Is There Some Hip New Way?

Does anybody really care? Ha! Now I’ve got you oldie fans singing the Chicago song I’ve had stuck in my head all morning. Seriously, though, do you ever wonder if anyone really does care about where you live and what you are doing?

It’s been three years since I’ve been to Ohio, which is where our support base is centered. This June will be my first time to return since I’ve been more connected via Facebook and blogging. I wonder if it will make any difference. Do people know me better? Will that be a help or a hindrance?

For me, I enjoy seeing who’s gotten married, who’s become a grandparent, who’s made fabulous trips I have enjoyed vicariously by seeing online photos. It’s been fun “liking” these events on Facebook and leaving quick comments occasionally. I’ve been in touch when tragedy has hit certain friends, and I’ve been blessed to pray for them during the dark nights of loss.

But how will this affect my re-entry into their real lives?

Before this season of re-acquaintance via the computer, I noticed that friends’ lives are busier each time we visit the States. Even being in the neighborhood for a whole summer, I have little hope of seeing people more than once or twice. That’s just how it is nowadays. I get it—sort of—but it still hurts a little bit.

Don’t you ever long to see your friends and family, and secretly imagine a wonderful happy reunion where everyone embraces you, welcomes you back, and then honestly cares that you are there? I know I sure do. Deep down, though, I realize that friends are overwhelmed enough as it is. Their lives have very little margin to allow for free time to hang out with their missionary friend, even if they wanted to.

The nagging question is “Do they really want to spend time with me anyway?” Maybe they view me as a persistent Amway salesman who only wants to entice them to spend an evening so I can try to gain their support. Maybe deep down I really do wish they would get on board, even if I’m too chicken to ever mention finances.

Anyway, it’s funny that just as I have developed my “voice” in writing, and have met so many new e-maginary friends, all of a sudden I feel insecure with the whole “being in the States for a mini-furlough” business this summer. People know that the main reason we are there is to try to raise more support. Will they just try to avoid us? Will they even care? Will we have anything in common with our former friends and acquaintances?

Have you been there, done this recently? Can you talk me through the process again? What works? It’s not that I have forgotten, but I wonder if what I used to know is even relevant any more. Is there some new hip way to relate to others and still share needs from the mission field?

IRL* Help!

Trust and/or Obey

Trust and Obey. This is the latest song running through my head. If only it were so simple.

Sometimes I think it might be easier if we were on a regular furlough schedule with four mandatory years on the field followed by a year of “stateside ministry.” Instead, we live in a place where many families go to the US or Canada every summer. We would drive up every other summer to maintain our support base without having to set up housekeeping long term.

Our policy was always to raise support little by little before it became a dire need. However, like many of you, we have found ourselves slipping further and further behind with the economy downturn. Faithful supporters discontinued their giving just as we began to face an increase in the cost of living.

The added conflict is that it’s no longer so simple to drive up to the States from southern Mexico due to all the problems along the border. The cost of flying is prohibitive, as is purchasing or renting a car each time we make a trip. Then there are the gas prices for all the travel. We used to cover about 15,000 miles each mini-furlough.

Sorry if I’m depressing you. Many of you are in similar situations, I’m sure. Dh and I are contemplating spending a few months in the US this fall for the express purpose of raising some additional support. However we are indecisive. Can we really afford the time away? Dh would need to fly down here at least two or three times to honor prior commitments. And how would I manage to home school a 7^th, 9^th, and 11^th grader while juggling extra stateside activities for a semester?

Then again can we afford not to go?

These kinds of decisions make me nuts. The past few attempts at “support discovery”—or whatever euphemism you want to call it—were unsuccessful. We returned to the field with credit card debt, and no additional monthly support to make up for what was lost.

Meanwhile friends and acquaintances at church are all tapped out. Their mailboxes are filled with pleas for financial assistance from every ministry and missionary they know. Maybe they don’t even want to see us. I can’t say I blame them.

All I can manage now is to trust or obey, but not exactly both. I’ll go where He wants me to go, but will He really provide? Then again, I’ll gladly trust Him to provide if only He’ll let me stay home in Mexico. Do I really have to do both?

IRL* To go or not to go? That is the question.

Am I Alone in This??

This week I literally have nothing worth saying. I started out answering a common question we have all pondered, and in the process of answering it, became too emotionally involved and found that I need more time to search my heart for a proper response that is not silly or trite.

The question, just to get you thinking, is this:

"How do you respond when your closest friends and your own family seemingly do not support your ministry?"

Mind you, the question is not necessarily about finances, but also in prayerful support, visits, and emails. Each of these could take up a whole blog post. What I want to somehow acknowledge is that yes, it hurts when we have certain expectations that are not met. It would be easy to give some platitude about "trusting God and looking to Him alone" or to just be silly and quote a phrase I heard from a movie I never saw: "Maybe they're just not that into you." However neither of these approaches quite address the issue.

A friend just recently told me about the frustration of sending emails before a furlough asking people to let her know if they want to get together while she is home. Then no one responds. How can that not be received as a personal wound? We could explore lots of reasons why people don't call, don't write, don't offer hospitality, don't give a love offering or pledge monthly support. We could give all our friends the benefit of the doubt, saying each one has their own ministries stateside, or outside ministries they support, but does that erase the effect on our hearts?

What about when you desperately need a certain amount of money for a critical need, and you think you have plenty of friends that surely would each give a small amount until the need is met, and then no one does? How do you keep trusting God and not feel resentful that people do not respond? They don't send an email assuring you of prayers, they don't send a check, and in fact you wonder if they even read your emails. For many of us, this is reality.

We all have seen what loving supportive friends look like, and we all long for that. Some of us are blessed with a bunch of them. Others are not.

I'd like to hear from your own experience on this subject. Feel free to write your story anonymously in care of our editor, Cindy.

IRL*sometimes the closest to you can seem the most distant.

My Southern Little Mind

Here is my latest epiphany: not everyone plays by the same rules.

A high value where I come from is "to not be beholden to anyone." That just means we never want to owe anyone a debt of gratitude. It's a sort of payback society in which every act of kindness or hospitality is acknowledged, if not actively reciprocated. It's not required, but somehow everyone knows that it's expected.

No one ever taught me this, but I "caught" it by observation. I watched my mom phone people to say "what a lovely time we had at your house for supper last night!" I listened when other people called her, as she responded predictably, "It was our pleasure. We sure enjoyed having you. And thanks for the thoughtful hostess gift. Y'all sure didn't have to do that!" Thus I learned the rules.

What got me into trouble was assuming that everyone had been raised accordingly and then judging each infraction as a "social blunder."

In the early years in Guatemala I drew some ugly and hasty conclusions that in retrospect I realize were inaccurate. I mistakenly thought people didn't like me because

1. They never phoned to say they enjoyed my hospitality, and

2. They never invited us back.

In my southern little mind, the game ended there, since etiquette prevented me from further initiating social interaction. Clearly it was the other person's turn.

None of this was a conscious thought on my part, but simply an invisible, unspoken factor in my fledgling friendships in the missionary community. "Doing unto others as you would have them do unto you” meant not inviting anyone over for a second time. Since I wouldn't want to be beholden to anyone, I wouldn't put others in that position either.

Once I analyzed this silly game, I gladly stopped playing it.

On further examination, I think missionaries from all cultural backgrounds get so accustomed to being on the receiving end of people's generosity that they never attempt to "even the score." Even I am guilty. I do send a thank-you note or email to acknowledge an occasional gift from a new donor, but I can't possibly keep up with all our regular supporters except with monthly updates and photos on my blog.

Some of our partners in ministry are southern-bred folks with a keen sense of what they consider good and bad manners, and surely I have offended them by not playing by the rules. For that I am truly sorry.

My only defense is that on the mission field, I receive from some (supporters in the U.S.) and give (hospitality, finances, etc.) to others. It's not a direct payback. My philosophy now is that all I receive is a gift from God, and therefore it is to God I owe the debt of gratitude. I make small payments on my account when I, in turn, bless others or simply praise and thank Him daily. Regardless of my meager attempts, I can never repay my debt to Him.

Even though I am inexcusably a slacker in the thank-you note department, my gratitude is sincere. I’m grateful to God and to the individuals and churches He uses to bless us, and through us, to bless the people of Mexico and beyond.

      IRL*Grateful, always.