It occurs to me that many of you don't really know who I am. You may have heard me speak and signed a list. Perhaps you figure I'm one step closer to crazy than most preachers. So it goes. Maybe when you hear my story you'll understand why.
I was raised in the home of a Southern Baptist preacher. Al and Peggy Cummins are some of the greatest people I've ever met. But they're not normal. Who do you know was willing to go to Africa and tell people about Jesus back in the 60's? Man! That's when it was REALLY Africa. I grew up in Kenya. We'd go to the beach and count five or six hundred elephants off the side of the road! We had to watch out for Giraffes crossing the highway. Few missionaries were willing to drive at night because of the wild life. And not all of them had four feet. Gangs of men with machetes were a real threat.
My elementary education was under the British school system. I had a Headmaster at my school, wore a uniform every day, and called my teacher "Madam". An African named Moses hit a big bell with a piece of wrought iron to signal the change of classes. It was a trip. The kids loved me because I talked like a Texan, which I was, born in Karnes City. Uranium capital of the Lone Star State.
My childhood was great. We had a beautiful house with year round flowers and gorgeous birds. We had two servants, Pius who worked for us inside the house, and Benson who was our yard man. I loved those guys like my own family. When you live overseas you become very attached to the other American missionaries. They were and are my family. I am much closer to my missionary "relatives" than I am to my own kin. It's not hard to figure out, I was around them much more. Missionary kids (MK's) are a very different breed of cat.
When people ask me where I'm from, I automatically say, "Kenya." That's where I spent my formative years. But most MK's will hesitate when you ask them where they're from. Everywhere and nowhere. I have lived my whole life in preparation for moving somewhere else. I've yet to live anywhere longer than five years. The half-decade I worked as a Field Producer and Chief Photographer for WTOC, the CBS affiliate in Savannah, Georgia. I was punched, shot at, nearly burned alive, and hung out of helicopters covering the news. In 5 years I won 9 Associated Press awards for Excellence in Journalism, including Best News Video, Best Documentary, and Best Feature. That and a dollar-fifty will get you a ride downtown on the bus.
Anyway, I went to Kilimany primary school and to Nairobi International School for Jr. High. I had kids from 17 different countries in my 8th grade class. I have been surrounded by different languages since I was eight years old. Do you know how you can tell if you have a "calling?" It's when you can't help doing it. No matter where I'm at, I am always looking for the person who sounds or looks different. I love accents, my favorite being African. We East African MK's call ourselves "Wogs," a derisive term which we use with endearment. I am a wog. And at the same an American. MK's are a mixed up bunch let me tell ya.
I like to think of us as "Strange, yet Beautiful."