I’ve said goodbye a lot of times in my life.
I started attending a missionary kid boarding school when I was in 6th grade, and since that time goodbyes have always been a rhythm of the seasons. Goodbye to my parents when they drop me off at school. Goodbye to friends who are heading out on home assignment. Goodbye to friends whose family is leaving the mission field. Goodbye to my home when I graduated college and needed to fly halfway across the world to the country my passport forced upon me as home. Goodbye to my parents again as they traveled back over the Atlantic and I stayed at college. Goodbye after that glorious summer that I got married and STILL wondered why it was so hard to say goodbye when I had my Theo-family right by my side. And then goodbye as we grapple with how to explain to our kiddos that this time it’s not quite “see you later” and Grandpa and Grandpa don’t live within traveling distance anymore.
You’d think after all those goodbyes, I’d get pretty good at it, right?
Wrong.
It’s still gut-wrenchingly hard every single time I have to say goodbye and send these two back across the ocean.
This week we said goodbye again- for a year or more as my parents return to the mission field to serve.
Serving as missionaries has come a long ways since the olden days. When my grandparents left for the mission field, they bordered a passenger ship that took them across the ocean. Every single missionary knew that there was a high probability that they would most likely not see their home country or their families again. They faced religious persecution, practically no health care and the dangers of life in an often unstable political country. The only way to communicate was through snail mail letters- that were transported by ocean liner, not airplane.
Now, my parents can board an airplane and be back to their field within 48 hours. They have some health care, and we are thankful for the blessings of email and Skype and WhatsApp.
But it’s still a huge sacrifice. They face risk and danger from political and religious instability, as well as the dangers of the infrastructure of a third world country. They have given their lives to serve on the mission field, and even if the world has come a long way since generations ago, it is still a sacrifice. They don’t have Oreos, or even Walmarts, and many days and nights they don’t even have electricity. They don’t get paid and they don’t get any fancy vacations. They simply and do their best to spread the gospel of Christ through both their words and actions.
But the biggest sacrifice of all?
Saying goodbye.
It’s heart-wrenching and hard and we know that while we always, always, always have the hope of heaven, we know for sure we aren’t guaranteed a next time. We ache knowing the milestones that will be missed and the conversations that will have to be had over a wonky Skype connection and frequent power outages.
And yet.
It’s worth it to be in the center of God’s will, to be following Christ’s call to the very end of the earth. It doesn’t make it easy….it’s still hard. But hard is not bad, and so we rejoice as these two faithful missionaries step onto that airplane for the long flight back to their mission field. We pray over the people they meet and the conversations that they have and the discipleship that they engage in.
And we count down the days until we get to see them again!
I’m an adult MK too. I don’t like goodbyes either. I now live 2000 miles from my family, which is not as bad as when they lived in Africa and I saw them once in 3 years. I still don’t see them often as it is very expensive to travel from my location, but our cell phones work and we text/phone often. All but one of my siblings lives reasonably close to my parents.
I live and work in the middle of the Australian outback. This is an incredibly transient place with people coming and going constantly. We have farewells at church at least every month or two, sometimes every week! Work colleagues change frequently too, and sometimes it feels all too familiar to my MK years in Africa.
As an introvert who struggles emmensly with goodbyes I have to be very intentional about saying hello because it is very easy to not do so because I know that goodbye is going to come at some point. But if I don’t risk the hello I end up being very isolated. It’s been 25 years since I lived full time in Africa, but university, Bible College and living in one of the most transient places in Australia haven’t helped my dislike of goodbye.
I have managed to stay in this area for 12 years and recently achieved 4.5 years in one house, the longest house I’ve lived in since I was 14. Not moving does help, I think, especially since I’ve moved over 30 times since I was 14.
I’m a retired missionary and I can attest to the painful goodbyes. I thought they would eventually get easier, but they do not. But serving God is worth it.
BTW, in order to introduce myself, I was at Cedarville, working in the health service, when your mom was a student there. In fact, she worked part time in the health service, which is how I got to know her.
On another note, may I suggest changing the background color of your blog? My older eyes are having trouble reading this with the colored background.