Sunday Letters- Things That Make Me Brave

Generally our Sunday letters will be to one another, but today I’m rather inspired by some others. My family came to town last night which is almost as rare as my husband eating sushi. That is to say, it doesn’t happen very often. Neither activity is disliked by the participator, but unfortunately for me, they only come along every so often. We took the opportunity to visit the Dallas Gift Market (thanks, Mom!), eat dinner, and see True Grit. I must admit that this was mostly decided based on my dad’s pleas, but knowing that the only movie we’d ever seen as a family in theaters was Seabiscuit, I knew we needed to go.

The movie itself is pretty inspiring- I love the idea of being out on the open range, outlaws abounding, gun in tow. Maybe it’s because I’m from Oklahoma. But watching a 14 year old girl avenge her father’s death with a fierce heart and a sharp tongue? All the better.

As she sets out to find her father’s killer- against the will of the marshall and behind her mother’s back- she writes this letter to her mother:

Dearest Mother- I am about to embark on a great adventure. Or dare I call it a mission, lest any of us rest easy ere Papa’s death is avenged? My investigations in Fort Smith lead me to believe that Tom Chaney can be found and brought to justice, and I have made arrangements to that end. I will return to you once I have seen them properly carried through. But do not worry on my account. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. The author of all things watches over me. And I have a fine horse. Kiss little Frankie for me and pinch Violet’s cheek. I am off for the Choctaw Nation.

From here, greatness ensues and she is more brave than I would ever be unless I were fighting in hand-to-hand combat for my family or my God. Those things would make me instantly brave.

And a copy of a letter that has long been posted on my inspiration board at home:

Dear Pastor,
You should only be opening this letter in the event of my death. When God calls there are no regrets. I tried to share my heart with you as much as possible, my heart for the nations. I wasn’t called to a place; I was called to Him. To obey was my objective, to suffer was expected, His glory my reward, His glory my reward. The missionary heart cares more than some think is wise, risks more than some think is safe, dreams more than some think is practical, expects more than some think is possible. I was called not to comfort or to success but to obedience. There is no joy outside of knowing Jesus and serving him. I love you and my church family.

In His care,

-Karen Watson, 1973-2004, Mission worker killed by terrorists in Iraq

Yes, these things make me brave.