The Missionary Wife- A poem

God gave me this poem today, for all the precious missionary wives out there.

I saw her sitting in my church with a slight smile on her face,
she’s not very grand or important I would’ve passed her on the street anyday.
But I knew she was not ordinary,
I’ve been keeping up with her and her husband for years,
I felt like I knew her life and so I approached the Missionary Wife.

“Please tell me more”, I said. “Tell of every detail of your adventures, of the churches you planted, and how many souls to the arms of the savior you led!”
She looked at me pensively and said, “Yes I can tell you of all of those years. But if you would like more detail and depth, I will have to tell you about my tears.”
I nodded, interested in what her tears had to tell, for in my minds eye I saw her fearless and always well.

First she spoke of the calling to be missionaries and how they wrestled with it night and day,
and how she cried over the loss of her dreams in America but then obedience to God had its way.
She wept while navigating the grueling process of raising support, then tears of joy for raising the full amount,
And cried again when time to say goodbye to the memories and people, too much to count!

Then when she got to her new country, what an adventure it seemed to be, but then the tears flowed again as she came to see:

The language learning!
The hot sun burning!
Oh the traffic jams!
The children fighting!
The new food interesting!
Avoiding visa scams!

The day-to day was tiring, she soon came to know, and so tears of frustration began to flow:

Hanging the laundry to dry!
Failing at making a pie!
Throwing the toilet paper in the trash!
The kids school was not the same!
Her language learning was lame!
She could not take a bath!

Then she explained that it was not always tears of sadness and shame, but of joys and faith that remains!

Watching Jesus do miracles to others hearts,
Witnessing the wonder of a church plant start,
Being in ministry with her husband and best friend,
Observing her children’s faith as it grew,
Realizing God was more faithful than she knew,
Experiencing her love for the nationals transcend,

She watched her husband praise The Lord in his success, and then wept privately when He praised God even if he was depressed.

“Things were not easy,” she said, “and I will try to explain, but I must tell you these things hold many pains.”

We were there when dear friends passed away,
We went through a natural disaster that made us not want to stay,
We said goodbye to our children as they went to college one-by-one,
We heard of family tragedies in the states but we were far from home,
Sometimes we did not see success in our ministries,
And and times sorrow was all we could see.

I asked, “Where was God in this sorrow everyday?”
“Oh honey”, she said, “The most important thing, Jesus used His Word to wipe my tears away.”

She had spoken to me of losses I could not imagine, losses for a faithful missionary, I thought would never happen. I asked her one more question, “How could you year after year go through all that pain and strife?”
She smiled as she replied, “Because God called me to be a Missionary Wife.

By Melissa Bjorgen