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to uproot a family and stick them on a ship in the middle of the ocean.” The trip was an adventure for Heather, but she knew it must be harder for families.
    Barbara paused. “Actually, it was easier than I thought it would be. Four years ago, we lived in Atlanta. Bob was a partner in a large engineering firm. I was a teacher at a junior college. We had a gorgeous house, two cars, plenty of money in the bank. We were respected pillars of our church in the suburbs, and”—she paused—“we weren’t happy. On the surface, we had it all. But in our hearts, frustration.
    “The crowning blow came when our oldest, Todd, came home from school one day and announced that he wanted these sneakers that cost a hundred and fifty dollars. I told him no, and he pitched a fit. He was nine years old and ranting about sneakers that cost enough to feed a small country. That very night, Bob and I sat down and reevaluated our priorities.”
    Barbara dipped her sponge into the bucket and squeezed it out. “As timing would have it, that weekend missionaries came to our church and talked about their service aboard a Mercy Ship in the Caribbean. My husband and I looked at each other, and we knew what we wanted to do. We sold off most of our worldly possessions, and within nine months we were aboard this ship. It’s been almost a year now.”
    She straightened. “We’re the winners, you know. I’ve seen my kids become better for it. Without television every night, they read, they play with kids from many other countries, they’ve learned foreign languages. In short, they have an appreciation for life they never would have had back in Atlanta.
    “As for Bob and me, we don’t miss the rat race one bit. Some of our friends back home think we’re crazy, but who cares? I’ve shopped in ports of call from Europe to Africa. Bob’s helped build housing for some of the poorest countries in the world. We’ve traveled to the most interesting places. We love it. And you know what the Bible says.” She didn’t wait for Heather to answer. “It says that we must be doers of the Word, not only hearers.” She looked down at the smeared mess on the desk. “And I can assure you, dear, I’m a real doer today.”
    Heather thought about her parents, about their medical practice and their lifestyle. They still had social consciences and continued to perform plastic surgery for battered women and abused children. She was proud of them for that. “You know,” she said to Barbara, “I have some free time on Thursday afternoons. Why don’t I come help you?”
    “That’s kind of you, and much appreciated. You’re on.” Barbara stacked some books. “I know this lifestyle isn’t for everybody. And before making such changes a person must always count the cost.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Because we’re doing this, there are things our family won’t ever do. We’ve wondered how it will affect our kids when they become adults. Will they follow in our footsteps, or will they reject this kind of life?”
    Heather shook her head. “I never went anywhere like this when I was growing up, but my parents talked all the time about their service in the Peace Corps. It seemed so much more interesting to me than what my friends were doing—worrying about who liked who, and stuff like that. My sister, she’s different. I don’t think she’d ever do anything like this. Not enough creature comforts.”
    Heather caught herself and reddened. “Not that Amber isn’t terrific. She’d do anything for a friend. But this sort of thing, taking care of people she doesn’t know, well, it’s just not her.”
    Barbara gave Heather a sharp look, then said, “We’re not humanitarians, Heather. I’ve met many—United Nations workers, government relief workers. I know that the world has many good people who really care about serving their fellow man. But that’s not why we do it. We do it because we want to see the Gospel spread all over the world.”
    She