I’ve been keeping a secret from my family these last few weeks.

Quite a big secret too. Or a little secret, I suppose. No, not that kind of little secret. The 22lb kind with a curly blonde mass of hair I can never keep combed for more than 16 seconds at a time.

My little secret lives in a tiny town on the coast of North Carolina, USA, but on Monday morning, he toddled unannounced into a small cafe in Penang, Malaysia. His grandpa sat with his back to us, eating a bagel with butter and jam at a table with one of his closest friends, and when my little guy showed up next to him, he glanced down at the tiny blonde head and stopped.

Then he glanced again. And again. It turned into a full on stare as his head bobbed closer and closer, trying to figure out why this little human who showed up next to him looked so much like his grandson who lived in the USA.

After many long seconds of confused staring, his countenance turned into one of shock and he leapt out of his chair. There was clapping and cheering and hugging and I’m pretty sure my dad was giggling in glee as he scooped up the little secret who had shown up out of nowhere and started trying to figure out what on earth we were doing there.

Yes, we finally planned the perfect surprise–an unannounced trip to Malaysia. My mother had been in on it, of course, as I couldn’t just show up in Malaysia for two months with nobody having prior knowledge, but the rest of my family was in the dark. Mom and I spent the weeks leading up to my trip in collusion, complete with secret text conversations, middle of the night phone calls from London, and lots of practice with our poker faces.

Dad told me later that he thought the owner of the cafe had brought over a little boy about his grandson’s age to try to make him feel better about missing him. When he looked down, he only saw the top of a tiny head and couldn’t believe how similar he looked to my son. Then he saw his face and he’s not entirely sure what happened in his head after that or when he realized the little boy was indeed his grandson, but what he does remember is complete and utter confusion at how the tiny human just happened to look so similar to the messy little boy whose picture covers countertops and walls over here.

I had expected my dad to see my son and jump up in utter delight but his reaction was so, so much better.

For weeks, every time I have Skyped my parents, I have been bombarded with “have you bought your tickets yet?” and “when are you coming? Get those tickets!” and every time I have told Dad I’ve been busy, I haven’t had time to look, I’ll probably come at the end of August. He always looked at me in disappointment and my mom and I tried to keep the silly grins off our faces.

Living far away from family is tough–it’s one of the burdens of both military and missionary life. My parents work at an international school in Malaysia and my husband’s family are missionaries in Indonesia. When my in laws came to visit last month, my husband hadn’t seen them–his own parents–since his sister’s wedding two years prior. I am thankful my dad was able to make it to the US for a business trip in March and we spent a week with my mom in Salt Lake City just last month, but my siblings hadn’t seen their nephew since he was two months old and most of his great grandparents live in England and have never even met him. It’s not as if Malaysia, or England, or Indonesia is just a hop away from North Carolina–it’s literally a 40 hour journey on multiple airlines that can cost thousands of dollars and takes endless planning, especially when done with a toddler alone.

That’s exactly what made showing up out of nowhere so flawless; nobody could have expected it, and after months apart from my parents and my husband leaving again and my oldest brother not being able to make it home from university for the summer, a 22lb crazy ball of surprise was perfect.

If you ever have the chance to pull off a surprise visit, do it. Nothing compares to the pure bliss on a grandparent’s face when his tiny BFF shows up next to him without any warning.

Was the trip alone with a toddler who only slept 6 out of 40 hours worth it? I have to be honest, I wasn’t sure while I was in the throes of it. More on that coming soon, because it’s a great story of harrowing bravery, endless exhaustion, and old men accusing me of starving my child (because why else would he be screaming bloody murder? Couldn’t have been that he was simply utterly wiped out from refusing to sleep.)

But then I saw the delight on the faces of the family members we haven’t seen in far too long and the answer to if it all was worth it became entirely obvious.

It was worth it a million times over.