During World War II, one of my grandpas patrolled the waters from Iceland to southern South America in the Navy. My grandmother once told me that the fruit of South America was what he would always talk about, even years later. Never hearing the stories from him myself, I always imagined his eyes wide and wistful as he described melons, berries and bananas alike, the size of his head, vibrant with color and so juicy his mouth still watered decades later.

Today, my dad leaves on a mission trip to go where no Rodgers has gone before: Brazil. He’ll be traveling with a group of men from our church and building a church as well as sharing Jesus with the men of the area who often believe that it’s best to leave all things religious to the women. This week I’m praying that God will walk with them, speak through them and move them, that they will be mirrors of our true, tenacious Jesus: mighty, strong and courageous.

He just left, but I already am itching to hear his stories and  to peer into his face to discover what, years from now, will turn his eyes wide and wistful. South America – from the Andes and Machu Pichu to Patagonia is a place we’ve discussed for years. And today, I can’t help but think that he’s going ahead to blaze the trail for the rest of us.

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Daddy, travel safe, love well and then come home with a mountain of stories. Love, C