cool. And cool illnesses make people pray more. Note: ulcers aren’t cool. If you get an ulcer, don’t tell anyone.
Oh, and make sure your kids know how great all these new things are too. I was hanging out at an international high school once and overheard a kid say something about a student who was absent. He nonchalantly said, “Oh, he’s not here; he has an amoeba.” I wanted to grab the kid by the collar and say, “You know that’s not a normal sentence, right?”
9. You will have friends from countries you didn’t know existed
Faroe Islands? East Timor? Canada? Living abroad tends to add countries to the map. But consider yourself warned, living abroad also confuses things. For example, I’m no longer sure if a boot is a type of shoe or a part of a car. Is paste something with which you build a house or a sandwich? Is a biscuit breakfast food or dessert? And what about this thing called “a barbie?”
Your kids might be confused too. Our little girl loves the story of the “Ten Leopards.” You know, the one where Jesus healed ten leopards, but only one came back to say “thank you?” Thank you, you wonderful world of missions, for giving our whole family such a linguistic advantage and wide worldview. A worldview in which Jesus cares so much about jungle animals, he sometimes heals ten at a time.
8. Your driving skills will “improve”
Who knew you could survive so well without rearview mirrors, turn signals, or lanes? Who knew driving 20mph (or 32kph for those of you who don’t know how to measure stuff correctly) could be so exhilarating? And sometimes, cars on the mission field actually get younger, with fewer miles on them than when they were imported. How cool is that?
7. You’ll learn to be grateful for the little things, like cheese
Older missionaries in my part of the world remember when cheese came to town. Cheese and stop lights apparently arrived at the same time. So if you’re in a part of the world without cheese, extra points for you. And may I recommend you start praying for a stop light? (I was going to include bacon in this section, but then I remembered we were talking about “the little things.”)
6. Your bargaining skills will improve. . .with the police
The police don’t want to write you a ticket, and you don’t really want to pay a ticket. And everyone knows you didn’t really violate a law anyway. One time, a pot-bellied officer demanded beer money, so naturally I offered Twizzlers. He pondered for a second, then held up four fingers. I complied and drove off, chuckling as I watched him and three buddies chow down. Apparently, Twizzlers make mouths (and cops) happy.
5. You will learn how to complain in multiple languages
The ability to complain, out loud, in front of other people, without them knowing, is the gift of a lifetime. Just be sure to do a quick perimeter check for possible same-language listeners within earshot.
A hotel worker didn’t do a proper perimeter check once, and I clearly heard him complaining about some rude tourists, “Sure, why don’t they just go sunbathe by the pool. I hope a massive rock falls off the building and smashes their heads.” I made a mental note to self: speak extra nice to that employee. And get a cabana with a roof.
4. You’ll always be able to use the excuse, “I’m not from around here”
When you need to explain why you wear clothes, or why you don’t really care much for fried spiders or bony duck embryos, simply state: “I’m not from around here.”
Really though, and I think we all know it already, this one’s most useful during furlough. Can’t figure out the ATM? Or the drive-through? Or Wal-Mart? Just smile, mumble something in another language about massive rocks smashing things, and say “I’m not from around here.” But don’t forget your perimeter check.
3. Fashion rules will no longer apply
You ever seen a missionary? Yeah.
2. You’ll get to report to hundreds of people, every month, details about your work, your family, and how you spend your money
Who needs Dave Ramsey when you have the entire deacon board of multiple churches analyzing your finances? It’s accountability on huge quantities of steroids.
They may ask why you need so much, or why you have to pay for your kids’ education, or why you save for retirement, but at the end of the day, they are paying you to do this thing we call missions. It’s an honor to serve, even when the reports are due, the power’s out, it’s hot season, the spreadsheet’s rebelling, and you can’t figure out how to get that .docx into a .pdf into an html into a mobile-friendly, print-friendly, e-mail-friendly format. But hey, at least you don’t have to use envelopes.
1. You’ll get to experience the raw joy of crossing language barriers, cultural barriers, time zones, and comfort zones, simply to invite someone to follow Jesus
Maybe you preach the gospel straight up, street-corner style. Maybe you serve the sickest and the poorest, touching the folks no one else wants to touch. Maybe you teach English or a vocation, aiming to empower. Maybe you do a thousand things for economies or community health or justice. Whatever you do, there is one love that draws us all together and pushes us out the door. Every day.
His name is Jesus, and at the end of the day, he is worth it all.
When I Was a Trailing Spouse
by Elizabeth
“The Lord had said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.’” (Gen 12:1 NIV)
When my husband first told me, rather excitedly, that he wanted to apply with a mission agency to become a missionary in Cambodia, I did not in any way share his excitement. I had many mistaken ideas about missionary life—mistaken ideas that told me, “No! Never! Don’t go!”
Mistaken Ideas
I thought I was facing a permanent relocation, regardless of how miserable I might become–and I was convinced I would be quite miserable. I believed I would live in a hut somewhere in the jungle and spend my days lugging water for laundry and gathering firewood for cooking. Housework would so consume me that I wouldn’t have time to homeschool, and I would never see my husband again. I thought a missionary husband is never at home, but instead serves the needs of his community, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, for years on end.
I’m also some sort of unstable cross between a germophobe and a hypochondriac. This condition can lead to some rather interesting conversations about deadly infectious possibilities, and is especially virulent during pregnancy and childbirth. As a woman who had recently given birth, but who was also quite sure she wanted another baby, I didn’t take my husband’s missionary suggestion well.
My situation has a name: trailing spouse. The term can apply to spouses of missionaries, diplomats, members of the armed forces, and international businessmen or women. In my case, it meant that my husband had a strong call to missions, and I did not. I could not manufacture a call. Believe me. I tried.
I thought, however, that in order to be a good wife, I was required to go. I wanted to have the faith of Sarah, who followed her husband Abraham away from her homeland through the desert to a land they didn’t even know.
Trying to Be Sarah
So
