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Have you heard the expression “Boots on the Ground?” Well our Live Dead Missionaries are the boots on the Silk Road. Here we’d like to take a moment and allow one of them to share a snapshot of their life with you. Some names and details have been changed, but this is a true story from this colorful, vibrant, and sometimes surprising region.

I’m from Illinois. And not Chicago.  Small town, no diversity, Illinois. When we decided to obey God and move to Central Eurasia, I was all in, not a bit afraid or hesitant and loving the excitement. After we had our first child and it was time to put him into preschool in rural, conservative, Islamic Central Eurasia, though, my anxiety levels began to rise.

As a mom, a thousand things are running through my mind at any given moment and personally, mine tends to be full of the what-ifs when it comes to my kids. Am I doing the right thing? What if he cries every day (he did for a long time)? What if he is confused with the language (he was, but only temporarily)? What if someone takes him (they didn’t!)?

I remember walking into what would be his new preschool for the first time. The colorful pink carpets, the heat, the smiling faces of what would be his new friends and his teachers, covered from head to toe. We were {lucky?} enough to come for our visit during the time when they were teaching the older kids about Islam.

Choosing to Trust

In that moment I made a choice. I decided to trust that God had the best plans for my children. Since our call includes our whole family and we had peace about this school, I put on a smile and prayed that he would thrive.

Within the first week, he made friends. Within a month, his confusion with the language seemed to diminish. Eventually the crying stopped too. Every day when we picked him up he’d be grinning from ear to ear. His teachers told us the kids had a hard time pronouncing his foreign name so they called him by a local name, which means hope.

God Turns Things Around

When we left the area and took him out of school, his teachers said with tears in their eyes, “He really is our Hope. So full of joy and love.” After just a few months in that school his language was incredible for his age. Even other parents were saying he was as good as their children. Now, we are working toward returning to that area and again my mind is full of what-ifs.

I’m not sure we can ever rid ourselves of the what-ifs when it comes to our kids, but we can intentionally turn them if we view our opportunities through the right filter.

What if the difficulty of a new language, culture and school in the short term produces skills in your child to help them thrive and have deep meaningful friendships long term? What if your child’s smile is the bridge that brings hope to a dying community? What if we, as parents, trust that God knows what our kids need and He is more than enough for them, especially when it’s difficult?

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