Laura Parker — Life Overseas {a missionary blogs of life in Asia}

Two Missionaries Walked Up To a Coffee Bar . . .

by Laura on February 21, 2012

The following is a typical conversation I have found myself in more times than I can count during my {short} two years on the “mission field.” And, yes, some of it is a tad-exaggerated {emphasis on the words some and tad}.

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When Missionaries Meet

Setting. It’s a sweltering-hot day in the tropics. New Missionary and Better Missionary find each other at the free coffee table during a break at a Christian school or a church meeting or a whathaveyou. New Missionary is missing home, hating learning a new language, dreaming about eating a toasted BLT, and feeling like she’s on a different planet from her husband, whom she just so happened to move around the world with 8 months ago.

Their eyes meet, and the conversation begins . . .

New Missionary: So, how long have ya’ll been living here?

Better Missionary: {Quickly and with a bit of a polite humpf} Oh, we’ve lived here for 27 years {emphasis on 27 and extra-emphasis on years}.

New Missionary: Oh, really? That’s awesome . . .

Better Missionary: Yeah, we were here when there was no phone system in the country and when you had to milk your own cows if you wanted to make yogurt for your kids. You know, we remember when we were the only white people, maybe in the entire country, and we didn’t have things like Skype or the internet. We really missed our families then. And the medical care, oh, don’t get me started! I remember when I had my five babies in a village without any medication or help but the local medicine woman who I had led to Christ earlier that month. Now, that was a miracle! Life was much harder then, but, enough about me, how long have you been on the field?

New Missionary: {A little quieter now} Oh, me? Well, we’ve been here almost one year now.

Better Missionary: And how do you like it? How’s your language coming?

New Missionary: Oh, well, actually, we’ve had a really hard time living here. And my language is still really slow. I’m having a hard time finding the time to study, I guess.

Better Missionary: Well, I always say you make time for what’s most important to you, and if you want to do anything effective here, we always say learn the language first, before anything else. I mean what could be more important than speaking, right? {Laughs, as if she just heard a terribly-hillarious joke.}

New Missionary: {Laughs with Better Missionary but thinks} Um, not killing my kids? Not getting a divorce because of becoming a missionary? Not gaining 50 pounds from depression-induced chocolate consumption?

Better Missionary: So, you said your kids went to school? Do they like it? We are homeschooling, actually. People say it’s so hard, but I can’t really understand that. I mean, take me for example, I have 5 kids and then we adopted 3 more, and I still find the time, while cooking organic, growing a local garden, and mentoring the nationals in our local church. We’re actually working on translating the Bible into a remote language that we learned while we were living in the bush for 17 years in a hut with no electricity and nothing to eat but potatoes! I say, if I can find the time, anyone can!

New Missionary: Wow, sounds like you are pretty busy.

Better Missionary: Well, not really. I find such joy in serving.

New Missionary: Yeah, serving is really great, for sure.

The End.

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And, maybe it’s like soldiers coming home from the warzone and comparing battle scars. Maybe it’s that missionaries feel an extra pressure to prove their worth because they live on the donations of others. Perhaps it’s this thing apparently we all struggle with called pride. Maybe it’s just because I’m the NKOTB {Yes, I just did that}.

But, whatever the reason and very unfortunately, it seems that the me-monster consumes even missionaries, too.

And I’m reminded that no matter how many years I spend on the field, no matter what dramatic “mission” God may call me to do, and regardless of how my missionary-story, heck, my life-story, turns out, the words of James still challenge me to shut-up more when I meet people. {“Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” james 1:19}

And then I think of Jesus himself. And I wonder what millions of unrecorded minutes he logged asking good questions and then not speaking the answers–

Wonder if even he listened more than he talked.

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Have you experienced any Me-Monster-ish behavior lately? In your work place, friend-circles, playdates, missionary communities?

{ 12 comments }

Swimming Upstream, Again

by Laura on February 18, 2012

I wrote the following post about struggling a year and a half ago, and I returned to it this week. Because, honestly, it’s been one of those-- when the computer virus infected all of our websites, when the details of launching a new site caused late nights, when it became official that some of our best friends {actually, two sets of them} are leaving, when the tropical heat challenged our attempts at good-moods, when purpose and direction got lost in a fog. {Like, a literal one. The air pollution index has been off the charts this week because of fires in our area.}

I guess you could say, it’s been a week where we’ve had to swim harder than usual. . . .

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Life lately is a swim upstream.

It’s a battle against the current, a struggle against the oncoming tide.

It’s a season where so much seems like a fight–

in fostering my spiritual life and romancing my husband and pursuing Community.

It’s a hard swim against the oncoming waters–

in exercising routinely and disciplining my kids and stepping out to serve.

And I so often want to give up, take a breather, and coast for a while– even if it means the rushing waters take me downstream. These days I am tempted by the path of least resistance– though usually not better, it is typically easier.

And this path of least resistance for me looks like sleeping in most mornings and watching too much tv most nights. It’s staring at the computer instead of talking to my husband after the kids are asleep. The rush downstream is ignoring that disobedience and not inviting that family to dinner in the name of convenience. In my journey on this River, it translates into a Bible that stays closed too often and tennis shoes that don’t have enough dirt on the treads.

And when I think about what my life would look like in a month or a year or ten if I stopped the swim, if I just let the waters take me, I pause. Because the path of least resistance could lead –

to kids that resent me because I missed their hearts,

to an unhealthy body and a dry soul,

to a marriage that leaves me feeling alone,

or to an island that has become a life.

And so, and so, I set my sights upstream.

I clinch teeth, and I move the alarm clock downstairs.

I renew resolve, and I make an exercise chart.

I dig in heels, and I facebook a friend for a get-together this weekend.

And I choose to

keep

swimming.

To. Just. Keep. Swimming.

Because, if I can help it, I most definitely do not want the view from downstream.

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“Rest assured, any movement towards freedom or life, towards God or others, will be opposed.” - John Eldredge

“That which does not kill us only serves to make us stronger.” - Winston Churchill

“Love always perseveres.” - The Bible

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Experiencing a day, a season, of swimming hard yourself? Tell me about it. I’d love to pray for you.

{ 10 comments }

I Do, Still. STILL.

by Laura on February 12, 2012

In honor of all the hearts floating around these days, I am re-posting a piece I wrote about eight months ago. We were just returning to Asia after a glorious six weeks in the U.S. with family and friends, good bread and better coffee, and I was wrestling with what love looks like, in a marriage, in a work, in a life, over the long-haul–

when new and easy, pretty and exciting begins the slow fade.

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The greatest wedding I ever attended was of two people that were already married.

Not kidding.

We had some 40-something neighbors a few years back who had gotten married young and fast. A baby was on the way and so the Catholic wedding was sidestepped by a quick trip to a local judge.

And 12 years and three kids later, they decided to get married. Again.

And it wasn’t an afterthought wedding, either. It was full-on white dress and big cake and outside tent and stretch limousine. There was a dj blaring and a photographer snapping and a bartender pouring.

They must have spent a small fortune.

But what I remember the most about that day happened during the ceremony. The priest stood before this middle-aged couple, and he told the crowd something like this,

“Most people say, ‘I Do,’ before they know exactly what they are getting into. They can’t really know what marriage will be like, but they have faith and hope that it will turn out in the end. But, today, you get to witness something really special, really unique. Because Mike and Abbey are saying, ‘I Do, Still.’ They are committing to a marriage with the full knowledge of what marriage is really like.”

And it was incredible to watch them recite their vows about not leaving, when you knew they had lived the gritty battles of arguments before bed and struggles with money and sleepless baby-nights. Mike and Abbey had held jobs and kids’ hands and a home together, and they had walked through 12 years of soccer games and dirty dishes and firsts, and lasts. And here they were, a tuxedo buttoned tight and laugh lines around the eyes and miles traveled on the same trail.

And after more than a decade of real marriage, they were choosing to still say, “I Do.”

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I write this from the front porch of a rental house in Kure Beach, North Carolina. My heart is full from six weeks of drinking in Community and connecting with family. We’ve been spoiled, honestly, by friends who have treated us and family who have served us and people who have given abundantly. Our kids have jumped on trampolines and surfed waves and played driveway basketball, and we’ve watched a bit of a resurrection take place in the spirit of our son. It’s been fresh air to speak the language and understand the systems and feel known.

But tomorrow, we leave the beach and head to a hotel, where we will board a plane to stay in another hotel, from where we will pack three kids and seven suitcases onto a plane headed for Thailand in 4 days. And I would be lying to say that I don’t have mixed emotions about that.

Because when we boarded the plane last time, it was with high ideals and lofty dreams of adventure. We set off with great expectations and strong calling and the drive for a better Story. We didn’t know what to expect of living in a foreign country with small children, learning a language, integrating into an international community, or fighting human trafficking– but it didn’t matter, because in our best shot at faith and obedience, we boarded that sky-rocket, and left the familiar.

But, now? Now, we do know. Fully. We are Mike and Abbey, planning a wedding ceremony, a decade into marriage already. We know what living in Thailand has been like for our family, for our kids. We know the stress that comes from the language barrier, and we understand the chasms of culture we may never really be able to hurdle. We know the stress from driving, the weight of the sexual darkness, and the spiritual struggles we fight there. And it is hard. And gritty.

And far-from glamorous.

And, honestly, there’s a big part of us {the majority, actually} that doesn’t want to ‘walk the aisle’ on Wednesday, that doesn’t want to choose the wedding ceremony, 12 years in. Trust me, if there was an escape hatch, we’d probably take it.

But, there isn’t.

And, so, we are– getting on that plane.

We are, choosing. We are, leaving home. We are, jumping again.

And maybe there are all kinds of obediences and followings and stories when it comes to fleshing out this faith, this journey of ours around the sun. Perhaps in some circumstances the greatest gift of hope you make is leaving it all behind, while in other chapters the sacrifice is in the staying, anyway.

But, I think I am learning {again} that the point is not mostly about the specific action, the set-in-stone formula, the cookie-cutter faith. I wonder if what He really wants from each of us is

a walk down the aisle

and a heart that says to him,

even several seasons in,

I still do.

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Who, or what, have you been still saying ‘I Do’ to lately? What does loving well look like in your world this week?

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Gorgeous original art above by Amy Lee Weeks from HiddeninHeartScriptureArt.

{ 33 comments }

Eating Local

by Laura on February 9, 2012

One of the benefits of living in Asia is all the hole-in-the-wall restaurants that serve entire meals for a dollar a plate. Honestly, it takes about the same amount of money to fix a Western meal as it does to buy a Thai one.

Now, if I really had it together, I would cook Thai food and, thus, claim wonder-woman-missionary-mom-status. But, yeah, I’m still working on that one.

In the meantime, my ever-adventure-seeking husband leads us into all kinds of places in search of the next great find. And while one time we ended up eating noodle soup with congealed blood and all kinds of other things that were a bit too local for our taste, sometimes we stumble on a real gem. Like this place, pictured here to the left. It’s a family-run convenient store/eatery/gas station, and while the menu only has three things we understand, the view is worth the winding-road-of-a-drive.

I’d eat almost anything to get to overlook jungle while I’m doing it.

And the gas station at this mom-and-pop’s stop? Well, it’s beyond awesome in local flavor, too. My friend Debbie snapped this picture of it:

And finding these places, these unassuming food stands where the whole chicken hangs in the window or three generations are chopping garlic behind the grease-spattered whale-of-a-wok, well, it’s one of my favorite aspects of living overseas. And while I miss family like mad and mourn the utter absence of winter, I am growing to love the family culture we are building around the places we are eating,

despite the oftentimes less-than-four-star-restroom facilities.

Below is a quick video of one of our favorite lunch spots with a description of the Thai dishes we normally order. We eat here at least once a week, sometimes a whole lot more.

Doing dishes is not one of my spiritual giftings, I’m afraid.

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Let’s have it. What’s your favorite thing about the place where you live right now?

{ 8 comments }

Find Yourself a Rock and Paint It

by Laura on February 6, 2012

My amazing writer-artist-friend Kelley Leigh has begun writing again. Her words are simple and powerful over at her new blog, Forming Sentences, and just recently she posted an inspirational video from a girl she knew several years back.

The girl’s name is Katie, and the story of her life screams redemption in the midst of darkness. Perhaps one of the most powerful aspects of her story to me is the fact that Katie has inspired many using

her artistic ability,

flat rocks and

sharpie markers–

a testimony to me that I don’t have to have the full-time ministry position available, the right programs in order, or even some dramatic dream to love well the people that naturally cross my path.

Take 6 minutes to watch the following story of Katie. You’ll be inspired, like I was, by the God who brings light to dark places and shows up even in the simplest things like painted rocks. {You can also view my friend Kelley’s original post about her relationship with Katie, here.}

{ 7 comments }

Why {Almost} Every Missionary Should Have a Blog

February 4, 2012

The following is my humble, quick attempt to convince my fellow missionary-types to jump the hurdles of fear, time and know-how and just go ahead and start a blog of some sort. {That is, of course, unless you are one of those super-amazing people living in a closed country where blogs are illegal or in [...]

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A Week, Fractured

February 2, 2012

It’s Thursday morning, and I wake up with my mind racing. The balls are spinning in the air, and it seems the faster I juggle, the more likely I am to drop one, or two, or seven for that matter. I have about twelve too many projects going on at once, no consistent childcare help, [...]

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Interview with an Urban Missionary in Bangkok

January 28, 2012

So I met a family last week that suddenly made me want to sell all my stuff and go live in the red-light district of Bangkok, buying rice for the homeless crazy woman in the mornings and giving warm socks to the male prostitute on the street corner, trying to make a buck. Their story [...]

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Mustard Seed {Over at SheLovesMagazine}

January 26, 2012

If my spiritual life were a dashboard in a flight cockpit, I’m pretty sure the red lights screaming danger, crash-and-burn-imminent! would be angrily blinking. Because my faith has taken a beating this year, a battering. . . ********* But, here’s the thing I am {re}learning about this God I started following 25 years ago. He [...]

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8 Reasons You Should Never Become a Missionary

January 24, 2012

1. Don’t Become a Missionary if You Think You Are Going to Change the World. First, high expectations doom to disappoint, but, also, maybe your desire to change the world is trumping your desire to serve. Ask yourself if you would be happy moving overseas to a much harsher environment in order to quietly help [...]

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Praying in Color {Using Art to Pray}

January 21, 2012

Admittedly, I am a crappy pray-er. I have the attention span of a cocker-spaniel whose owners are having a dinnerparty, and the result of my distraction is that my prayer life is sporadic, hurried, and fuzzy, at best. Last week, though, I learned about a new tool to use in prayer that has really helped [...]

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