I’M A MISSIONARY’S SUITCASE – Part 1 of 3
Samsonite, American Tourister
Or Jordache is the name,
Bought new or “one-owner” or yard sale;
It’s all the same.
Cause, just like mortals on this earth,
Where we’re headed decides our worth.
And I’ve value above my “race”;
I’m a missionary’s suitcase.
2
I’m a soft-sided navy
Or a color that used to be white,
Or I’m brown or gray with scars
That make me a grand sight.
The outside color doesn’t count,
I carry wealth beyond amount.
Who cares for a pretty face,
When you’re a missionary’s suitcase?
3
I’ve started out from Kansas City,
Phoenix [1] or Kalamazoo,
Left from ranches near Helena,
South of Denver too.
Parted from parents in New York,[2]
And at stations on the “South Fork.”
The privilege soon outweighs the place.
I’m a missionary’s suitcase. (to be continued)
– eab, Nov ‘91
[1] Only God knew in ’91 that Phillip and Heather would leave Phoenix for missions. He is so wise and good!
[2] And – only the Lord knew that Daryl and Laura would go to their second mission field from NYC. Oh, His knowledge.
Separate-Holy 