Raising a Global Field Worker—Without Knowing It
I don’t think my parents ever expected me to become a global field worker. Maybe it was mentioned in passing here and there as a possible future whenever we read biographies of Jesus followers, but it was never something we thought would happen. No one in our extended family had ever worked overseas. It’s not in our genealogy. It’s not in our history.
Nevertheless, they prepared me.
Our home was not impeccably clean and organized, but it was clean and tidy enough. And it never stopped my mother from opening her home to guests and strangers. My parents love having people in their home and do not see guests as burdensome. They enjoy them. I remember I would sometimes surprise my mom with the many people I invited over after church, and she would simply say, “It’s ok, we can just add more beans to the chili.” There was always enough for more guests. She taught me to be creative and stretch what we have; having people in the home is worth it.
My parents are particularly good at welcoming those who have no family in the area—especially internationals. For many holidays we had folks from around the world joining our table and becoming part of the family. I particularly remember one event: a man from rural Africa started crying when he saw a fire in our fireplace. Since arriving in the US, he hadn’t seen a fireplace used, and sitting by it felt like he was back home. Even this past Christmas, they had an Asian family drive across the country to spend the holiday with them. My parents have become adoptive families to so many and continue to use those opportunities to reach out with the Good News.
I was encouraged by my father to go on short-term trips after high school, though I don’t think he expected this encouragement to lead to my moving to the other side of the world and raising my children—their grandchildren—so far from the nest. He had simply viewed the years after high school and before marriage as the time when I would have the most freedom. The day after I finished high school, I left for my first overseas trip—to India for a month. Other trips followed over the next several years, with the full support and regular prayers of my parents.
My parents never expected to have a child become an overseas field worker, but they certainly support the one who did. They’ve come to visit us. They send cards and letters whenever there’s someone to bring them over. They regularly pray for us. My mother has joined a group of other moms who pray together for their children who minister overseas. My mom and dad care about our friends and neighbors here and ask about them. They are excited about God’s work. What a joy it is to go with their support and blessing.
LB resides in Central Asia with her husband and three children. They are members of 2RP Church and are from central Indiana.