senders – A Life Overseas |

Suitcases, Sacrifices, and Sending Well (reflections from the author of the new book, For Those Who Send)

For Christmas during my senior year of high school, my parents bought me a set of luggage. I hadn’t asked for luggage, and honestly, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the gift. My parents were probably thinking I’d take the suitcases on vacations and trips that always included a return ticket back home. And for many years that was the case — until 2015 when I boarded a plane with my husband and three children that would take us to our new home abroad.

Although we didn’t understand then how appropriate their gift to me on December 25, 2001, was, I look back at that moment and think how grateful I am that, even then, my parents were preparing to send me well. We just had no idea how far.

The Christmas of my oldest daughter’s senior year of high school, we followed in my parents’ footsteps and gifted her a luggage set. This time, however, we knew exactly how far we would have to send her. The gift was given with tears and a somber understanding that we would soon be living oceans apart. A few months later she packed those bags, and the day after her high school graduation, with a one-way ticket in hand, flew solo across the globe.

Having experienced both being sent and being the sender, I can honestly say the latter was harder.

I knew it wasn’t easy for our families to watch us pack up our lives in our passport country and move to the other side of the world, but until I had to do it myself, I had no idea how painfully difficult it really is. Becoming a sender gave me a new realization of what our loved ones had experienced.

When my family first left home to move abroad, we had attended training, studied, and prepared for this new career and step of faith. When we landed in our host country for the first time, we had teammates waiting to welcome us and help us navigate the new country and culture. When we had hard moments, we had a prayer team that was faithfully lifting us up and bearing our burdens with us. While it was just the five of us who got on that plane with passports in hand, we never felt alone.

I can’t say the same for our loved ones who sent us.

There was no training course to prepare them for sending their loved ones overseas. There was no team or community to come alongside them with understanding and experience, ready to help them navigate this new way of being. When they had hard moments, there was no group of supporters waiting for prayer requests and updates in order to bear their burdens with them. And though they did have friends and family who cared and knew it was difficult for them, as senders they did not have the same support and resources as we did, the ones being sent.

My parents’ gift of a suitcase was a tangible expression of their permission for me to spread my wings and soar. When I bought the suitcase for my daughter, I was giving her the same thing. It’s a noble and beautiful and right thing to gift to our children. And yet, I’ve learned that giving them that permission will cost you dearly.

I’m grateful for what my experience of sending is teaching me, and how it’s given me a deeper understanding of what those who have sent us all these years have sacrificed. As I’ve learned about the cost of sending, I’ve recognized that there are very few resources for those who send that validate their grief, affirm their sacrifice, and celebrate their role that is vital to global kingdom work. Since I couldn’t find the book that I wanted to be able to gift to the senders in my life, I decided to write it.

I know that one book is not enough to encompass the many facets of being a sender, and it won’t dull the ache of the airport goodbyes and the miles between loved ones. What I do hope is that it will be a companion in the grief and a guide in the vital role of sending and praying for those we send. Whether the reader is a parent, child, family member, friend, supporter, pastor, or acquaintance of the one they are sending, I believe they will find comfort and confidence that sending matters — and that they matter.

My Christmas suitcase showed me the joy of going and the sacrifice of being sent. My daughter’s Christmas suitcase showed me the grief of sending and the sacrifice of being a sender. What I’ve learned through it all is that we cannot be sent without a sender, both roles are essential to the Great Commission, both are infinitely harder than we think, and both are worthy of compassion and care as we live out our callings — sent and sender — for the glory of God.

For Those Who Send: Prayers for Those With Loved Ones Serving Abroad provides senders with a practical and applicable tool for expressing the challenges, losses, and sacrifices that come with supporting those we love as they settle in far-away places. Parents, siblings, friends, supporters, and all those who love and send global workers will find these liturgies to be a source of encouragement, as well as a way to cultivate communion with Christ in the joy and sorrow of sending.

With prayers for topics such as saying goodbye, missing their presence, reading a newsletter, making a video call, giving sacrificially, and spending holidays apart, every sender will be reminded that their role matters and that their sacrifices are seen and cherished by the Father. Now available on Amazon in paperback and ebook.

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Heather is the creator of Liturgies for a Life Abroad, where she writes and publishes prayers for global sojourners. She and her family have made their home in the remote mountains of Southeast Asia since 2015. Heather co-authored Liturgies and Laments for the Sojourner, Volumes 1 & 2 and authored Crafting Liturgies for Life Abroad: A Guide to Processing Cross-Cultural Life Through Written Prayer. Her full author bio and other resources she has written can be found at www.liturgiesforalifeabroad.com

An Open Letter to Relatives of Workers in Conflict Zones

Dear parent or sibling of a loved one living in a conflict zone,

I see you. Oh how I see you. I see you grabbing your phone before you are even out of bed to see what happened overnight in the Middle East and find reassurances that your family there is okay. I see you wondering why they haven’t gotten on an airplane and come back “home” to safety. I see you texting them, asking them several times a week (several times a day maybe?) “How are you? How are the kids? What do you need?”

I know the many what ifs in your head. I know the plans you’ve made to get the house ready, “just in case.”

You are weary after the last three years of wars in the Middle East, especially. You said goodbye years ago and have kept saying goodbye every time your loved ones come on home assignment or you visit them. You miss your kids and grandkids, and this added component of instability (again!) feels like maybe a bit too much.

You are struggling to understand why your dear ones are making the decisions they are, decisions that may be putting them at risk. The government is even calling Westerners to leave the region — why are they not heeding that call?

A Little Reassurance

First I want to reassure you by saying that most organizations that send workers overseas are really well trained in how to handle security issues for their workers in country. Not only do they have really accurate intel on security, but many have trained their workers in how to assess risks and how to stay safe when they are overseas.

Most teams usually have contingency plans in place, with different levels of care depending on the nature of the threat. When war in a region breaks out, the safest thing isn’t always to run away and leave your home. There are many other things to consider, and usually workers on the ground are doing very heavy lifting of considering all those things with their spouses, children, teammates, leaders, and organizations.

In the United States’ case (and I am guessing this is true of other countries as well) the State Department has a “no double standard” policy that if their embassies and official U.S. personnel in a foreign country are in danger, and they are pulling them out of the country, they need to share with non-official U.S. citizens the potential threat. But when an embassy is attacked and personnel is evacuated, it doesn’t necessarily mean that every single Westerner needs to leave that region.

We may feel urgency when we hear that the State Department has issued a call for everyone to leave a conflict zone, but it doesn’t mean that if someone chooses to stay they are in immediate danger or that they are doing something foolish. The government is covering their bases, but each unit/family gets to decide what is best for their family and specific situation. For a team, there may be units that need to leave, and we bless that. And on that same team, there are others who will choose to stay, and we bless that too. Each unit needs to prayerfully seek the wisdom of the Lord for their specific lives.

Remember too, that your relatives are not tourists stuck in a foreign land. They likely speak the local language, know how to navigate their cities, and know which areas to avoid when there is unrest. They have access to food and water, have a local community linking arms with them, and have rhythms of safety in place. Simply said, they have made their home in that land. Sometimes the actual lived experience of people on the ground is very different from the one that is reported on the news, and it is much less disruptive for families to stay put, for their kids to continue to go to school and keep a sense of normalcy.

So I hope these things help you feel more at ease — that your relatives are likely trained and are being led by others who value their safety and have contingency plans in place. And that staying in the region might be far better in the longer term for your relatives than uprooting their families and lives for an indeterminate period of time.

Two Tips Backed by Brain Science

At the same time, I don’t want to minimize the impact of this situation on you. You are experiencing real distress and concern for your relatives, and when our nervous systems are activated, we often feel the need to reach out and to do something. And that makes so much sense.

Something to understand, though, is that our nervous systems don’t exist in a vacuum. They are wired to communicate with each other. God has given us mirror neurons that respond to what we observe in others.

When you share a lot of anxiety and deep fear about your loved ones and their decisions, their nervous systems pick up on that. And instead of you being able to be a safe space for them in their vulnerability, they feel the stress and burden of caring for you and your emotional response to the situation. It is also hard for them when they sense that their judgment and their ability to make wise calls is being questioned.

I know you want to love well, and I know you want to be a safe space for your loved ones. So in light of how God created our nervous systems and how they communicate with each other, I want to share a couple of tips on how to interact:

1.) Communicate confidence in God’s guidance and in your relatives’ discernment and capacity to follow the Spirit as they follow Christ. They don’t need to hear what you think they need to do. They don’t need to hear deep fear. Please remember they are walking a tightrope and that their stress levels are already high. They feel the extreme responsibility of caring for their children and those in their care. In that space, they need a listening ear, they need validation that what they are experiencing is hard, and they also need reminders that they are not alone and that however God leads them, God will be faithful. Your confidence in God is one of the best gifts you can give to them in this season.

2.) If you realize that your nervous system is activated, name it and move the energy in your body, preferably before having interaction with your loved ones. Take care of yourself first and of your emotional capacity, so that you have the capacity to be there for them. Do breathing exercises, go on a walk, call a safe friend that will be tender with you.

A Comforting Presence

Lastly, dear relative, I know you know this — we have a Shepherd who is with us and who serves us a feast even in the presence of our enemies (Psalm 23). He knows you and sees you as you care for and carry heaviness over people you dearly love. He is with you in this valley.

The song “Surrounded” by Josh Garrels has been such a huge blessing to me. Remembering our generous host, Jesus, who has given us Himself to be our feast through His body and blood is how we fight our battles. We take the bread and drink the wine, we believe He has overcome, we praise Him, and we wait for Him to deliver us and our loved ones.

Surely goodness and mercy are pursuing you specifically as someone who loves people in a conflict zone. You matter, and your love for your kids, grandkids, siblings, or parents is a beautiful, good thing. The Lord honors that love. Your love goes around all those precious people and even better, our Triune God’s love goes around all of you, all at the same time. In the presence of such a God, our tender hearts rest.

And if you are not a relative but you know of relatives of people overseas, reach out to them. Ask them how they are holding up. Show them that you see them. Ask for specific, tangible ways you can help. Sometimes reaching out to these relatives is the best way you can serve workers overseas. Reaching out to them directly may be overwhelming. But letting their families know they are not forgotten is a gift they will not soon forget.

May you sense tangibly how held you are,
Lilly

Dear Sending Church: We Need to Get the Parents of Missionaries on Board

My mom sits at her mom’s breakfast table, wailing and pleading. My grandmother sits opposite her, wailing and angry.

It is one of my earliest memories.

I’d never heard so much emotion out of either of them, and the sunny little room encircled by cabinets of glassware suddenly felt tense, alarming, to my five-year-old soul.

My Gram struggled to accept that we were moving to Africa, so that day at her table was one of many tense conversations. In her anger that my mom was taking away her grandchildren, Gram even consulted a lawyer to see if she could sue for custody.

During our first two-year term in Liberia, we faithfully sent her letters and pictures. My mom tape-recorded my brother’s and my voices and mailed the cassettes off too. Gram didn’t call once during the entire two years. She didn’t send a single letter. Her anger and grief consumed her.

My grandmother never understood my parents’ love for Jesus, so their motivation to become missionaries didn’t make sense to her either. But unfortunately, her response wasn’t all that different from many parents who do share their children’s faith.

In Mobilizing Gen Z, Jolene Erlacher and Katy White quote the Future of Missions study from Barna: “Only 35 percent of engaged Christian parents of young adults say they would definitely encourage their child to serve in missions, while 25 percent are not open to the idea at all.”

They continue, “Career success and physical safety are the top concerns. Nearly half said, ‘I’d rather my child get a well-paying job than be a career missionary.’”

Reading this didn’t come as a surprise to me. I coach new missionaries as they are preparing to move overseas, so I hear their stories of conflict and heartache with parents who don’t approve. Keep in mind that this disapproval often comes from engaged Christian parents – people who have surrendered their lives to Christ, who are hearing the Word of God preached every Sunday. So what is happening here?

Maybe we’ve all just become a lot more fearful in the last few years. Maybe churches have let their missions programs fade away. Maybe Christians have latched on to the idea that two-week stints are all that’s needed for transformative ministry.

I hear many people protest that our own country has its own share of problems, so shouldn’t we narrow our focus here? And that’s true – but we also have churches on every corner. Have we forgotten that almost half of the world’s population has little or no access to the gospel of Jesus Christ? Will we remember that Christ’s final command to His followers was to disciple the nations?

When every book tells us to live our best life now, when every advertisement whispers that we need more, deserve more, it’s easy to believe that this life is about our personal fulfillment. We forget that there has always been a cost to the gospel, and that cost might include our most significant treasures. Our comfort. Our dreams. Our children. Or perhaps even more gut-wrenching – our grandchildren.

My own children are nearing adulthood, and I am beginning to comprehend the depth of the grief I would feel if one of them lived across an ocean. I don’t want to minimize the engulfing sorrow I would experience if I had to watch my grandchildren grow up over Zoom calls.

The sacrifice of missions is real, it’s deep, it’s enduring. Those who leave feel it acutely, but sometimes we forget that those who are left behind feel it just as much.

The sacrifices only make sense in the light of eternity. Do we have the faith to believe that Christ is worth it?

Churches are often good at inspiring young people with a fresh vision for the Great Commission, sparking in them a passion for bringing the gospel to the ends of the earth. We send our students to Urbana and Cross Con; we sponsor them on short-term trips.

Yet I can’t help but wonder: How many young people have felt convicted to pursue career missions but can’t find the courage to devastate their God-fearing parents?

So while we exhort our young people to serve God wherever He calls them in the world, let’s also rally their parents to be their biggest cheerleaders, to open their hands and release their fears and their dreams to the One who sacrificed His own Son so that we might be redeemed.

And when we celebrate and send out new missionaries, let us also remember the pain of their parents. They need our special attention, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. They need the church to be their surrogate family when their own is ten thousand miles away. They need us to give them the vision of how their sacrifice is an equal part of the Great Commission. Our Savior is worth it.

Resources for parents of missionaries:
A book: Missionary Mama’s Survival Guide: Compassionate Help for the Mothers of Cross-Cultural Workers by Tori Havercamp
A website: Parents of Goers
An article: Senders Make Sacrifices Too
A ministry: Parents of Missionaries Ministry

Photo from Dobrila Vignjevic

Senders Make Sacrifices Too

Much of the time living in Cambodia, I don’t feel like I am making huge sacrifices for God. In fact, I’ve found many things to love about living here. I am so settled here that I sometimes forget that other people have made sacrifices for me to be here. Reminders come in the form of my children, when they miss the family and friends they’ve left behind. They come in the form of Skype sessions with my parents, when I realize anew how very much they miss us.

So I am sandwiched in the middle of two generations of people who have, in many ways, sacrificed more than I have – much more. My parents. My children. I have caused people I love to suffer — and I did it voluntarily. You might not hear many people talking about this. You are more likely to hear people talk about the sacrifices of the missionaries themselves (whether or not it’s a missionary who is speaking). But I think that does an incredible injustice to the thousands of people throughout the world who are sacrificing right now to send a loved one abroad.

My best friend in America was the kind of girl who dropped everything the day Jonathan’s dad was diagnosed with brain cancer, just to sit with me in my shock and grief. She’s the kind of girl who would drive to my house when my husband was out of town, so that after my babies were asleep, we could talk for hours and hours. She’s the girl I laughed with and cried with for eight wonderful years, and she’s the girl I still laugh with and cry with during furlough visits. She’s also a writer. About a year after we moved overseas, I asked her to write about how she felt saying goodbye to me. This is what she wrote.

A Letter from Home

by Teresa Schantz Williams

Last year, Elizabeth and Jonathan and their foursome said goodbye to their families and friends and flew toward the adventure God chose for them. Those left behind, with none of the distractions of a new culture, slowly adjusted to their absence. The Trotters were missing from the daily landscape of our lives, and knowing this was going to happen didn’t make it less painful.

At first when they left, I kept forgetting. I’d pick up the phone, punch in their number and sheepishly hang up. Or I would think I saw Elizabeth coming out of the library and wave too warmly at a confused stranger.

It was like when you rearrange the contents of your kitchen cabinets and spend the next four weeks trying to relearn where you store the salt. Things weren’t where they were supposed to be.

Their pew at church was too empty. No squirmy bodies next to Elizabeth’s mother, Mary, munching on grandma’s snacks and vying for grandpa’s lap. Those first few months were hard on the families stateside, especially as news of distress and health crises came their way. Powerless to help, family prayed.

A missionary wife once told me she hadn’t understood what the extended family sacrificed when she and her husband left for the mission field. She had since come to see that they relinquished precious time with their children and grandchildren, forfeited shared memories of celebrations and milestones, and suppressed their instinct to rescue when things went wrong.

Some are called to go. Some are called to let go.

If you have to say goodbye, this is the century to do it in. My grandmother had a dear friend who was a missionary with her husband in Burma during the 1950’s. Somehow they held their friendship together with letters and furloughs, and in the long silences between, they prayed.

Facebook, Skype, blogs, email have closed gaps. Within the digital universe, both sides of the ocean can post photos and videos and updates. Elizabeth can share funny stories about the kids, so women back home can “watch” them grow. To celebrate their special days, one can browse their Amazon Wish Lists to find a gift, or select something from iTunes. Even international travel is more feasible than it once was. Visits are possible.

Nothing substitutes for presence. These days, I can’t sit next to the bathtub and hold Faith while Elizabeth brushes the boys’ teeth. I can’t watch the boys wrestle or Hannah belly-surf down the stairs. I can’t go to a girly movie with Elizabeth and rehash our favorite parts on the drive home. I can’t watch her eat the frosting from the top of a cupcake and leave the rest because she only eats the part she wants. I can’t hug her.

I concentrate on what I can do. I translate twelve hours ahead and try to anticipate what they might need. 1 p.m. here? Asleep there. I pray that the girls aren’t waking them in the night, that their colds will soon be gone. I pray that they will be able to play outside every day this week. That Elizabeth can find hummus at Lucky’s grocery store. I pray the details.

I can look over Elizabeth’s shoulder and see the frontlines of world missions and watch God’s plans unfold. I can see what the Holy Spirit has done in her, enabling her to do things I wasn’t at all sure she could do. (Bugs, germs, smells, change in all forms.) And through her blogging, the special qualities I knew were inside her are out where others can see (humor, insight, modesty in all its expressions).

Perhaps it sounds overdramatic, but I’ve concluded that for me, missing my missionary friends is a standing invitation to resubmit to God’s plans. My true and proper worship.

“I thank God for you—the God I serve with a clear conscience, just as my ancestors did. Night and day I constantly remember you in my prayers. I long to see you again, for I remember your tears as we parted. And I will be filled with joy when we are together again.” (2 Timothy 1:3, NLV)

Originally published here.

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Teresa Schantz Williams is a freelance writer living in Kansas City, Missouri. She grew up in a ministry family.