I kissed Jim and Luke and Ben goodbye in the airport lobby on Tuesday and watched as they passed in sock feet through security. Loaded down with GameBoys and books and snacks to see them through the journey, they were about to fly to Italy. I knew it would not be too long until I would join them there and we would begin our lives in our new place of service. I knew I would miss them, but I could not waste time feeling sorry for myself; I had big plans. I was on the way to visit a friend, and I was anxious to get on the road.

The bold black print on the yellow strip left of the elevator buttons stopped me short: “You are Here.”

“Well, of course I’m here,” I thought. “What does that matter? I’m going to Level 4 Short-Term Parking.”

To top it off, the “You are Here” did not correspond with any of the elevator buttons and Level names. According to the sign, I was suspended between two Levels!

And, then I thought, “They really know where I am today better than I do!” I realized how suspended-in-space I had been feeling. The process of getting our paperwork for permission to live in Italy had seemed to grow more complex by the hour for several weeks. Schedules for travel and moving our things had to be adjusted and readjusted. It seemed like no plans could be made to stick.

But, in front of that elevator, suspended somewhere between Ticketing and Baggage Claim, I had a moment to take stock of some things:

We needed a place to store furniture for the next five years: FBC Springfield graciously gave us space in their building. I needed a car to drive if ours sold early: I had offers for loaners coming out of my ears. Only two Italian realtors out of twelve answered our email about renting a house: (One wanted to sell us a house for $1.3 million; we didn’t buy it.) One offered us a rental that is just right for our needs. We both needed religious work visas in order to speed up our entry into Italy: The visa person decided to give them to us.

It is OK to live suspended-in-space when you know that God will supply all your needs. God controls even the wind that touches our faces in moments when we think we just can’t take the heat. I am here…and it does not matter whether “here” is Kettering, Ohio, or Noventa Padovana, Italy, or somewhere in between. What matters is that I realize that I am always before my Lord. My life is not about getting there, but about being faithful here, in the suspense and suspension of whatever space I occupy.

I got about 45 minutes up the highway before the cell phone rang. Jim said, “Can you come back and get us? There is bad weather in New York, and our flight has been cancelled. We are rescheduled for tomorrow’s flight.” I called my friend and told her I wouldn’t be at her house that evening. I turned around at the next exit and headed back to the airport.

“You are here,” I whispered to myself.

Still here for a while, your American Baptist missionaries to Italy,
Debbie (along with Jim, Luke and Ben) Kelsey

P.S. Jim and the boys arrived safely in Italy on Thursday and are jumping through hoops to be able to move into our rental next week. I hope to see many of you at the ABC-USA Biennial and will fly to Italy from Washington, D.C., leaving July 3. Our email address will remain the same, at least for now. We’ll get our mailing address to you next month. Please pray for us to be here well—wherever we are!