If all goes according to plan, I will be flying away from Scotland in two weeks and landing in the arms of my family. I haven’t seen them in nine years because Alan became too ill to travel.

Scotland is an altogether lovely and mysterious country, and the people here are warm, friendly, and wonderful. If the weather was not so grey, gloomy, dreich (wet and rainy), and cool to cold—the entire world would crowd into Scotland and ruin the scenic beauty.

God put me in Scotland for these past 15 years. I have no doubt of that. By every law of probability known to science, I should never have met Alan—much less married him and moved to Scotland. It was a God thing. I often wonder if I have accomplished what God sent me to do. I was here to hold Alan’s hand as he took his last earthly breath. I have met and made lovely friends that I will carry in my heart and prayers until I take my last earthly breath. And adventures? They color the pages of many of my 51 cozy mystery books, especially the ones set in Scotland like “The Moss Murders.”

But have I finished what God sent me to do?

I have helped teach Children’s Church at my church, a privilege and a blessing. I have fed birds, pet neighborhood dogs, rescued sea gulls and hedgehogs, and supported local businesses. I learned to drive on the wrong side of the road and passed my driving license exam on the first attempt. But have I done what God sent me to do?

I’ve done what my character Zara did in my most recent cozy mystery, “The Moss Murders.” Zara explained, “I studied 480 test questions so I could take the test for Indefinite Leave to Remain in the UK. Do you know what kind of things I had to learn, Cleve? I had to learn that the first British curry restaurant opened in London in 1810. I don’t even like curry. I had to learn the owner’s name—Hindoostane. What did I need to learn that for? The only way I could remember how to spell it was comparing it to voodoo, and then on the test—it was multiple choice. I felt cheated.”

I survived my first experience with roundabouts. I hit one going to Inverness and went around, and around, and around, and around—because I didn’t know how to get out of it. I climbed over a mountain and entered an enchanted forest where a ghost army of mushrooms guarded the path and the trees grew so close together that daylight never touched the ground to dry the muddy, slippery trail. I searched for the Loch Ness Monster. I learned a slew of Scottish words like blether, shogly, haver, muckle, peely-wally, stooshie, dreich…but have I accomplished what God sent me to do?

I ate two evening meals on the same day because I fixed dinner before going to have “tea” with a neighbor. I didn’t know that “tea” is the evening meal. Even dogs have their “tea” at night.

I have learned to recognize words that the Scots pronounce differently than my Americanism—words like garage and aluminum that I didn’t understand the first time I heard them. And “zed-e-b-r-a,” which is how zebra is spelled here.

But have I done what God sent me to do?

Last night when I was walking Savannah, a group of older teen girls stopped to pet her, as they have done for years. As they were leaving, two of them called out, “God bless you,” before I could.

Some might consider a new house a blessing. Or a new car. Or an unexpected deposit in their bank account. Or a gift of bling. I don’t need any of those material things. Hearing those girls call out “God bless you” filled my heart with joy and sent tears trailing down my face. In a small humble way, perhaps I have accomplished what God sent me to do.

“That you may tell it to the generation following. For this is God, our God forever and ever; He will be our guide even to death.” Psalm 48:14

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