Finally, on the last of four plane rides, after over thirty hours of sporadic naps during travel, our three-year-old slumped into a deep sleep. I would have rejoiced, except I knew we’d have to wake him up in less than an hour when we landed at our new home. Besides, who has time to rejoice when you’re holding a squirming six-month-old, praying that the pressure in her ears doesn’t bother her as much as last time?
Touch down. And my boy slept on. The plane stopped at our gate. And my boy slept on. We struggled to get our carry-ons out of the overhead compartments. And my boy slept on.
“I’ll just carry him off the plane,” my husband offered. But upon being scooped up, my boy woke up, and with him, a torrential outburst. Weeping and gnashing of teeth about describes it – the weeping on our part, the gnashing on the part of the other passengers.
My husband carried our out-of-his-mind-tired child all the way to baggage claim, and by that time, more than just tears had soaked his shirt. We found fresh clothing for both of them and eventually got our son calmed down.
I can’t imagine how long Dan and Cindy had been waiting for us, or the disheveled mess of a family that they saw, but their warm welcome suggested no hint of impatience or surprise. In fact, Cindy offered to take my infant daughter so I could comfort our son. We immediately felt seen and cared for by this couple, and a special friendship began.
We arrived at our rented house and found the kitchen pre-stocked with basic foods we recognized plus some tropical fruits we didn’t. Upstairs, a travel crib was set up for our baby, and beds with borrowed blankets were prepared for the rest of us. We slept that night in utter exhaustion but also deep gratitude for the warm hospitality we felt already from our new community.
Dan and Cindy told us about neighbors with young kids who wanted to take us out for lunch the next day, a fellow school-teacher who would bring us soup for dinner, and two other families who would have us over for a meal later in the week. We were given a car to borrow for a few days, helped with navigating the nearby market, and taken on several shopping trips.
We were undeniably welcomed, and it made all the difference in our transition into life in South East Asia as a young family. This welcome didn’t happen by accident, though. It was prearranged and thought-out. Our international school knew the importance of hospitality, especially when someone is new to the field, and they utilized co-workers, neighbors, and parents from the community to build an all-encompassing welcoming team.
Beyond the organizational structure, however, it was obvious that each person wanted to help us and get to know us. We weren’t a cog in a machine; we were family in Christ.
I know many of you did not have a welcoming committee. Maybe you were the first to your field or your team leader was on home assignment. Maybe your transition got lost in the ministry hustle and you had to hit the ground running, sink or swim. And if that was the case and you’re still working overseas, then all praise and glory to God.
For many people, though, whether or not they feel welcomed into a community is indicative of their longevity on the field. Humans were created to belong. So how can we, the stayers, prepare both physically and spiritually to offer hospitality to new missionaries?
Here are a few ideas you can use as a starting point, adapting them to your particular field and situation.
- Gather a hospitality team. Acknowledge that this isn’t a one-person job. In fact, the new missionary might click better with someone else, so aside from lightening your load, giving them relational options is a win. They’ll be able to pick up different ways of navigating their new culture and surroundings from a variety of people who each do life uniquely.
- Provide airport pickup. Sure, taxis are an option, but there’s something significant about being greeted at the airport by a teammate or neighbor who cares. Those first moments on the ground can be both exhilarating and daunting, but they should also be a place of connection.
- Take them to get a phone plan. I don’t need to tell you how useful these pocket monsters are. Help them set up their phone right away, and they can instantly contact you, call home, order food, get a ride, navigate the city, and translate their host language. Prioritize this and help them get it done.
- Provide food to eat right away. Whatever you can provide that will give them easy,, immediate food options will be a blessing. Contact them ahead of time to check on food sensitivities and have fun. Surprising someone with a stocked fridge is as good as filling your kid’s stocking for Christmas. The joy on their face is worth it!
- Offer help and recommendations for shopping. Do you remember the first time you tried to figure out not only where the nearest store was but also what in the world was in those huge white bags? Now, of course, you know it’s MSG, not sugar, but your new friend doesn’t know that yet. Accompany them on shopping trips to the grocery store, the local market, and the home goods store. You can grab a few of your own needed items while you’re there (plus show off your language skills).
- Welcome them into your home. Aside from the obvious piece of connecting at a deeper level than at a restaurant, allowing a new missionary into your home will provide inspiration for them on how to settle abroad. They’ll see that you’ve hung pictures on the wall and feel permission to do so themselves. They’ll ask where you got this, that, and the other thing, and they’ll leave feeling filled in more than just their belly.
- Give them emergency numbers. Print out a list they can hang on their fridge with both emergency responder numbers and local friends who are happy to help if they have car trouble or house issues. Who can be a translator for them if they need someone? Who is a trusted teen that could babysit for them? And, of course, make sure they have your number, too.
These ideas are relatively simple, but I’m not going to pretend they are easy. The difficulty in welcoming someone lies not so much in the heart of hospitality (I’m sure you already value this from your own experiences), but in the reality that once you welcome someone and invest in them, you start a relationship. You grow attached. And eventually, you’ll say goodbye.
You’ll find yourself on the opposite side of this cyclical expat life and have to work on releasing them well (or saying farewell yourself). And that cycle hurts. We know the grief of it all too well, don’t we?
But is it worth it?
Is it worth it to invest in a new relationship when, in all probability, you’ll have to say goodbye in a couple of years as one or the other of you leaves the field? You could also ask if it’s worth it to invest in local relationships when many of them will fizzle out without any obvious kingdom fruit. Or if it’s worth it to learn a new language, or uproot your family, or sell your home, or start a new ministry, or leave it all behind to follow “the call.”
Is any of it worth it? I don’t know–who am I to try to measure those things? But I do know that He is worth it. Jesus is worth it all. And although every new investment and every act of obedience is a risk, He is worth it. He wastes no worship, no tears, no pain. The outcome is in my Savior’s hands, not my own. That’s why we can keep putting ourselves out there in hospitality, trusting that He who is both the beginning and the end holds us in this messy middle of hellos and goodbyes.
As many of you welcome a new influx of teammates over the next month, I pray that you will open not only your schedules, but also your hearts to them. Remember your early, awkward days full of questions, and, mostly, remember that both you and the newbies belong to the one who is Faithful and True. His open arms are wide enough for all of us.
