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Missionary Mommy Wars {A Life Overseas}

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by Jonathan

I just want to come out and say it; I’m not a mommy. Shoot, I’m not even a woman. (OK, those were some of the weirdest sentences I’ve ever written.) But despite my obvious shortcomings, I’m still writing this article. Here’s why:

I look around and see young moms and experienced moms who are serving cross-culturally, and they’re under siege. I see them, battle-weary and bleary-eyed, burdened by expectations that would crush the strongest. I see them wrangle toddlers and tonal languages. I watch them brave open-air markets with raw meat hanging on hooks and open-air homes with neighbors peering in through windows.

Click Here to continue reading this post on A Life Overseas…

A814AB Section of barbed wire. Image shot 2003. Exact date unknown.

Please Stop Running {A Life Overseas}

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by Jonathan

I’m writing today over at A Life Overseas.

 

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In my former life (and I mean that in a totally non-Buddhist way), I worked as a trauma nurse at an inner-city emergency department in the States. One of the first rules new hires had to learn in the ER was that No.One.Runs. Even if someone just got shot or stabbed or is actively dying, no one runs. Even if you have to go to the bathroom really bad, no one runs.

Even in the middle of taking care of a trauma victim, it was better to be calm and methodical than stressed out and in a hurry. So many times I heard a senior physician or nurse tell the newbie, “Slow down. Breath. Think.” The “slowness” of the attending physician didn’t mean she cared less about the patient. It didn’t mean she was lazy. It didn’t mean she was worn out. It meant she was experienced.

——

Could we just push pause for a second and invite the Prince of Peace to teach us what it might look like to live in peace, even in the ER? Even on the field?

For the full article, click here.

MORE Reasons You Should Be a Missionary

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Your coffee shop will sell fresh meat AND fresh coconut milk. And coffee.

Your coffee shop will sell fresh meat AND fresh coconut milk. And coffee.

by Jonathan

At the end of my post on A Life Overseas called 10 Reasons You Should Be a Missionary, I asked the readers this question: If a “Top 10 List” could have 15, what would you add? Folks replied with some great stuff, which I’ve compiled and edited below.

So, just in case my Top 10 List didn’t convince you, here are some more reasons being an overseas missionary is awesome. To see all of the responses, view the original post.

– You’ll get to go off-roading in a 4×4 just to get to your village.

– All the chicken is “free range.” However, “free range” is interpreted loosely, and may in fact mean “they live and eat in the gutters and trash piles, freely.”

Continue reading →

I Married a Teenager

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by Jonathan

She was eighteen. A math and chemistry nerd, more fond of books and calculators than looks and popularity. She was more prone to quote a hymn or a textbook than a pop song or movie. She hated hot dogs. And donuts.

She stole my heart without even trying.

That teenaged college sophomore became my bride. My best friend became my wife.

And then she changed. Fourteen years later, the college kid I married is now a woman.

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3 Ways to Care for the Heart of Your Missionary Kid {A Life Overseas}

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Yesterday, we talked broadly about caring for the heart of your TCK. If you missed it, you can find it here. Today, we’re looking at the unique subset of TCKs known as Missionary Kids.

I thought I was done with youth ministry. I thought I’d move to Cambodia, be a “real missionary” (whatever that is) and never attend another youth camp or weekend retreat. I thought I’d never smell “junior high” ever again, or play those stupid messy games created by someone who’s never had clean-up duty. But I’ve never been so happy about being so wrong, because the missionary kids with whom I’ve had the privilege of interfacing over the past few years have encouraged and challenged and taught me so much.

They’ve also broken my heart.

As I’ve seen them say goodbye to home. Again.

As I’ve heard them describe the pain of being misunderstood.

As I’ve watched them hug good friends whom they know they will most likely never see again. Ever.

Read the rest of Jonathan’s post on A Life Overseas.

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