I Love Missions

Thank you, Grandma

When I was in grade school in the mid-50s (yes, I’m that old), the company that produced filler paper bound the sheets with a four-inch wrapper that featured a movie star. The elementary-age craze was to collect all the photos and exchange them with friends.
My grandparents sold the paper in their general store so I could choose the photo I wanted. Although I knew nothing about celebrities or movies (that was not part of our Pentecostal culture), I was soon caught up in the activity.
Grandma thought it was useless – maybe even sinful. One afternoon, she told me that movie stars did not live by God’s rules. “These people should not be your heroes,” she said. “I don’t want you to pattern your life after them.” Then she handed me a small scrapbook. “I want you to see how many missionary prayer cards and autographs you can get in this book,” she added.
Over the next seven or so years – until I became a teenager, I was the first in line to speak with the missionary after a missions service. I sought them out when we attended camp meetings and listened intently to their messages. Each prayer card was carefully glued on the page next to the missionary’s signature, and the scrapbook became my highest treasure.
God touched my heart through the kindness of a host of missionaries who took time to fulfill a little girl’s request. Missionaries are my heroes today, and I’m still moved by their stories of God’s intervention in peoples’ lives.