How can parents of teenage kids go to the field and not realize what lies ahead?  

It had to have been His grace that blinded us to our future. If we had realized how far our hearts would have to stretch when each child left the country, we may have not said yes when God said “go”. 

“It’s their presence I miss,” my husband often said. Knowing they no longer lived with us scraped at my heart. Even though our surroundings hadn’t changed, our children’s days of abiding with us were over. After we did one last airport hug, our home seemed to sigh. It felt so empty, as if it had completely exhaled and then forgotten how to inhale again.

Years later, when holding one of my grand-babies who was in tears because her mother (that youngest child we’d put on the plane) was gone, it hit me again: presence matters. Even though my granddaughter was in her own home, her parents were not, and being in her comfortable surroundings just wasn’t enough. 

As is always the case, God knows our environment can bring us a sense of settledness. There’s a reason why He promised that He is preparing a home for us! On this earth, however, His presence is His design to get us through. 

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Ephesians 3:16-19 

Why does Paul pray this prayer, and why does God record it for us to read years and years later? One of the reasons has to be the importance of faith. I often go through my days caught up in what I see, so then when I don’t see something or someone familiar, my emotions start to tilt. God’s power and riches, however, can strengthen me way beyond the visible. It’s through His strengthening of my faith (not a comfy couch), that I know Christ is dwelling in my heart. This power doesn’t make a Middle-Eastern pillow softer, but it does help me rest as I hold onto His presence. This power can remind me of His companionship even when the chairs at our table sit empty. This power can strengthen my resolve when the yearning for a home full of those I love haunts my thoughts. He has given me faith to enable me to grasp more of His truth: not having a home on this earth is actually a gift. Relationships that make a house a home will change, but this life of an overseas worker will continue to force my heart to seek the One Who has made His home in me.