Flashback to Cusco, Peru, Fall 2016. The semester I spent in Peru doing a mission internship was one of the most difficult seasons of my life.

In part, my time there was difficult because I felt alone. It was my first time traveling to another country without being part of a team of people. I connected with a team and made friends while I was there, but I wasn’t debriefing with them at the end of each day like I’ve done with teams in the past. I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew God was right there with me. But I still felt pretty lonely at the time.

It was also difficult because it was the longest time I spent apart from Seth once we started dating. I missed him so much it hurt. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the pangs of homesickness, but I’d never missed anyone quite like that before. I didn’t understand to cope with my feelings.

And finally, my time in Cusco was difficult because of the work I was doing. I was teaching English at a Christian school run by the church. Though I’d taught English before, this was different. It was no easy task. Students had little to no respect for their teachers. Support was limited.

Perhaps I can best explain what it was like teaching at the school by telling you this: in order to start my high school English class, I’d often have to go around the school and find the students first. Many of the older students would hide in bathrooms, hallways, and empty classrooms, and they wouldn’t bother coming to class unless you found them first.

One memory that still stands out ot me was the Spanish nickname I was given by some of the students, behind my back, and sometimes, to my face: Mrs. One Arm.

I tried not to let the nickname bother me. After all, there were other things the students said and did that were a whole lot worse and caused more problems in the classroom. And it wasn’t like I’d never had people call me names before.

I made a joke about my new name, and laughed about it with the other English teachers. Eventually, the students got over the fact that I have one arm and they stopped calling me Mrs. One Arm.

But looking back on Peru, I’d be lying if I said my teacher nickname never bothered me. I didn’t like being called Mrs. One Arm: not because the name in itself was the worst thing ever (I’m sure the students could’ve come up with worse), but because it defines me based on such a limited part of who I am.

I’m not defined by my absence of one arm, just like you’re not defined by whether or not you have all your limbs. I’m not defined by the way I look, or what I do for a living, or the place where I live.

In 1 John 3:1, John writes, “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.”

We are defined by the love of the Father! Each of us, when we accept Christ as our Savior and welcome his redemption into our lives, is defined as a child of God!

We are nothing less. We are not defined by anything less – because anything other than that would be less. A child of God is the highest honor you could ever attain, yet this is an offer at our fingertips.

So please, don’t call me Mrs. One Arm. If you don’t want to use my real name, call me what I really am. Call me by my identity.

I am a child of God.

And never forget… you are also His child, onederfully created in His image.

Love,
Becca