I always wanted to be a mom and, of course, pictured how I would raise my imperfectly perfect children.  Missions, however, were not on our radar.  I was in the throws of playdates and potty training when we first felt God calling us to go to the nations. 

Neither my husband nor I felt prepared or ready to take two small children abroad, so we began preparing as best we could stateside.  Eventually, that led us to Clarkston, where I excitedly immersed myself in ministry and motherhood.  My daughters missed their old friends but adapted well. They didn’t seem to mind some of the language barriers as they played and laughed with new friends.  It helped that we’d previously lived outside of town and every get together had to be scheduled and planned. Now, they were just steps away from the neighborhood playground and the throngs of kids that went there after school. It was easy to finish my work quickly in a doctor’s office as I assisted neighbors with the countless forms.  Most challenges revolved around the transition of a new baby and homeschooling. Still, balancing ministry and family seemed fairly easy and manageable. 

In the preparation season, I tried to create a picture of what our life would look like overseas. I thought it would be similar to that in Clarkston, but I pictured the kids excelling at language learning and seamlessly accepting the culture. That image was quickly shattered.

Our first Sunday overseas with the kids, I reviewed some of the conversational Arabic we’d practiced. I asked them later if they’d used any of it at the children’s church program. They excitedly told me no, all the kids there spoke English! Sigh. We’d intentionally not attended an international church, but most of the children there were at least bilingual since they learned English (and sometimes French) in school. 

The line between ministry and family was much more defined as well. We didn’t take our kids into the refugee camps with us so there was a shift in what our family life looked like. It wasn’t what I’d pictured as the ideal, and yet our children were thriving and transitioning well. 

The pandemic hit and with it, like many, came an unexpected return from overseas ministry. I pictured resuming life in Clarkston as before. However, middle school curriculum can’t be done on the fly in doctor’s offices and our girls began voicing their own thoughts and opinions.  While they did it respectfully, they expressed how much harder it is connecting to kids who don’t speak the same language and told me it wasn’t as easy as when they just played with dolls. I saw it and understood. This was not their job or responsibility. My picture of what life on the mission field should look like kept changing. Things that I thought I’d figured out no longer worked.  But then, isn’t that how it is for all moms?  What works for the first doesn’t seem to work for the second, etc… I think it can be applied to our own seasons as well. Our experiences change us. He changes us. 

Life on the field now doesn’t look anything like what I pictured 10 years ago. And yet, I’m seeing the way God is shaping our kids to be more like Him and that is what I’ve always hoped for. 

I think too often we get a picture in our heads of what life should look like if we’re walking in obedience to God. I’m starting to see that maybe instead of a picture, I’m compiling an album or collage instead. Each segment looks different and shows different aspects of faith and growth. And through it all, God is near.