When I was between my sophomore and junior years of college, I was happy to be able to participate in a summer missions project. Growing up as a Baptist kid in Southern Baptist churches, it was natural that I continued my denominational association in college.

Right across the street from the University of New Mexico campus to the west, at the corner of University and Martin Luther King in Albuquerque, was the Baptist Student Union- a place where Baptist kids could hang out right off campus between classes, or before school, or after school, to just study, or to socialize, or be involved in planned events.

Some people were heavily involved at the BSU, and some just used the place as a pit stop before or after the school day. School was my main job during my college years, so I was at the BSU quite a bit, and participated in activities and studies and campus outreaches and such as part of the core team for the middler years And every summer, BSU students had an opportunity to apply to serve in summer missions. It was a little like applying to study abroad, but instead you would go somewhere out of state and help in a church for 2 months or so, doing whatever they asked of you. You did Bible study, undoubtedly, so that was the study abroad part. Otherwise, you might help with a youth group for the summer, or manage Vacation Bible Schools, or do neighborhood evangelism, going house to house in a foreign land- or city, as the map would have it- and knocking on doors. You were like a Mormon, but less trained, and a little less aggressive, and perhaps a little less knowledgable. But you had heart, and you loved God, and you wanted to serve Him. And you did in whatever they asked that you do.

Often, though, the mission trips were hardly arduous, and as a guest in a sister church body in another state (or another country), the locals also wanted you to enjoy your time with them, and you were often adopted by a pastor in the church you served at, or by one of its fun families, ad you also got to be a tourist wherever you ended up at.

So being a summer missionary was not only a honor because you were selected by the state Baptist convention office to go somewhere and had much of your trip subsidized, but it was a lot of fun.

And so, in my case, I was super excited when I learned I was selected to be a summer missionary, because I learned I wasn’t just going out of state to serve, but out of the country.

I ended up being placed in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. And to my fortune, I also ended up beginning the summer in brief training in Calgary, Alberta, for a few days. And when I eventually went to Vancouver, I also ended up serving at one place every week with my partner, Monique from Tennessee, during the 10 weeks we were there, and so we ended up working in 7 or 8 churches that were spread out all around the city. One week, we were downtown proper, hanging with other college kids and playing volleyball on the beach in the evenings. Another week we helped with Vacation Bible School at another older church in Surrey. Another week we helped a pastor and his wife sort and shuffle materials for his small suburban church in Burnaby. Another week we were guests of a small church and its youth group and helped run a youth service in Richmond. And in the meantime, we had the chance to get out into the city in the areas we were staying at. At one residence we stayed at, our hosts delighted taking us out one afternoon for a tour about Vancouver Harbor on their boat. And in the last week, I stayed with the pastor of an Indian (the country) congregation ad helped do surveys and outreach in their church neighborhood. And we also ended up getting the requisite day pass to visit Victoria Island.

Our hosts everywhere we went made sure we had an opportunity to see the touristy things around the city- and for that kindness, I was super grateful.

You remember the people on these trips heavily, though, which oddly enough, is why I came to write this post.

While there, Henry Blackaby was Director of Missions for Southern Baptists in the district, and besides that, he was an evangelical luminary because of his recently published and wildly devoured book, “Experiencing God.” We got to meet him and his family one day at a picnic they hosted for us and other college kids there for the summer. And that was a special experience, because Henry was as real and humble and sincere as the voice in his writings.

I also remember the couple who took us out on the boat. They went out of their way to make sure we had fun while around them that week, and that boat trip was one of my highlights of that trip.

I also, at one point early in the trip, met Kevin- a quiet but hospitable guy near my age who worked a lot at the church we visited one week. I ended up spending a fair amount of time with him that week, including Canadian Independence Day with him at a cookout on July 1st. Kevin and I became great pen pals after that summer and corresponded regularly for two years or so, until college ended and we ended up going in different directions. I often wonder where Kevin is today, and with Facebook, I should be able to find him.

But the one person I thought of that made me write this whole long introduction was a young family we spent time with later in the summer. The husband and wife were a little older, and not recalling what they actually may have done for a living, I could swear they were both librarians. Educated, refined, and proper, they nonetheless laughed a lot and were effusively kind- in part because they had a little boy with flaming red hair who was immensely cute, and with big eyes always looked surprised at everything.

He also liked to make sloppy wet spitting noises at random times and then look around like someone just turned the lights on, and sometimes he would follow that shtick with a smile. He was random and beautiful and seemingly absent for moments in time and then experienced momentary re-entry like an astronaut discovering consciousness. And i was really fond of him.

And he is the whole reason I wrote about the Vancouver summer, because I have moments where I see him, making his explosion noise with his mouth, peering around as if he was thrown into a new room, looking stunned, and I completely understand him.

He was beautiful and a little detached and comical and seemingly always swimming for something familiar, but you could see a little struggle in him. He saw you, or did he? He does. But he’s still far away.

I got that.

He is now a man now somewhere, perhaps in Vancouver, running a bank, or in Burnaby, teaching school, now with a wife and kids of his own.

He was a wonderful kid.

And that was a wonderful summer.