Curious Missional Memories

What gives us clues that some things in life impacted us more than others?  How do you know some things mattered more than others?  Do you see how those impacts affected and shaped who you are?

Have you ever gone on a missions trip or been in the field to do compassion work, whether it be with a Christian organization or charity?

Have you ever wondered what was noticed?  What really mattered to the people you came into contact with? What do they remember most?

I have some very curious missional memories.  I grew up on the receiving end.  I grew up meeting people who had told us their homes were in Hong Kong, Canada and the United States.  I grew up meeting "foreigners".  We call them now MISSIONARIES or INTERNATIONAL WORKERS, but to me, they were just known by name.

I grew up with LESS to offer and MORE to receive, and that allowed me to LEARN some valuable things about how to LIVE OUT LOUD for JESUS.

At the time, I was only 8 or 10 and I spent perhaps no more than 5 -6 years witnessing how they lived their lives.

I don't think most of them now would say they consciously were there to serve ME - they were there to serve my family, the adults in the church, etc.  I was just a kid.  I was just being tagged along because that was just what you did back then.

I can think of the missionary whom I remember mom loving being with.  Without words, I could tell mom felt a bond with her.  I could tell mom and dad were happy and at home when they were together.  But I don't remember her really talking TO ME.  I don't remember any of her teachings or preaching (did she preach? I suppose she did)

And I remember the family that came after her to serve as pastors in our church.  I don't remember any of the sermons the missionary pastor ever preached while I was living there.  But I have curious memories - flashes, really.  I see him stopping by the basement of the church and standing behind as he watched us worship as children.  I remember finding him on Friday or Saturdays, on a ladder, fixing something broken in church.  And I remember his smile, his belly laugh, and him embracing babies.

I remember his wife, the missionary, more.  She taught and guided us younger kids but again, I don't remember the lessons.  But I do remember her being very human and real.  I remember her disciplining her kids, just like my mom.  I remember her cooking with my mom.  I remember her feeding her newborn and letting me into her bedroom while she nursed.  I remember her disagreeing with one of our other preteens while she was doing a lesson.  And I remember her getting sick because we would sometimes go to their home.  I suppose mom and dad were there to help with something.

And then I remember the 'white' missionary couple that came to our church.  I remember the husband.  My first impression was that he must have been the tallest man in the world.  The next curious thing was realizing how odd this 'giant' looked when he sat down to play some sort of fancy wind instrument.  I remember feeling surprised that pastors would sit on a sideline to play during worship quietly and unpretentiously.

I remember his wife and being mesmerized by her skin tone and voice.  She had a way of speaking Spanish that made me almost jealous.  She sounded exotic but attractive.  She was so gentle.  And I noticed that these foreign missionaries from North America were always very strong - not just spiritually, but physically.  They worse so little clothing - T-shirts, shorts, no jackets.

And I remember my first piano teacher.  A missionary gave me a chance to learn so I would go to her apartment on Saturday mornings.  I felt I was going to royalty.  Her apartment was so clean and yet I never felt unwelcome.  She obviously loved anything to do with British Royalty and I remember wanting to peruse through her books but being afraid to touch anything.  She was tall and pale.  She was very proper but she was very caring in a very quiet and gentle way.  I loved going to her house.

I met many others, but these are the ones we actually shared more than moments together.  And as they let my family into their lives, LITTLE SANDY began building a worldview, unbeknownst to her (and perhaps to the missionaries too)

As a kid, I thought....

1) "Missionaries have more money than us locals" 

They all had nice houses and apartments.  But despite this, I never felt they bragged about them.  In fact, they were always so open to us coming in.  I remember mom saying "oh, we will pass by so and so's house today, let's stop by to say hello".  Sometimes  they would not be home and mom and dad would be OK with it.

2) "Missionaries have beautiful decorations"

They all decorated their homes.  Their homes were all different, but they all had glimpses of who they were inside them.  There is the casual missionary family who decorated their home with just bits and pieces (no coordination per se) but where I was always free to explore all - I could go to any room and I had free reign into any corner of the house.

There is the apartment of the neat and clean missionary who had a wonderfully spelling bathroom.  I remember not being able to resist and peeking into her cosmetics.  I remember seeing all the glass jars and feeling like a princess.  But that same missionary had a curious way to decorate her hallways.  No wall was left bare, but they were full of 'pictures' that had no frames.  She had calendar cutouts, glued onto box cardboard as frames. 

"She must have used up all her money to smell good and pay rent" - was what I figured

And then there is the family that had a million musical instruments - except that they figured out a way to hang them on walls to make them look nice.  And they used what at the time I considered 'lower' class and 'ugly' local stuff.  But somehow these missionaries had a magic touch - they turned ugly stuff into amazing decorations.

And of course, how could I forget my piano teacher....her books about the Royal Family.  I think at one point I wondered if she was somehow related to them.

3)  "Missionaries use stuff we don't have here"

I have the most curious memories of what these missionaries had in their homes.  I already told you about the amazing smelling bathroom full of beautiful cosmetic containers.  But I was introduced to Tupperware, Corningware and playpens.  I touched the first Waterbed, rocking chair, saw people use microwaves and freezers in new ways for the first time.  And oh, how could I forget their washroom -- they used FINESSE shampoo.  Now I know Finesse is actually a cheap brand here, but back then, I thought they were so rich for using that brand! 

4)  "Missionaries have curious family traditions"

How could I forget.  They prayed HOLDING HANDS like in the movies.  Every morning (I don't know how I ended up in so many breakfast meals) they would eat rather full breakfasts.  They actually liked dry cereal.  And every morning, they would pray for other missionaries on a photo roster they had by the breakfast table.  

They drink COLD milk and ICED water.  Some of them washed lettuce with red chemicals.  And they hug and kissed their kids and do stuff with them before bedtime...they say "Nite nite"

5)  "Missionaries are naive"

They all have house helpers, like many of us in upper middle class Latin America, but they treated all their helpers so well!  I used to think those helpers were so lucky.  But I also worried about the missionaries.  After a few years, I wondered and couldn't comprehend why they would continue being so 'nice' to everyone, despite the fact that they knew not everyone was always nice back to them.

6)  "Missionaries have parent problems too"

I saw missionaries discipline their kids in front of me.  Their their kids could be naughty like me too.  They also had meltdowns. Missionaries shared to other adults their dilemmas about the kids, their behavior, and their physical and emotional problems.  And when their kids were sent off to school, I remember seeing them miss their kids.

7)  "Missionaries have feelings"

I don't know if I have ever seen them cry but I have a sense that they were lonely for their homeland too.  I saw other adults pray for them, and for mom or dad giving them a pad on the shoulder, a hug or a look that was deeper than the regular 'hello'.  To me, missionaries were not always smiling.  I have seen them in pain and ask us to help them pass a bucket, get a towel, etc.  I have seen missionaries angry too, and impatient.  I have seen them raise their voice but I have also seen them apologize, which was very very new to me - I don't remember seeing many adults apologize as a child.

8)  "Missionaries have fun"

I don't remember any formal lessons or sermons from any missionaries, but I do remember them having fun.  I remember the sound of their unique laughter.  I remember one of them liking to sit on her favorite chair and lift her feet up.  I remember one loving tea.  And I remember them being always willing to have fun with us, no matter our age, size, nationality or status.

9)  "Missionaries have families"

I can tell you something about each of the missionary's family lives.  For those who served close to our church, we even saw their pictures, heard about their stories, personalities and uniqueness.  I was blessed, and once I came here, I even got to meet some of them in more than one occasion.  When I did, I did not feel they were strangers at all.

In turn, many of them also met my families - they knew about a lot in our families and they even met many of them.

10)  "Missionaries are not preachers"

As a kid, I never thought missionaries preached.  I wonder what little Sandy would have said if I were to ask her today,

"Little Sandy, what does the missionary in your church do?" 

 I imagine she would say that these people shared about what they know about God to us.  To little Sandy, that meant that one of them was mom's friend and comfort, another was her best support as a new Christian mother.  To little Sandy, missionaries are great at fixing toilets, changing light bulbs and painting walls.  She would give me a look if I asked where the missionaries' offices were.  They had offices, but we she rarely saw them there.  She would say her pastor was the nice bearded man that would stop by the children's worship from time to time and sit quietly and watch us with a smile.  She would say missionaries tend to love music and they could play, sing or do something else that no one else in our church could do but that they were people willing to teach us.  They also were people interested in our lives, not just our spiritual lives.

Above all, I think unconsciously little Sandy knew these people had her back.  If anything ever happened to her or her family, she knew these people would be there to listen, give, help and love.

My worldview continued to change as I continued to grow and see these people in my life.  Yes, these people are still part of my life.  They still check on me.  I still know what is happening in their lives.

In time, I would come to understand how these missionaries and my observations as a kid helped shape me as a person, Christ follower and servant.  I had mentors before that was a popular word.

I came to see with my own eyes that missionaries were, in fact, humans like me, but unlike many of us, they were brave and willing to share all of them with us...not just the good.  They watched over us when mom and dad needed help.  Their kids played with us.  They asked me to help in their home.

They SAW me.  They INCLUDED me.  They did not HIDE - they were REAL people with messy laundry, kids tantrums, broken cars, hunger and thirsts, likes and dislikes.

In their REALNESS, they also seemed to have something DEEP that kept them from getting LOST - and they kept saying to us the name of their secret was JESUS.

There are kids surrounding us TODAY, wherever we are, and they are seeing, hearing, watching and remembering.  The question is,

What are they seeing?

What are they concluding?

What are we saying to them through our actions?

How will we impact their worldview?