home assignment – A Life Overseas |

Holy Disorientation: Partnering with God as He Transforms Us through Cross-Cultural Transitions

Reflecting on over two decades of cross-cultural transitions as a mission worker has shown me that whilst my family and I can endure complex moves across cultures, we thrive most in the settled season that follows them. We are well-versed in the all-consuming planning and packing for a cross-cultural move, the stress and anxiety of leaving behind the familiar, the uprooting from established relationships and rhythms, the upheaval to our house and hearts, and the complex logistics of flights and arrivals — in addition to various other cross-cultural changes and events that are equally disruptive and disorienting.

Cross-cultural transitions mean living in the ambivalence of both grieving and celebrating, endings and beginnings, living in hope in the midst of chaos, and rebuilding whilst in a state of holy disorientation. We endure transitions as a necessary evil, longing for the routines and stability that come months, or even years, later as we finally make the new life and culture our home.

Writing with another cross-cultural transition on the horizon, I acknowledge that it is often only on the other end of the upheaval and disorientation of transition seasons that I notice that the Lord has been at work in me. It is in the chaos and disorientation of transition that I have drawn closest to him.

Reframing Transition as God’s Instrument for Christlikeness

Rather than viewing cross-cultural transitions merely as a burden or a tiring journey to navigate as quickly and smoothly as possible, let’s also recognise their potential as sanctifying seasons. The Lord often uses cross-cultural transitions to grow us and shape our character to be more like Jesus in our everyday lives. Through transitions we are ‘being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory’ (2 Corinthians 3:18). Instead of willing the transition to end as quickly and painlessly as possible, let us name and accept the season we are in and seek to encounter Christ in it.

This grating iron-sharpening-iron of transitions can be God’s instrument in forging us into Christ-shaped new creations. Like other suffering or difficulties, transition friction can serve to refine our characters. In stripping away our self-sufficiency, transitions give opportunity for us to grow in dependence on Christ and others. In seasons of transition we are often required to surrender our preferences, desires, and knowledge as we integrate into a new culture. They require an emptying of ourselves, humility, and a teachable heart, making us open to His work. In the vulnerability of our transition grief, as with other times of suffering, we can be drawn into dependency and closer intimacy with Christ.

Just as the Israelites grumbled against God in the desert—romanticising their time in Egypt and rejecting His daily provision—we often look back at the familiarity and stability of non-transition seasons through rose-tinted glasses. In our desperation to escape the upheaval and heat of times of transition, we miss the blessings of our current season. The forty-year wilderness journey was God’s instrument in preparing the community to trust in Him as they entered the Promised Land. As you navigate your current transition, what old habits, mindsets, or securities is God stripping away from you, and how are you learning to depend on His daily provision?

The Spirit is at work, moulding us throughout the transition journey; our role is to posture ourselves with a receptive heart, ready to collaborate with Him.

Posturing Ourselves to be Shaped by God during Transitions

Spiritual practices for cross-cultural transition are the intentional holy habits, or spiritual disciplines we adopt, as rhythms that orient us towards Christ. When we think about spiritual practices for cross-cultural workers, what often comes to mind are Bible reading, prayer, and church attendance. Some might include fasting, hospitality, evangelism, serving, lament and fellowship, although there are many more.

We can seek to co-operate with the Spirit’s work in us by practising these spiritual habits—and new ones. These habits have the added benefit of anchoring us in times of transition, offering routine and structure to a disorienting time of chaos. Their impact on our transition season, and beyond, as well as in sculpting our faith, depends on the spiritual exercises being practised regularly (daily, weekly, every time that…), intentionally, and consistently. Sometimes the encouragement and accountability of a church group, or a family member, can help us persevere.

I also want to suggest a few lesser-known spiritual practices for cross-cultural transition:

Examen: A daily prayer of reflection to look back, review the good and difficult of the day, and give thanks. In his book How to Pray: A Simple Guide for Normal People, Pete Greig suggests four steps to this prayer (with my clarifications added in brackets): Replay [review your day]; Rejoice [give thanks for its blessings]; Repent [confess sins and failings]; Reboot [learn from it as you step into tomorrow]. Writing these down in a journal, processing and looking for patterns over the transition season can reveal a lot about ourselves and help us to see God at work in the midst of the chaos of transition. Families and couples can also share the Examen together.

Another way to practise Examen is to ask the same questions of ourselves each day over the transition period, such as: Where was God at work today? What brought me closer to God today? Where or when did God seem distant? What can I thank God for today? Asking these questions of our todays helps us to know how and where to re-orient ourselves towards Christ in our tomorrows, whatever phase we are at in the transition.

Simplicity: When making decisions about what to pack, what to leave behind or gift to others, and the way we want to live, we can choose to live simply, perhaps below our means. This is not only as a way of identifying with local believers, reducing our environmental footprint, resisting consumerism, or for incarnational living—although these are all very important to consider—but also as a spiritual practice of limiting ourselves. This could mean living simply and travelling lightly, buying local rather than filling up more suitcases, being content with an uncluttered house and lifestyle, and limiting ourselves as a practice in abstinence and self-control.

Celebration: It is a choice to recognise, remember, and rejoice in the fullness of all that God has done. Throughout the Old Testament the Israelites were commanded to celebrate as an expression of their faith and a way of keeping community (Leviticus 23:4). Thanksgiving services, celebrating milestones, and leaving parties are all important throughout missionary life and especially in ending well. We might feel embarrassed to draw attention to ourselves or our own achievements publicly. However, the spiritual practice of celebration is about magnifying the God who sustained us and His work through us. Teams can even help keep track of important dates and arrange celebrations.

Finding a Spiritual Accompanier (Director): Meeting through a time of discernment ahead of a cross-cultural transition with a Christian trained to listen and help us pay attention to God’s presence, discern the Holy Spirit’s leading, and grow in intimacy with Christ. Cross-cultural transition can stir a ‘holy disorientation’ in us by dismantling long-held understandings of our faith and challenging cultural assumptions about ourselves and God, as well as our role in what He is doing in the world.

A Spiritual accompanier can help us reflect on a transition season by drawing out our responses to the following: When job titles, ministry successes, and cultural familiarity are stripped away, have I/am I truly placing my identity in Christ? Do I find my home and satisfaction in Christ, even when I am not in transition? Is my theology of suffering robust enough to sustain me when the initial excitement fades and grief, disorientation, and deep loneliness set in? While deeply disorienting, asking questions like these when reflecting on transition seasons forges Christlikeness in us by exposing our desire for self-reliance, revealing hidden weakness and sin, and leading us to see our need for absolute dependence on Christ.

By practicing holy habits, we choose to look for God amidst the chaos of transition, posturing our hearts to receive from Him. When we intentionally seek his presence in the disorientation, we are drawn closer to His heart and likeness — and transition transforms from a dreaded cross-cultural shift into a sanctifying season to sit with and grow from.

In Pursuit of Meaningful Memories During Home Assignment

As our family prepares to “cross the pond” for our next Home Ministry Assignment (HMA), we are experiencing all the familiar stress of transition: packing the house, packing the bags, saying goodbyes here, anticipating hellos there, and managing all the expectations on both sides of the world.

It’s a lot for a heart to hold, and a lot for the brain to process!

Amidst the necessary components of every HMA (such as speaking engagements, fundraising, attending meetings, etc.), we are also committed to prioritizing the pursuit of what is fun and memorable as a family, especially things that will help our children enjoy their passport culture as well as acclimate to a home country that is still somewhat foreign to them.

Our goal is to create meaningful memories during HMA: memories that are meaningful because they carry moments we treasure and/or because they help us navigate life in our passport culture.

During past HMAs, when our kids were younger, we pursued this goal in a variety of ways and discovered some amazing resources along the way which we plan to take advantage of again. This time around, as our kids are getting older, we’re also considering other priorities in addition to the familiar opportunities we’ve enjoyed in the past.

Here are five types of memory-making activities we’ll be pursuing—perhaps they’ll be helpful to you also as you plan your next home assignment.

1. Museums and Zoos

In the past we’ve made an effort to visit museums—art museums, science museums, natural history museums—for the sake of enjoying ourselves and learning at places we have little access to in our country of service. We learned that some museums are free while others have free days here and there, which requires some scheduling on our part but which makes it easier on the pocketbook for taking advantage of such offers.

During past HMAs we’ve also discovered that many museums and zoos are part of consortiums that offer free entrance or discounts at other institutions if you have a membership at one. It’s always worth asking what they offer. One year we bought a membership at a local children’s museum and discovered we had free access to several other institutions across the country because of it, which made for extra fun as we took advantage of the free access while traveling in between visits to churches and supporters. We fully intend to see what options are available to us this time around, too.

2. Public Libraries

Another vital resource has been the public library. Not only do we make regular visits to the library for the masses of free books at our disposal, but we also take note of what else they make available. Most libraries organize and offer free events on location, but they also occasionally partner with other institutions to offer even more. For example, we have sometimes gotten free tickets to museums (not only on the aforementioned free days) because the library loaned tickets to local museums, similar to checking out a book. Every location will have different offerings, but it’s good to ask what’s available!

3. Nature Centers and National Parks

Nature centers are another perennial favorite for our family. As we are home basing in a different location for this HMA, we are prioritizing the exploration of new nature centers and reserves that can provide the outdoor escape we all need.

Perhaps my favorite discovery which has created impressionable family memories when we’re in America is the National Park System’s 4^th grader pass. Every Kid Outdoors offers families with a 4^th grader (or homeschool equivalent) free access to national parks. As the National Park Service website says, “Every Kid Outdoors allows U.S. fourth graders and family members free access to over 2,000 federal lands and waters so you can discover our wildlife, resources, and history.” It’s so simple. Our family has already taken advantage of this opportunity twice during previous HMAs and has saved money while enjoying national parks as we traveled in between ministry responsibilities.

4. Sports Games and Concerts

This HMA we plan to take our kids to a football game—an American football game, not soccer, which is the sport they know and understand best growing up in Africa. As Americans, however, we come from a culture that highly values football and we feel like our kids would not only enjoy but also benefit from knowing more about the sport. At the very least we want them to understand the basics of the game and be able to participate in watching football with family and friends in a meaningful way. And so, in addition to gathering around the television to watch some games during NFL season, this HMA we’ll take them to a football game or two.

We’re also planning to take our kids to their first concert, which will not only be a fun experience for them but will also foster an ability for them to connect with peers about such things. Our kids have phased out of the children’s museum stage of life and are fully into a season of sports, music, and movies. We’re aiming to create experiences that will help them track with peers in our passport culture so that, someday, they’ll be better equipped to live and socialize in our passport culture if God leads them there.

Some of these examples are specific to our American context, but I recommend researching what resources are available to you in whatever your passport country is.

5. Establishing Regular Rhythms

It’s worth considering what’s worth investing in for the sake of taking care of your children (and yourselves) during a home assignment. Regular rhythms are of equal, if not greater, importance to establishing lasting memories. Things as simple as taking my son out for hot chocolate at a favorite coffee shop can go a long way in deepening our family ties in the midst of everything else demanding our time and attention. Investing time in catching up on particular movies and music will allow all of us to have socially intelligent conversations with people on that side of the world.

We will face the expectations and responsibilities of HMA no matter what, but we can choose how to spend our time in between ministry engagements and hopefully create meaningful memories along the way.

Instead of viewing it as a project—because maintaining a foothold in our passport country admittedly requires some work—we are focusing on the fun that awaits and the increased family time during a season when our kids have fewer friends on this side of the world.

There is time to walk around a nature center. There is space to visit an art museum. There is room to watch a football game and experience the hype of being in a cheering crowd.

There are meaningful memories within grasp. Our priority is to seize them.

Photo by Jessica Rockowitz on Unsplash

Embracing New Chapters, Trusting the Same Author

Hidden under a canopy of outstretched branches, I pause for a moment to take in the view before me. Layers of green intermingle as they nestle the banks of a gurgling creek. The rhythm is steady and reassuring as the cool water rushes over smooth stones on its way downstream. This is the first moment I have felt a sense of calm flood my thoughts and body in a while.

This week, my husband is the missions speaker at a summer camp he attended as a child and worked at as a teenager. He’s taken us for a walk to see the wooden bridge he helped his grandfather build when he was a boy and has shared many memories of his time growing up here. Our own boys are attending as junior high campers, and it’s been a stark reminder that a lot has changed in our lives.

It’s been over five years since I’ve been able to travel back to Pennsylvania and the first time our family has traveled back together. Spending the majority of the past decade ministering in Northern Uganda and journeying through a lengthy adoption process is where most of our story has been lived. And now that we are back “home” on our first furlough, embracing this space of unsettledness has been very overwhelming at times.

I have known the Lord and experienced His faithfulness in the wilderness of waiting, but in this season of transition I’m learning to trust Him in new ways. So, while enjoying an unexpected moment of quiet, a quote by Aljean Anthony dances around my mind as the water ripples along its merry way: “He’s carried you this far, hasn’t He? Don’t you think He could carry you even further? Trust in Him.”

It’s as if it has been bookmarked in my thoughts, a reminder for moments when I feel the unsteadiness of this land in between. I wasn’t expecting such a chaotic re-entry after spending so many challenging years abroad. My bucket list did not include three unexpected trips to the emergency room or a mad search for medication to treat a tropical parasite that’s not available in the USA. Then there were two weeks of sickness that hit our whole family, travel plans derailed, and the celebration of homecoming delayed.

After all I’ve experienced living a life overseas, I should be more accustomed to life not going according to my plan, but here I am again, wondering why.

I can list every time the Lord faithfully provided and carried us in our waiting season just as the Lord provided for the Israelites in theirs. He led them through the wilderness with manna, quail, sandals that didn’t wear out, water spilling from rocks, a pillar of fire, and the covering of a cloud. Yet, the story of the Israelites crossing the Jordan River in Joshua 3:15-17 offers encouragement to me right now.

The crossing of the Jordan River represented the transition from wilderness into the Promised Land. I’ve watched the Lord dry up the rising floodwaters in our life and allow us to walk through to the other side. But that doesn’t mean the next season will be perfect to make up for the former one.

For the Israelites there would be more battles to overcome, with plenty of challenges awaiting and numerous adjustments made for a new lifestyle — for their dependence on the Lord still needed to deepen. Yet even though the manna stopped falling as the Israelites entered a new land, the Lord’s presence, guidance, comfort, provision, and love never did. It just looked different.

The Lord promises to continue the journey with us, just as He declared to the Israelites in Isaiah 43:2, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze” (ESV).

Maybe you are walking through your own Jordan River or standing at the edge of your “Promised Land” — whether it’s preparing move to a new country, transitioning back “home,” experiencing a big life change, celebrating ministry goals met, overcoming obstacles, or straddling a new wilderness of uncertainty. God’s presence is steadfast even when we waver in the challenges that come our way.

On the fourth morning of summer camp, we awake to a thick layer of smoke hiding everything, the blue skies overcome with heavy haze from fires burning elsewhere. It’s another reminder that while we may not know what’s coming or can’t see through the unknown, the Lord remains the unchanged, and the story He is writing is a good one. I can have peace as I enter this new chapter because I know the author.

Recently, I’ve been leafing through the stack of journals I’ve lugged back across the ocean. These journals hold the struggle, the worries, the laments, the prayers, the joys, and the praises over the past number of years. But mostly they declare the Lord’s faithfulness in my life. They serve as a reminder of how the Lord has provided in seasons of hardship and struggle.

How He restores what has been lost.

How He revives what is hopeless.

How He redeems what is broken.

How He rewrites our pain into His promise of an abundant life.

God’s glory is in the gold lettering of our story, chapter by chapter. And oh, how He has written and woven such a testimony of His goodness and grace into our lives. His purpose was penned long before I was born, and when I don’t understand or when all seems lost, still I believe that the Author of Life is at work redeeming my story and yours.

In each and every delay.

In each and every disappointment.

In each and every heartache.

The battle may be great, but God is far greater. All these years of wild words planted, hopes deferred, dreams surrendered, and in the promises restored, the Lord is faithful. I’m slowly beginning to make peace with the understanding that I may not feel as rooted during the next few months as I had hoped.

But in acknowledging that, I know that I am rooting deeper in the One who steadies my heart when everything seems unsteady. I am tethered to an anchor far more secure than any house, or person, or thing that brings comfort. He has indeed carried me this far, and He will surely carry me further.

Ready or Not, Here We Come: Our First Furlough After 10 Years

Black bins with yellow lids are beginning to fill the empty spaces in our house and a six-week countdown of little airplanes is now displayed on the fridge. I’ve got a stack of homeschooling books piled on the floor and a notebook full of lists started (an attempt to organize my brain a little more).

Some of our better-looking clothes have already been packed away, along with a few of our favorite games and a candle labeled Home, Sweet Home. Memory books with dust engrained over the years, favorite stuffed animals from earlier days, and my collection of words — poetry and prayers penned in the longest and hardest season of my life — are all carefully placed beside the bins, nestled against the wall.

We are currently planning our very first furlough back to North America. I have spent a total of nine weeks in North America over the past seven years. It’s recently dawned on me that we will arrive on the exact day we first arrived in Uganda back in 2016. We will celebrate ten years abroad by being welcomed back home to North America. A whole lot of life has been lived in the past decade, most of it in a very uncertain season for our family — with no end date, no return trips planned, or any idea of how the Lord would make a way.

It’s been a life lived dependent on the Lord in every area.

When circumstances crashed wildly and obliterated our expectations of serving abroad years ago, we were left with hands open in full surrender. But I can testify that the Lord has met me in this waiting place and even now as I’m trying to walk in a new space — transition.

It will be the first time we pack up the house to keep all the living things and dust from descending while we are away for nine months. It will be the first time to meet family members in person, the first time to experience playing with cousins, the first time to travel across the ocean with every member of our family, the first time to fully feel the relief of a challenging adoption journey, and the first break from an extended time serving abroad.

So, imagine what a gift it was to feel so understood in this new season of uncertainty. I couldn’t believe the timing of the conversation with a friend back home last week. It had been years since we had spoken in real time, and it was as if I was looking at a reflection of my own weary and joy-filled heart. Like we had been traveling parallel journeys unknowingly.

We chatted early into the morning my time (thank you eight-hour time difference!), but it was such a gift of God’s goodness to me and a reminder that He has gone before us even now.

For so long I have sought to discover the goodness found even in the hard, uncertain, and lengthy waiting place. Honestly, it has all caught me by surprise, with desperate prayers answered in recent months, absolute miracles paving the way, and a new season of celebration drawing us in.

I am so incredibly grateful, and I’m feeling the weight of what this life has been.

I feel as if I’m limping out of a war zone and shots are still being fired even now with the end in sight. I’ve never experienced being in transition like this before. My emotions are spilling over in tears of grief and joy and relief. My arms feel too weak to hold all this goodness and joy bubbling, and I could shout it from the mountain top of how faithful the Lord has been.

Even when things became really hard.
Even when chaos threatened to destroy our very hearts.
Even when saying no to corruption, knowing it would cost us time.
Even when choosing His way meant dying to what we wanted.

How gracious the Lord is to remind me that I have been securely held this entire time. By the hands who have helped us to take hold of our children, by financially covering us to keep serving others across the ocean, by cultivating a ministry that’s thriving, by the persistent prayers of those far away, and in all the ways the Lord has written His provision and His faithfulness into our testimony.

Even now, as I’m caught in the middle of feeling a whole lot of emotions.

The loss and the joy.
The celebration and the sorrow.
The overwhelm and the excitement.
The gratitude and the utter exhaustion.

Oh, the tears that have been falling as I struggle to find my footing in a new season of living in the AND.

Perhaps it’s the relief I am bound to feel as I’m embraced in a long-awaited hug, or meeting nieces and nephews for the first time, or the joy of seeing my children experience everything (and I mean everything) in North America for the first time. Maybe it’s the walks in parks with leaves changing colors, or knowing there are friends walking similar journeys back home, just traveling down different roads.

I’m learning to hold space for the whole story, because it’s not all glory and it’s not all pain. I have discovered there is a great deal of peace to be found in the wilderness seasons, but what about the grief I’m feeling in a season filled with so much joy? It’s a tender place of straddling the unknown of the “not yet” and the joyful celebration of “look what’s coming.”

In recent days, new immigration changes in our home country are implicating our already complicated life and we’ve just experienced the Lord move in an impossible situation that loomed before us. And He has made things even better than we could have imagined.

If you find yourself in at the threshold of a new season or you are feeling the tension of grief and joy, I pray this place of transition leads you to root even deeper in the Lord. Though the waves of uncertainty are trying to overturn us, though we may be tossed about by circumstances out of our control, He is in the boat with us saying, “Peace, be still.”

The words of Psalm 40:1-3 have been resounding in my heart lately:

I waited patiently for the Lord, and he turned to me and heard my cry for help. He brought me up from a desolate pit, out of the muddy clay, and set my feet on a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear, and they will trust in the Lord.

God is at work in even the smallest details, even as I celebrate with tears flowing like little rivers of healing, embrace gratitude and the grieving, and live in the in-between places of this incredibly complicated life. I have known Him in the wilderness of waiting and persistent aching. And with a grief that lingers while praises pour from my lips, my heart is incredibly overwhelmed with the goodness of God. I can testify to His faithfulness as He continues to gently lead me in the uncertainty and the celebrating.

The Life Cycle of a Home Assignment

by Rachel Hughes

Deputation, home assignment, furlough, visiting your passport country—whatever you call it—these trips are fraught with extremes of stress, joy, disappointment, encouragement, and all associated feelings. It’s a phenomenon unique to the missionary life cycle that significantly impacts our life journey.

During our almost fourteen years of missionary life, our family has completed six “home assignments,” and I’ve recognised some common stages, each with pitfalls and joys. Whether your experiences are similar or not, if you have mixed feelings about travelling to your passport country and engaging with supporters there, know that you’re not alone!

Looming in the Distant Future

The first stage is characterised by emotional discussions while searching for dates that suit each family member, our ministry partners here and there, our mission organisation, and our extended family over there. But the perfect time does not exist!

We face impossible decisions like dates that suit supporting churches but leave our kids missing out on major life milestones or that meet the needs of ministry on location but miss major extended-family events. Whatever we decide, it’s never ideal, and someone is disappointed.

The Now-But-Not-Yet Fog

In everyday life here in Japan we’re usually running at capacity, but as the time comes closer, details for there need to be planned. Deputation schedules, conferences, meetings, living arrangements, medical appointments, family events, school enrolments, car loans, and the list goes on.

For example, here I’m taking the kids to soccer, chatting with other mums, but the back of my mind whirrs away: How to keep fit over there? Can a soccer ball go in checked luggage? Can we borrow bikes? Would bikes fit in the car? What car? Oh, I have to text that person about that car. Oh no! Did I just agree to cook church lunch here this Sunday? Oh dear! Focus, here, now!

It’s hard to focus when half your brain is fixating on problems of another time and place. This stage is exhausting!

The Work-Not-Pleasure Planning Stage

Another difficulty in the detailed planning stage is the endless potential for disappointing the extended family. The fact that we’re coming for work can be hard to explain.

If we arrange to stay with one family member while in town visiting a supporting church, we have to apologise because—after scheduling all the home groups, youth groups, and other events—we have time for just one dinner with them. So, they’re upset we’re coming to stay but “they’ll hardly see us.” Meanwhile, other family members assume we’ll spend all that time with the other family and feel overlooked.

Weeks before we’ve even set foot in the country, we’ve already managed to offend a significant number of our extended family!

The Day

The travel day finally arrives. We survive the horrors of getting to the airport, get our luggage underweight (doing the last-minute shuffle between bags), survive security (losing a child’s beloved water bottle that somehow, after all our checking, still had water in it!), navigate immigration, (finding working, non-sticky pens for endless forms while a clinging child whines that they’re thirsty), get to our gate, then finally sit on the plane and catch our breath.

Then there’s transfers. More luggage to cart, more overtired, stressed-out kids to urge quickly through airports, more paperwork, more lines, more security—me spread-eagled in the machine, my husband in his socks, hitching up his trousers (the clingy child attached to his leg), repacking bags while searching for shoes and belt.

Eventually, we walk out into the bright light of our destination. The air smells familiar. The birds sound natsukashii. A car stops at the pedestrian crossing, and we bow instinctively, blush, and hurry across. We have arrived.

The Supermarket Readjustment (and other reverse culture shocks)

Very soon, we visit the shops for everyday items. There’s always some new shock, often what people are wearing (or not!). I remember thinking, “Oh, I can see that man’s feet!” and quickly averting my eyes, only to see another man in flip-flops, then realising with horror that the entire shop was filled with men’s hairy feet! Another time my son stopped, mid-aisle, threw his arms out wide towards an entire shelf of ketchup and tomato sauces and loudly exclaimed, “Tomato sauce! What would you like?! Red, red, or red!”

I’m often unable to make decisions and come out with a strange variety of items, mostly not what’s needed. I’m shocked by prices, bamboozled by variety, and invariably come away with fresh cinnamon donuts.

Getting Down to Business

By this stage, we have remembered how to function, are basically set up, and can start visiting the mission’s home office, supporting churches, and groups. We travel widely, but perhaps even if you stay in one place, you might also experience some of these common events of regular home assignment weeks.

“Tuesday night meltdowns” where family members take turns (hopefully) deciding they’ve had enough. The “When can we go home?” misunderstanding where a child asks to go home, we answer “Soon,” but they break down crying, “No, not that home, home-home,” and we have to explain it will be a few months yet. This last one is exacerbated when it takes place at your mother’s house, and Grandma realises her grandchild doesn’t think of this country as home.

Then there’s the argument-in-the-car-on-the-way-to-church combined with entering-the-church-to-be-confronted-with-a-larger-than-life-sized-poster-of-yourselves. For us, this argument often starts in the car with a child refusing to go to Sunday school, turns into a fight with one parent (despite our best efforts to be patient), who is then criticised by the other parent questioning whether that was the wisest thing to say under the circumstances, at which point the second child defends the first parent, the first child cries, and the parents fume while pulling into the car park.

We all get out of the car, promise whatever bribes will get our kids to cooperate and keep us sane for the next two hours, plaster on our best smiles and enter the lobby to be confronted with a picture-perfect poster of ourselves on the wall. Oh, the irony!

Another occurrence is the “sudden memory dysfunction.” After a few weeks of taking our show on the road, I experience a heart-pounding moment in the middle of a talk where I can’t remember if I’ve said the next point today or if that was at the other church last week. I panic, mouth open, hesitate, take a breath, then from the front row, my son’s little voice pipes up, reciting the next line.

But then I’m reminded of the joys of being on the road as a family. Our regular schedule in Japan has us all off in different directions, but for home assignment time, we get to be together. And my husband and I do enjoy working as a team, formulating presentations and considering how to communicate the nuances of ministry in Japan to an Australian audience. We make some awesome family memories.

The “How’s Your Host Country?” Degeneration

In after-church conversations, we hope for scintillating exchanges with supporters, comparing analyses of Australian and Japanese cultures and sharing strategies for gospel ministry that best meets society’s felt needs. But often we find ourselves talking to visitors or being shown photos of someone’s ski trip to Hokkaido or hearing about the stress of renovating a second bathroom and laundry room (clearly, the irony that no one in Japan has a second bathroom or a laundry room is lost!). Eventually, we descend into that classic conversation:

“How’s Japan?”

“It’s good.”

But then there’s always a couple of people who are clued in. “I don’t want to take too much of your time, but just wanted to ask, how is that little girl and her mum going? The ones from your music class who came to the church event last summer. I’ve been praying for them and would love to hear if you’ve seen them again?”

Or “How are you going with that university campus group that was down to just one member? I’ve been praying you’ll find more Christians on campus.” And we realise that though we’ve never met in person, they’ve been reading our newsletters and praying more faithfully for little Miki-chan and the campus ministry than we have! And this person thinks what we’re doing is valuable and important for God’s kingdom.

Our hearts are filled. We’re reminded to pray for Miki-chan, her mum, and that lone Christian on campus. We look forward to catching up with them all when we go back. We are encouraged!

The Finance Frazzle

Something I find very confusing and unpredictable about this stage is finance. Firstly, seeking financial support can be erratic. Some churches give massive amounts with very little prompting, while other churches give less than what it costs us to visit them.

Secondly, our personal finances are stretched. People often want to meet at a café, and prices add up. But without our own home, we can’t invite people over, and with no fridge to store leftovers, even our daily food budget becomes expensive. Then randomly, (often older) folk press money into my hand as they shake goodbye, saying, “This is just a little something for you to enjoy.” Such generosity fills my heart.

Travelling can leave us financially vulnerable. But it also gives us opportunity to experience the generosity of God’s family. Cars to borrow, houses to house-sit, offers of babysitting, dinner vouchers, a trip to the zoo, a youth group outing paid for. Over the years, we’ve received incredibly thoughtful gifts that remind us of God’s generosity through his people.

The Friendship Confusion

In between all the official visits, we’re helping our kids to continue with schooling, to maintain relationships with old friends they hope to return to, and to navigate new friendships which they know they’ll leave (so may not want to invest in, but feel really left out when they’re not included like not being invited to a birthday party). It’s a lot for young hearts to handle.

And it’s not only kids who struggle with friendships. I’m often grieved that some who were very close friends before we left have moved on and seem to have forgotten that we were close. But with a few good friends, we pick up where we left off as if no time has passed. And then there is the joy of new friends who show genuine care and interest.

The End-blur Stage

The last few weeks are often a blur of last-minute coffee catch-ups, tying up medical things, office meetings to plan our next few years, a few years’ worth of underwear and shoe shopping, and trying to get to the beach one last time. Then there is the packing, weighing, reorganising of paperwork, and plans to get to the airport.

After a restless night, filled with dreams of lugging kids and suitcases through unending corridors of unknown airports, we have another one of those airport-days. Finally, we walk out of the airport at the other end and breathe that familiar smell of “home.” Ah, the joy of sleeping in our own bed! We are exhausted! In the next few days, we gradually return to our usual schedule and greetings of “How was your holiday?”

I find the whole experience overwhelming—socially, emotionally, spiritually, even physically. The pitfalls, disappointments, grief, and stress all take a toll. But it’s wonderful to meet people who partner with us, who encourage us and share our kingdom goals.

It’s reassuring that our family want to spend time with us because they love us. It’s refreshing to go to church in my heart language, to hear Biblical preaching, and sing heartfelt praise in lively churches with thriving kids and youth ministries. It’s exciting to meet young adults with incisive questions considering a life of ministry and valuing our input.

The home assignment is an extremely stressful and demanding element in the cycle of missionary life but also a source of great joy, encouragement, and evidence of God’s blessing on our lives.

Originally appeared in the Spring 2025 edition of Japan Harvest Magazine (https://japanharvest.org/). Reprinted with permission.

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Rachel Hughes has been serving in Japan with her husband and their two children for fourteen years. She is involved in a variety of ministries, including music and English classes, family outreach events, youth group, prayer events, and various conferences.

14 Ways to Make Furloughs Fun for Everyone

by Sara Simons

What if you could replace the dread of being gone for multiple months from the place you love, having to put on your most extroverted self, or feeling paralyzed by the thought of packing and re-packing with fond memories of being with people who love you in a context that was life-giving?

Although there is often an unending checklist of details to attend to, might I suggest starting with creating space to brainstorm and imagining what it would take to make this the furlough where you return with newfound energy and support, the way it was always intended?

What would it take to get there? And how can you be intentional towards this goal?

As you consider your plan and the destinations you will embark upon, here are a few creative thoughts, not just for families with kids, but for the tired overseas worker who wants to maximize and enjoy their furlough.

1. Create a furlough bucket list. As my kids used to say, “Our job was meetings,” so think outside the primary reason you’re there. Start by asking each individual (or yourself) what is one fun thing that he/she would like to do while you’re away. The sky’s the limit for now. This may take doing a little research of what there is to do in the areas you’re visiting, or it could be very simple things you already enjoy.

Brainstorm your list, narrow it down to three to five items, and then choose one solid and important selection per person. While not everyone may want to engage in this exercise or the chosen activity, some may feel inspired by sharing out loud the creative options of memories past or not yet formed – of wanting to go horseback riding, doing a park tour through each city, getting an autograph of every person you meet, or traveling through a beloved foreign city on the return trip.

One year when we were planning to be in nine cities in four states with our then two-year-old and six-year-old, we each chose one thing we wanted to do in those cities: try the ice cream, go for a walk, see the moon and constellations from the unique point of earth we were on. At that age the ideas were all free. You’ll be amazed at the ideas, not to mention the joy of conversing about the possibilities in preparation for your arrival.

2. Think creatively about setting. Where we meet people is not limited to a restaurant or cafe. We often suggest meeting at a park or beach or even a museum. A park is a much more casual and neutral space that requires less of everyone. For us as a family, this option allows us to play with our children and include them once again. Our kids have many positive memories of meeting people at the beach and parks, where otherwise they may have been bored out of their minds.

3. Engage in physical activities with friends and supporters. When we started planning our calendar with this in mind, the joy of furlough possibilities returned. We hated how we seemed to gain weight upon return. The idea of another sugar-laden coffee or heavy meal made my stomach hurt just thinking about it. However, the idea of a walk on the beach, a stroll through a new neighborhood, or a hike together with supporters felt much more energizing. Teach us to play paddle! It was so good for us, our children, and those we were meeting with. Walking and talking isn’t a new concept; sometimes it just takes a little more intentionality to consider time of day, ability to talk, and what is needed to maximize this time. This allowed for bonding and connection in a much more organic way as well.

4. Set up fun play dates with trusted family or friends when we can’t (or choose not to) bring our children to a meeting. People are always asking what we need, and this is a very practical way people can help – something they can offer on home assignment that they can’t give while we’re in our ministry context. Our kids remember the families that supported us with this quality time when their parents weren’t around. These elements of connection to our home country ignited delight in them for future returns, a gift we had hoped for.

5. Host a coffee shop “open house.” When we land in an area, we typically start with this as a priority. We will set up “office hours” for several hours at a local coffee shop and let everyone in the area know where we’ll be. We try to meet where people can drop in during a three- to four-hour window (late lunch hour is good at a self-serve cafe). This is a fun way to see lots of different people, as well have your worlds integrate a bit. This simultaneously takes some of the scheduling pressure off of you. As an introvert, this idea is much easier for me than packing a schedule back-to-back with individual meetings and once again getting in the car.

6. Think of creative games that can be played in a coffee shop, restaurant, bus, or airplane. When we are all together as a family, we try to avoid having both parents pulled into the same conversation so that one of us can solely attend to the children. One of our favorite games is “who can get the most waves.” Each player waves at strangers, trying to get waves (or smiles) in return, and then we tally the number of points. As an adult, this is one game you are certain to lose (although a suspiciously waving and smiling adult gets fun looks too – bonus points!). We have hilarious memories of sitting in the window of coffee shops around the world trying to make people laugh or smile or wave. It’s a day brightener for everyone, especially us.

7. Give your kids a list of things to find from their seat or window (scavenger hunt style). Let’s be honest, we sit way more than any of us benefit from, but we can still find a way to have fun, whether we’re in a restaurant, coffee shop, car, or airplane. Your scavenger list could include: person with glasses, child crying, strange hat, someone who looks like they’re having a good day, colored hair, best tattoo, and more. These can be made up on the spot by you or your children. Sure, this may only take 20-30 minutes in total, but it can also spur on interesting conversations about culture similarities and differences.

8. Enjoy the journey. Plan a side trip for wherever you end up. As global workers, one of the perks we’ve enjoyed as a family is the ability to make memories en route to our destination. A side trip is a trip within the greater trip, sometimes planned, sometimes spontaneous. Needing to go on furlough has afforded us stop-overs that turned into stay-overs at unique and amazing destinations. For the cost of transportation out of the airport and possibly one- or two-night’s stay, you can make incredible memories in beautiful destinations around the globe. This is surely a gift of being globally mobile.

9. Get out in nature by yourself. There isn’t a country on earth that God did not bless with some incredible and unique landscape. It may look like desert, or it may look like marsh, but nonetheless, getting out into nature and engaging in the unique ecosystems of the world is an incredible way to declutter your thoughts and connect with your creative brain. We try to set aside one day a week for this necessary outlet as a family and also as individual adults to get alone time. We have managed to make this a priority by taking turns and limiting our morning commitments.

10. Purposefully try the local food. From Louisiana creole to Minnesota hotdish, not every meal needs to be pizza or hamburgers (thinking US-based here). If people invite you over, ask what their favorite local dish is, and offer to join them in preparing it or to teach them a fun recipe you miss. You could say something like, “I’ve heard there are really delicious ____here. By any chance do you know how to make them?” Learning a new recipe and eating new food is both a memorable way of engaging with people as well as the culture.

11. Reciprocate and bring the cuisine from your country of service and teach others how to make it. Just keep it simple and make sure it’s not too exhausting of a task for you to make or carry unique ingredients for.

12. Go on a special jetlag date when you’re awake at 5:30 in the morning and no one else is awake (minus some crazy-early morning Americans!). My kids have way fonder memories of jetlag than I do. This might be one of the reasons.

13. Make a smash journal. I despise clutter, and I struggle with the amazingly well-intentioned outpouring of gifts to my children by my lovely US-based family. Once we had the idea as a family to “collect” memories along the way through a smash journal. It became our intentional down time together as a family (though not every night). We made space regularly to create little memory books in the form of a journal with everything imaginable stuck inside. Tickets, receipts, napkins, and flyers instantly became more valuable than toys. This was a delightful way for each person to have something tangible from their trip, personalize their experience, and remember their “highs and lows” from the trip using their own unique way of expressing it. It also minimized the need for extra storage or travel space on our return.

14. Take a picture of every bed you have slept in or car you drove or person you met with. This might sound strange or bizarre, but it’s memorable. (Taking pictures of dogs is another option that my kids loved!) For us, this cataloging is another memory-building exercise. Sometimes the pictures validate the wonder of exhaustion or serve as an understanding of your reason for chiropractic care. And sometimes they act as a memory trigger of the beautiful space that was created on our behalf. We have incredible memories of people who loved us well in ways we never asked for.

Getting kids involved in planning from the beginning can give furlough an incredible boost instead of it being a bore. Be creative and think outside the box. You’re sure to make incredible memories that only other global workers truly understand. But don’t feel like this is a checklist. Make it your own, and then be flexible and spontaneous, present to whomever the Father wants to put before you. Truly pray for this time to be the gift it was intended for.

Originally published at The Way Between and revised for reprint at A Life Overseas.

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Sara Simons and her family recently relocated back to the US after 11 years living and working abroad. She and her husband Jeff create resources and provide coaching for ministry leaders in major life transition and on sabbatical. You can learn more at thewaybetween.org.

The Emotional Progression of a Home Assignment

The last four weeks leading up to our first home assignment were chaotic. It was our first return to our passport country after three years. Our to-do list was 38 items strong, some items as simple as “pick up extra cat food” and some as complex as “find a car.” By the time we had said all of the final goodbyes and boarded our first flight, the relief was palpable. We were finally on our way, and what was done was done. (And perhaps more importantly, what wasn’t done wasn’t.)

Our first day outside of our ministry location was blissful. I distinctly remember feeling as free as bird – and being slightly disturbed for feeling so very free. What exactly were those weights lifted that resulted in such a weightless feeling? At the end of our first week, I had identified three key cultural stress areas that had clearly been affecting me more than I realized, and the idea of entering back into those specific difficulties was more than I could bear. And so began the tumultuous emotional journey of our first home assignment.

Emotional resolution #1: I don’t think we can ever return.

Over the next couple of months, my husband and I talked extensively through these cultural stress areas. We also debriefed with our member care friend and with other close friends around us. Questions of calling began to arise. Were we serving overseas because we thought it was the most meaningful way we could serve God? Were we basically deceiving ourselves with a works-based mentality of earning favor with God? And, wow, if any of this was deeply true, should we even be doing this kind of work?

Emotional resolution #2: I don’t know if I want to be a mission worker anymore.

The ambiguity of our future increased because our return was uncertain for reasons outside of our control. And that caused us to question even more. Maybe we were not supposed to be living in that ministry area. Maybe we were not supposed to be involved in mission work anymore. We considered career changes, country changes, all of the changes. Maybe we should not be in ministry, maybe we are not qualified for ministry.

I began to tire of the traveling life of home assignment and of the lack of personal space for our family. I missed our friends and coworkers in our ministry area. All of the questioning and traveling and evaluating and discerning took a heavy emotional toll. And all of this transpired in the middle of seeking to honestly share about our life and work in our ministry area at churches, with partners and friends. The desire for my own bed and my own kitchen and my own routine was deep and strong.

My emotional resolution #3: I’m ready to go home…wherever that is.

We continued sorting through questions of calling. What did we even believe about God’s call on our lives? We talked more about God’s sovereignty and our own selfishness in making decisions and how God works in spite of all that. We talked through what we felt we were gifted at and what we liked to do. We sorted through the many needs that faced us and tried to discern where best to focus our time and energy. We began to feel renewed and rested, spiritually and emotionally, and refreshed in our roles as parents, as spouses, as mission workers. We began to regain the smallest sense of passion for the work we had been doing.

Emotional resolution #4: I think maybe God has called us to this ministry area.

Where God leads, he also provides sustaining grace. Had I not experienced so very much of God’s good grace over the last three years? Had he not sustained our family so well despite stresses and hardships? Our understanding of God’s calling matured, and our desire to serve him in ministry was refreshed, not from a place of owing God or working for him, but rather from a place of surrender of our lives, of committing to be part of the bigger kingdom work. All work is God’s work, and our role is to be faithful with the work he has given, where he has given it to us.

Emotional resolution #5: I am ready and willing, Father; use me as you see fit.

With some level of excitement, we anticipated our return, less than a month away now. The ambiguity of our return remained, but we felt confident God would bring us back to this work.

As God would have it, we received visas and the green light to go ahead back to our ministry area in March 2020. We arrived three days before our country shut its borders, with Covid enveloping the world.

Our family has just returned to our ministry area after our second home assignment. We have now lived and worked in South Africa for over seven years, and there’s a sense of rootedness that comes with time and investment. Even still, I am grateful to have realized that there will always be an emotional progression on a home assignment. We will always need to do deep emotional work while away from our overseas home.

And while this second home assignment did not look exactly the same as our first home assignment, the stages were remarkably similar and had a sense of familiarity about them. Oh, I’ve been here before, my heart could say. In hope, I could look forward to God bringing my heart back around to willing service and obedience. And with gratitude, I can say that he did.

A Letter to My Sending Churches

To my dear Sending Churches,

We are coming to the end of our six-month furlough, and my heart is full. It is full of thanksgiving.

I am thankful for how you opened your homes and your lives to our family, loving us while we were here temporarily. Thank you for the boxes of winter clothes that awaited us when we arrived from the airport underdressed for the cold weather. Thank you for being willing to find us a car, research public school options ahead of time, and surprise us with food boxes at Christmastime.

Thank you for your love and support, which have spanned both the ocean and the years—your prayers, emails, and snail mail have been a lifeline for us. Thank you for welcoming our children into your Sunday school classrooms, embracing them with love and patience. We have experienced Christ’s love through you all.

Thank you for trying to understand our stories, for the times you asked open questions and let us try to find words to answer. Thank you for the invitations to meals, the conversations over tea, and the kite-flying birthday parties.

We are coming to the end of our furlough, and my heart is full. It is full of grief.

I grieve the painful conversations and moments of feeling judged as insufficient. Some questions reverberate in my head, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Comments like, “So what are you actually doing to fight poverty?” Or, “From your newsletters it sure seems like you focus more on communicating the gospel through deeds rather than the gospel in words.” And, “If your students do not become Christians, aren’t you just educating them for Satan?”

I want to answer graciously, lovingly, and patiently. I want to believe that you ask these questions out of love, that you still support us even if you do not understand our context or our methods. I want to try to help you understand.

But I am also exhausted. I am tired of being on a pedestal. Missionaries are not superheroes or magic-workers. We have no short cuts in solving the world’s problems. We are just trying to follow Christ, as we believe we are called to, in a different culture than you. We are figuring it out as we are going along, and surely messing up as we go—but we are trying. Please, believe that we are doing the best we can. We are on the same team—team Love Jesus.

When we share openly about our ministry, we’re not asking you to observe it with a magnifying glass, looking for errors. We’re not asking for a “grade” or a “rating.” We’re asking you to listen, to hear the pain as we share disappointments and heartbreaks on the field. We’re asking you to be patient, as we also are learning to be patient, and remember that we cannot force results. We’re asking you to be gentle with us, because we feel fragile as we prepare to cross the ocean again and re-enter all the painful realities of our other home.

Recently, a member care friend from our sending organization came to visit, and she brought two rubber duckies. A “yay duck” and a “yuck duck.” A pair-of-ducks. A paradox. We discussed the yays and yucks of life on the field and the challenge and invitation to hold them together. I am realizing that this pair-of-ducks is not only for when I am in Indonesia, but also true for all of life. And definitely true of furlough. There are beautiful memories and painful memories. And as I think of these last six months, I will try to hold this paradox with open hands.

Thank you for loving us. Thank you for sending us. And please, keep learning about the pair-of-ducks with us.

As our furlough comes to an end and we say our goodbyes, please do not forget us. Know that your letters, your emails, your WhatsApp messages, and your times of praying for us are very important. Even as the years continue to pass and our sending churches change, it is important to us to know that halfway around the world, you care.

With laughter and tears,
until we meet again,
Anita

Cross-Cultural Skiing

My family arrived in the States for a six-month furlough in December. We eagerly awaited the “winter” weather, as my two boys barely have any memories of snow. But the winter weather seemed unpredictable and disappointing.

One day, I was talking with my dad about cross-country skiing. He loves skiing and has a whole collection of skis in our basement that he can use whenever the weather in Virginia allows. My nine-year-old son piped up, “Are you going to go cross-cultural skiing?”

I laughed. Apparently, my son really is a TCK. He is more familiar with the term “cross-cultural” than he is with the term “cross-country.” So I explained to him what his grandpa was actually talking about.

But the term my son used has stayed with me. We are, indeed, cross-cultural skiing.

Before furlough, we talked as a family about what we were looking forward to: Christmas presents, snow, grandparents (in that order). We talked about what was scary: a new school, different foods, leaving friends behind (“Will my friends forget me?” my son asked). Months of thought, preparation, and planning went into getting on the airplane to leave Indonesia.

But each time we furlough, I am surprised at what I forgot to anticipate— for myself and for my children.

This time around, before even landing in America, I realized my sons were not used to dry weather. Airplanes have dry air, as do winter months. My children, however, are accustomed to the humid air of tropical Indonesia. Licking his lips, over and over again, my eldest son’s face became red and painful.

Don’t lick your lips! I explained. But he is from the tropics. This air is an unfamiliar dry. My youngest son’s skin also became dry and itchy. “I don’t want that slimy stuff,” he screams as I run after him with lotion.

How do we help our children when the air itself is different from what we are used to? How do we help our families navigate switching between cultures on this journey of cross-cultural skiing?

Some parts of this life are beautiful. My children are bilingual and can switch between languages with ease. “Hi, my name is Luke. I’m bilingual,” my seven-year-old son says when he introduces himself. But on furlough, we must work hard to make sure Indonesian is not forgotten. We scroll through Netflix movies and shows to find only what is available in Indonesian. We switch our bedtime story routine to reading in Bahasa Indonesian (we use the free app Let’s Read Asia to access hundreds of books).

Sometimes this feels like a sacrifice, as the public library has an abundance of books in English that I would love to read. But I remember returning to the field after the last furlough; it took over a year for our son to start speaking smoothly in Indonesian again. We are working harder this time to help him remember, to keep him from forgetting.

I love how my children view life in America with excitement and wonder. They see things with new eyes, helping me also to enjoy the small things: squirrels, cardinals, blue jays, and blossoming daffodils provide backyard entertainment.

Other parts of this life are brutal. All the goodbyes in Indonesia, not knowing what things will be like when we return six months from now. Will our children’s friends remember them? Will our boys remember their friends? Will the ministry we started run smoothly without us, or will some crisis arise, plunging them into turmoil? Will there be floods, fires, deaths, or even eviction for our teammates and friends living in the slum community where we normally make our home?

How do we embrace the comfort of life in America, while at the same time guard our hearts to return once again to the field? And how do we help our children do the same? How can we hold both the good and the hard together? How can we enjoy our time here and also prepare our children to return to where life seems a lot more difficult?

One morning in February, my boys looked out the window at six in the morning and started screaming: “It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” And, indeed, the ground was covered in about two inches of snow. They jumped up and down, shouting their excitement for everyone in the house to hear.

And as soon as it was light, we finally got to build a snowman and go sledding. My dad pulled out his cross-country skis and enjoyed skiing down the same small hill that we were sledding on.

On perhaps his fourth trip down the hill, my dad noticed there was a log hidden under some snow. He tried to avoid hitting the log but lost his balance and took a dramatic fall. A trip to the ER revealed that he had not broken anything, though he was in pain for a few days.

This life of traveling between cultures can feel like that too. The joy and fun of reconnecting with relatives and old friends, eating food we’ve been missing, or simply wearing clothing that we don’t get to wear on the field can suddenly be replaced by feelings of grief and fear. We can feel like we have lost our bearings and might fall flat on our face. Our lips get chapped and our skin gets dry. We suddenly feel like foreigners in our own passport country.

As we struggle along on our journeys of navigating cultures, may we have grace for ourselves and for those on the journey with us – our teammates, our spouses, our children. May we have the grace to get back up when we fall down. The grace to keep trying. The grace to take risks and continue to choose to invest in relationships, to choose to love, even though goodbyes are just around the corner. May we embrace the good and the hard of this life as we go cross-cultural skiing together.

Home Assignment Is _________?

by Kayle Hardrick

Home Assignment is winding down. We are turning our sights towards preparing to return to our host country and to our work there. We are trying to fit in all the last visits we haven’t had a chance to make yet and purchasing the things we had been wishing we had in Cambodia with us the last few years. We are slowly starting to look at weight and space for packing our suitcases. I keep thinking about what Home Assignment is like. How do I describe it?

It is like packing up your family over and over to see people you love and feeling like each visit is not long enough with those people. It feels like fun family times in a car and new experiences because of generous friends and supporters—like driving an RV. It is getting to do things you never thought you’d get to do and being reminded of all the things you would be doing if you lived in your passport country. It is missing your host country and the things happening there while you are away. It is feeling at home in many homes because the people in each home love you like family.

It is buying groceries in many different grocery stores and cooking in a dozen kitchens. It is doing laundry in all kinds of washing machines and sleeping in so many beds of various sizes. It is hauling exhausted children to nine different states and being so proud of them for making friends, enjoying time with extended family, and having relatively wonderful attitudes throughout it all. It is meeting people you have never met in person and being so thankful they have lived this life and for the grace they have with your kids. They understand when your kids just can’t have the manners they should have that evening.

It is watching your kids feel safe and secure because they see and understand the vastness of the family of God. It is your daughter making friends in Sunday School at every different church you attend and opening up her world and her new friend’s world to more. Home Assignment is visiting so many different churches because people you love have found a community they love there, and you want to see it and engage with it. It is having conversations with your kids about all the different church traditions you have gotten to experience over your time.

Home Assignment is lots of coffee, trying old and new foods, and bonding with others. Home Assignment is encouraging others in their lives here in our passport country and being encouraged by them for our work in our host country. Home Assignment is lots of extended family time that you wish would last forever. It is finding a church you can just be in, rest, and enjoy. Home Assignment is being encouraged by the home office because you see more of the big picture within your organization. Home Assignment is far too long and far too short all at the same time.

Originally shared in a newsletter.

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Kayle and her husband Chris serve with Engineering Ministries International in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, where they have lived for nearly six years. In addition to homeschooling their three kids, Kayle helps with onboarding and language learning at the EMI office, serves on the board of a small NGO-run school in town, and facilitates continuing education courses for cross-cultural workers around the world through Grow2Serve. She loves swimming, hiking, being outside even in the Cambodian heat, and spending time with people.

Which of these 3 barriers are tripping you up?

In his book Upstream, Dan Heath explores how to solve problems before they happen. Basically, when you are upstream you have different—better—options than you do downstream. Downstream you are forced to react to situations, whereas upstream you can anticipate and, in some cases, mitigate problems.

Many organizations have “home assignment” or “furlough” policies. About a year ago at Global Trellis I asked the question, what would an upstream approach to home assignments, furloughs, or sabbaticals look like? Is an upstream approach possible for a sabbatical? Or a life in ministry? It is.

However, according to Heath, three barriers can get in the way of an upstream approach:

1. Problem Blindness — is the belief that negative outcomes are normal or inevitable. Phrases like “that’s just how it is” or to put a Christian spin on it, “that’s part of the call.” While it’s true that there is a cost to the call, too often we play that card without really thinking through if it is a cost or a result of problem blindness.

Sabbaticals are only for pastors or professors.

Home assignments aren’t really restful.

What a waste of my supporters’ money! I should be on the field.

2. A Lack of Ownership — occurs because many individuals or organizations are too overwhelmed or under resourced to move upstream. At Global Trellis, we want to be part of the solution and have pledged to be part of preparing you to function upstream when you can.

My organization doesn’t have a plan for my home assignment, they just said I have to take one.

Sabbaticals are only for research, so this doesn’t apply to me.

What will supporters think of me? What will I tell them I’m doing?

3. Tunneling — occurs when people are juggling a lot of problems, they give up trying to solve them all and adopt tunnel vision. A clue that you’re tunneling is when you feel a sense of scarcity. You might feel that you don’t have enough time, money, supporters, teammates, options, or even favor from God. Tunneling forces you into short-term thinking. As Dan Heath said, “In the tunnel, there’s only forward.”

You have no idea how many churches and supporters I need to visit.

I already feel strapped for time! I cannot add a course to guide me through my sabbatical on top of it all.

I have a whole year . . . what’s the rush?

The Sabbatical Journey Course was created with these three barriers in mind and is available twice a year. The doors to the course will open on September 9, 2021 and you can notified when the Sabbatical Journey Course is available here.

While we might experience problem blindness, God never does. God will use the time you have for your home assignment, furlough, or sabbatical. He sees you, and loves you.

Photo by Heidi Fin on Unsplash

How to Make Missionaries Cry: Ask Them How Their Vacation is Going

Imagine this scenario:

You get up at 5 am on a Sunday morning. You wake your groggy teenager, who protests loudly and grumpily enough to put everyone in the house in a bad mood. You rush around to get everyone out the door by 6 am so that you can make a two hour drive to arrive at church at 8. When you arrive, your five-year-old pitches a fit because he doesn’t remember this church and is scared to go to another new Sunday School. You hiss bribes and/or threats into his ear, because you are on display and need to make a good impression.

But you put on your happy face and start shaking hands with everyone in sight. You’ve visited this church before, so you remember a few names, but many more of them know you. You wrack your brain to recall names, jobs, children as 26 people greet you. You are ushered to the front row to be ready for your seven-minute presentation, which took you hours to tweak since you’ve never previously given one that is exactly seven minutes. After the service, you are taken to an adult fellowship class where you are asked to give a 35-minute presentation. During these presentations, you are expected to give a public account of how you spent your time and your money during the last three years.

After the service, a friendly face shakes your hand and asks you, “So, how is your vacation going?”

And you want to cry or howl or kick something.

Honestly, friends, this is one of the most demoralizing questions a missionary on home assignment ever gets. They know you mean well. You are probably thinking, You get to be away from the grind of ministry! You must be enjoying the advantages of home!

But what they hear is: Wow, you get a six month vacation every couple of years. Must be a pretty cushy life. And that’s discouraging. Because a home assignment is a far cry from a vacation.

This is what is important to know: Missionaries have two jobs. One job is the one you are familiar with–their cross-cultural ministry. The other job is to build and maintain the partnerships that keep them in that ministry.

Both jobs are incredibly important. A healthy missionary has a strong team of supporters behind them, and while overseas, maintaining those relationships is a part-time job. This looks like: Creating newsletters every month, sending out prayer requests weekly, maintaining a robust social media account, writing dozens of personalized thank you notes every year, answering supporters’ emails, buying gifts for supporters, and creating videos or filling out questionnaires, or joining in on Zoom calls. That’s on top of full-time ministry and navigating a cross-cultural life.

And when home assignment (or furlough, or deputation) rolls around, that’s when this second job kicks into their full-time job. Home assignment looks like: Speaking at a different church every Sunday, meetings every day, lots of phone calls and emails. Preparing presentations, because each church wants something different. Lots of time on the road traveling. Following partnership leads, initiating relationships, hosting dinners and dessert nights.

You won’t hear a lot of complaining. Missions must be a team effort by everyone in God’s Church, and missionaries feel incredibly privileged to be the ones that get sent out. Building those partnerships is vital and they are an incredible blessing that feeds the missionary’s soul.

But being on home assignment is a job, it is usually exhausting, and it is definitely not a vacation. In fact, many missionaries would say that coming stateside for home assignment is the part of their job that’s the hardest. Though it’s called “home assignment,” it doesn’t usually feel like home. The constant travel, feeling on display, and helping their kids navigate so much transition can be wearying. Missionaries often look forward to getting back to their lives overseas so that life won’t be so crazy! That means that when someone assumes they are on vacation, it’s disheartening.

So what should you say to a missionary on home assignment?

Hug them. Tell them something specific you enjoyed about their presentation. Mention something that stood out to you from one of their newsletters. Reassure them you are praying regularly for them. Ask them the non-spiritual questions.

And if you really want to make their day? How about, I hope you’re planning a vacation while you are on home assignment. Would you like to borrow our cabin for a few days?