Parent Of A Missionary... My Reflections

The holiday is over.
Christmas was not as hard as Thanksgiving this year without the kids.
I am not sure why. It seems like sometimes I feel so sad and
other times not.

My kids left about 9 years ago for Vanuatu. I never questioned their
desire to serve God in the mission field or their commitment to translation.
even though I knew that their commitment would keep them away
for a very long time.
I knew that I could never stand in the way of God's calling.
But I did question my feelings of sadness and pain over their going.
Some times were and still are harder than
others. The first holiday was very
hard. Having my fourth grandchild leave at only 5 weeks was very hard.
Having Michele sick when she left was very hard.
Having my only granddaughter
thousands of miles away was and still is very hard.

I recognized that sometimes the Christian walk is bittersweet.
Good and bad, happy and sad, and I know that it is the difficult things that
God uses to mature us, teach us,and even disipline us.

During these times I have tried to respond in faith. Faith that God knows all and I can trust Him. Faith that He loves both me and my children and grandchildren.
Faith that nothing happens to me or mine that doesn't pass through His fingers of
love.

Having said all this I was so blessed when I read in "Parents of Missionaries"
that Grief is the label I can put on these feelings.
Grief is what I have experienced. Grief, yes that feels right to me.

No wonder that I have always loved the verse in Isaiah 53:3 that describes Jesus as one aquainted with grief. I like to think that He is my grief bearer.