerobics! (Of course!)
"Breakfast?", Did my hubby say?
Quickly fed and swiftly dressed,
I send the little ones out to play.

"Oh, I forgot today is wash day!"
As the generator starts to run.
I rush to gather the dirty clothes
I must hurry and get them done.

Above the din of the washer,
Shouts the voice of my 4 yr. old son.
"Mom, J.J. has to go potty!"
"And he broke my favorite gun!"

I settle the fight and dry the tears,
The clothes are finally hung out.
As I sit to type the culture file,
There is yet another shout!

"Hun, Awelalu brought sweet potatoes!"
I try to hide a frowny pout.
I really enjoy my chat with her,
Knowing that is what it is all about!

Lunch time comes all to soon.
"Where's desert?", the clan wants to know.
I could pull my hair out one by one,
But I don't want my feelings to show.

Dishes to wash, then rest time;
I am feeling pretty low.
I sit down to study language,
And a windy rain starts to blow.

I run to rescue the clothes off the line,
The kids wake up from their nap,
"Did you bake cookies yet?, they ask me,
As they climb up on my lap.

An hour later, the cookies baked,
Clothes folded and put away.
A sigh of relief and a "Thank you, Lord,"
Is all I am able to say.

When supper is over, baths and dishes done,
And our family pauses to pray.
When my little ones say, "Thank you for Mom,"
My frustrations fade quickly away.

Tomorrow will surely be better,
And if not, God planned it that way.
He knows what I need for my growing.
I am only to "rest" and obey.

"Pam wrote this poem for our cookbook. She is now in the presence of the Lord. We will miss her so much, but her love and service for the Lord will forever be an example to us."


One recipe I used in the early years was the following;

Baby Wipes


2C. hot water
1-2 T. baby shampoo
2T. baby oil
1 roll paper towels

Remove cardboard from inside paper towels and cut entire roll in half. Mix water, shampoo, and oil and pour over paper towels. Store in an airtight container.

9 comments:

Brooke said...

Great poem, and handy recipe!

Julie's Jewels said...

I have never seen a recipe for baby wipes before. Thanks for sharing this with us.

Pam said...

The poem brought tears. Do you know what Pam died of so suddenly?

Jungle Mom said...

Pam,
While no one knows for sure, it seems to have been malaria complications.

Sarah Joy said...

Wow, so powerful! Thank you! What a precious testimony!

Rebecca said...

I loved the poem. Knowing that she has gone on it's sad and sweet and beautiful.

The Merry Widow said...

That is a great recipe! Sooooo practical, be good for when you are far away from an easy run to the store...

tmw

Brenda said...

That poem reminded me that interruptions are the tasks of missionary life. . so often we think we need to have tasks, in reality the interruptions are what we are here for.

groovyoldlady said...

I used those same baby wipes through 2 baby little baby butts. They're the BEST! It is, however, very important to use good papertowels or they get all weird.