A few years ago, our family tried something new for Christmas. Instead of buying each other gifts, we decided to use the money we would normally spend to give Christmas to a refugee family. My kids had a blast picking out toys and clothes, and were so excited to deliver the presents on Christmas Eve. As we were shopping and wrapping and preparing, I asked them at least a dozen times if they understood they wouldn't be getting gifts this year. Yet even with their assurances, I felt myself go into a slight panic as Christmas morning approached… what if they are disappointed when all they have is a gift or two from their grandparents?  

You know what? They were fine. More than fine, actually. They still describe that Christmas as their favorite. But it brought to the surface one of my biggest fears as a mom on the mission field: that my kids will somehow grow to resent us and this life we chose because of all they missed out on.

And as I ruminate on this memory and this fear of mine, I realize, my kids' contentment is not the issue – mine is. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul gives us some examples of situations where he is able to find contentment. When he is in need and when he has plenty, whether he's well fed or hungry, he has learned to be content (Phil 4:12).

It's one thing to say I have learned to be content with the circumstances I personally find myself in, whether good or bad. But apparently I still struggle with my feelings of contentment when I think about my children and the life we have chosen for them. Can I be content with another Christmas passing by without my kids celebrating with their cousins? Am I content knowing that their experience of education is not nearly as fun and carefree as it could be if we chose to live somewhere else? 

The short answer is no, I'm not quite there yet. But I'm encouraged that even Paul had to learn to be content, and with God's grace, I can too.