When I arrived in Africa, I was living the dream (yep—I was one of those). I’d thought living overseas was an impossibility—especially with four little kids—yet here I was, bare feet happily covered in red dust in my Ugandan kitchen.

You’re seeing this coming, right? Anyone attempted outside ministry with four little kids, especially when homeschooling? It’s like trying to brush your teeth while eating Oreos. 

Eventually, I found a rhythm that worked, teaching my kids four days a week, then leaving them with self-directed tasks.  

Today, with four teenagers—some of them struggling with typical MK issues upon returning to their passport nation—I wish I could take my younger self by the shoulders, gently turn her chin so her eyes aren’t looking over her shoulder at what could be. I would tell her, You will regret none of this open window to invest in your kids. 

I also regret none of the time I spent in ministry outside of my family, which were some of my sweetest days. And my kids saw a world bigger than themselves, where I also trusted them to worthy care and different voices than my own. But my days with my kids, investing in their souls during a time they willingly allowed me in, were priceless. 

I think of Jesus’ few statements on the cross: only nine, to be exact. But he spent one of those on his mother, entrusting her to John—the beloved disciple, but also a Son of Thunder. 

I have a son who could be described as the latter, and I can imagine what it would be like to be tasked with the nurture of one person nearing her older years. I hope it didn’t seem like a waste of time to John, who had so much to offer the world. 

But to Jesus, caring for the person He cared about mattered. 

Maybe John didn’t see his purpose like Jesus did. But maybe that’s okay.