A Homemaker Displaced

christmas tree ornament (Photo credit: zaimoku_woodpile)

Last weekend we drove to Tulsa, OK and spoke in our old church there. Except for the horrible weather, which prevented many people from being able to come see us, we had a wonderful time seeing old friends and catching up with one another.



Besides speaking in churches, we've been doing a lot of this kind of activity:


What is this? It's basically a meal, a dessert, or just coffee at someone's home. They invite their friends to come and learn about our ministry in Congo.  It's much more personal and informal than a church presentation and allows for more direct interaction with the guests.



We came home recently and discovered that the lovely couple we are staying with had put up their Christmas tree and decorated the house while we were gone. I was very surprised at the mixture of emotions I felt when I saw it. I was excited and happy, yes, but some little thing inside me was disturbed. I couldn't put my finger on it at first. I just knew I was less happy than I thought I ought to be. Later it came to me. We haven't been missionaries for all that long and this is our first furlough, so maybe there's a name for it and I just don't know it. I was conflicted because even though the tree was beautiful, it wasn't MY tree. The ornaments weren't MY ornaments. Self-centered? Probably. I just felt a bit displaced, like I was home but not really, even though the family we stay with loves us and we love them.

I feel really convicted about it. I thought about Mary and Joseph, and how displaced they must have felt when Jesus was born, again when they were in Egypt, and yet again when they went to Nazareth.

And then there's Abraham: "By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents," Hebrews 11: 9.

We don't live in tents, but we do live in temporary locations, in other people's homes.

It's nice to be rooted. I remember that feeling. But I am beginning to think there are things I can learn and gifts I can receive only by being uprooted and transplanted. It's a gift to read about Mary and Abraham going to foreign lands and to really know what it feels like to be displaced and foreign. How precious to think I might have something in common with her: knowing what it is like to be a mom raising children in a strange country without the closeness of extended family!