“Some are called to go. Some are called to let go.” -Teresa Schantz Williams

Much is made of the sacrifices missionaries make in fulfilling the Great Commission. Not enough is made of the sacrifices family and friends make back home to allow missionaries to follow where God leads.

If you would indulge me, I’d like to talk briefly about some of the unsung heroes of global missions.

It takes a lot of faith to climb aboard a ship or a take a flight to travel to a foreign land and confusing culture. It takes every bit as much faith to watch your children or your grandchildren, your brother or sister, your very best friend step aboard and get launched to a life so very far away from your own.

Our family is fortunate. While we left Briana’s family in Washington State, we joined my family in Haiti. We left our family to come to the mission field to join our family. So no matter what country in which we find ourselves, we are surrounded by people who love us. Sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. This reality makes it a bit easier, but it also means that there is a persistent dull pain we cannot seem to shake.

Recently, I returned to Seattle to pick up our children who spent some additional time this summer with Briana’s extended family. It has been nearly 4 years since we sold our home and relocated to Haiti, but each time we leave Seattle to return to Haiti, the hugs are just as tight and the longings just as deep as when we departed in October 2015.

Trying to sleep in the tropics without a fan is tough, but a grandparent having their grandchild pass another birthday on the missionfield without being able to squeeze them and look them in the eyes and watch them grow is tougher. Showering without hot water is uncomfortable, but it doesn’t ache half as much as it must when a hole is left at family get-togethers on Mother’s and Father’s Day when a child is thousands of miles away. Trying to communicate in a different language can be frustrating, but hitting a rough patch in life and needing a empathetic ear and counsel but having your best bud half way around the world is even more frustrating.

We try to get back to Washington state twice per year to connect with family and friends. It is always such a life-giving time to be back with our home church. There are long periods between visits, but these periods are filled with prayer. We sense they are praying for us, and we hope they know we are praying for them. Our church family is unbelievable in their support for the work we do.

Briana’s family is unbelievable too. Since the day I met them, they accepted and loved me like I belonged to them, and then, when the time came, they sent my family and I off to Haiti like we belonged to God. While there is certainly loss here for them, they have considered the cost, and continue to cheer us along each step of the way. They rejoice with us. They mourn with us. They genuinely love us. They genuinely love our Lord. They truly believe we are called for such a time as this to share Christ’s love with the people of Haiti. They truly trust God will be near to us and His Spirit will empower us.

Their belief in what we are dedicating our lives to buoys us on some of our most discouraging days here. The hope they extend is based on how they perceive God has uniquely gifted and equipped us for this work. There is no pressure, only support. It is sweet and refreshing. The more I reflect on what they have done and continue to do for us, the more I see what it has cost and what it will continue to cost them.

We are humbled. We are grateful. We are loved.