Welcome to the realities of being the family of a missionary pilot “on call.” Since we were already in town, our whole family went directly to the MAF dock/hangar so my husband could talk to the people requesting the flight.

As my three daughters and I waited in the car, I glanced back to see my oldest crying big, silent tears of disappointment. Swimming is one of her very favorite activities. She’d been begging to go for weeks. Finally, a day had come when we thought we could make it happen and she’d been ecstatic. Now, she wasn’t going to get to go swimming after all.

My heart broke for my little girl. For my husband and I, the change of plans was easy to take in stride. We understood the situation––we knew Sean was on call. And we also knew that we were here for the very purpose of helping people like that woman in the jungle. But to our eight-year-old little girl it was yet another disappointment.

Brooklyn and I spent a lot of time talking about how things don’t always go the way we want them to. We talked about that woman and her family hurting out there so far from medical help and how they must be so scared and worried. We talked about how God can use Daddy and his airplane to help and share Jesus’ love with them. We talked about how we can’t be selfish and that opportunities to go swimming will come again. The tears didn’t necessarily subside right away––it was a tough lesson.

We couldn’t swim but we could still have fun. I took my girls home and we pulled out the special tea set. We made scones and even added precious chocolate chips from America. As we gathered around the kitchen table, now dressed in our favorite dresses instead of swimming suits, we smiled at each other and bowed our heads to pray for Daddy as he flew and for the stranger he was on his way to help.

The following weekend (when Sean wasn’t on call) we went swimming!

More often than not, on any day of the week, you will probably find me in the kitchen. I am sure to have frizzy hair and a red, sweaty face. Most likely my dark pants will have a floury handprint or two on them. I may be making a batch of flour tortillas or whipping up some more yogurt or stirring granola––okay, maybe all of the above at the same time and ruining most of it in my cooking frenzy.

If I’m not in the kitchen then I’m in our homeschool room, convincing my 8 year old that math is fun or in the bathroom lecturing my 3 year old about playing with the toothpaste again. Or, maybe I’m chasing the dog out of the house or asking my 5 year old to stop trying to wash the car with the kitchen sponge.

If I’m not in those places, I’m probably at the gate visiting with a neighbor or at the grocery store trying to find that one ingredient that the stores in town suddenly stopped carrying or bartering at the fruit market for mangoes.

People often ask me what I do all day. Actually, my day-to-day life is pretty ordinary. Redundant. Mundane. I’m a stay-at-home mom who happens to live in Indonesia.

It used to really bother me that I was stuck home all day while my husband flew into remote villages to help people. It was as if my primary ministry to my family wasn’t enough because it wasn’t full of adventure or tales of radical conversions. It didn’t feel like what I thought “ministry” should feel like. My husband always comes home with such big stories. I wanted to have big stories too.

God has been patiently teaching me that the work He has given me to do daily is indeed ministry and it is big––to my husband, my kids, my neighbors, and, most importantly, to the Lord. He desires my full attention and faithfulness to the work set before me because, to Him, it is an important ministry––a ministry He is equipping me to do with excellence.

Who needs big stories when you know you are serving a Big God?

“Work hard and cheerfully at all you do, just as though you were working for the Lord and not merely for your masters, remembering that it is the Lord Christ who is going to pay you, giving you your full portion of all he owns. He is the one you are really working for.” — Colossians 4:23,24 (NLT)

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We’re far from home and everything is strange here. Truly, most of the Christmas decorations are just plain ghastly and the Christmas traditions here often seem a downright sacrilege––like my friend’s church selling dog meat to help raise money for their Christmas program. But the Christmas traditions here are a miracle, if a bit strange to me. It wasn’t that long ago that, in this very part of the world, the Truth of Emmanuel, God-with-us, was completely unheard of. Indeed, many still haven’t heard the truth behind the celebrations and decorations of Christmas. Both here and back home in America, many have yet to meet this Jesus that we celebrate.

You and I know that Christmas really isn’t about a pretty Christmas tree––or a very ugly purple one. It isn’t about Christmas candy or snow or being with family. It’s about the birth of a Redeemer. My prayer is that those who don’t know the true meaning of Christmas will somehow see it in the midst of all the traditions and busyness of this time of year. May Christ be glorified all around the world this Christmas season!

“For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” — Luke 2:11

Learn more about the Cannon family and their life in Indonesia serving with Mission Aviation Fellowship.

I will never forget the sense of panic I felt as I stepped off the airplane into hot, muggy air and realized, “I don’t even know how to say ‘no’ in this new country. Or ‘thank you.’ Or ‘sorry.’ Or ‘excuse me.’ Or – and this is the most important one – ‘where is the bathroom?’”

I’ll admit it was foolish of me not to at least try to learn a few words before stepping foot on this foreign soil, but what with packing to move to the other side of the world and all, I just didn’t get to it. So, I got to experience fun things like using wild and useless gesticulations to tell the Indonesian maid at the guesthouse that we had accidently spilled milk in our room. Really, have you ever tried to describe milk with just hand motions before? I dare you to try it. Sound effects (such as “moo”) are optional.

A year after my first unit of Indonesian language study I still feel like a fool about 90 percent of the time. The problem now is that I realize I’m making these embarrassing mistakes but I can’t seem to stop them. Sometimes my tongue goes one way, my brain another way, and my lips dash off in another direction altogether. Someday, I would like to enjoy just one conversation in Indonesian without receiving blank stares. An added bonus would be if I understood all that was said to me. Nodding yes to every question can really get you into trouble.

Yes, language learning is a good tool for learning humility and dependence on God. It’s also a great way to make friends (if you don’t mind them laughing at you now and then). And, when you need a really funny story to tell people back home, you’ll be sure to have plenty to choose from.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the Indonesian word for “milk” is susu. You know, just in case you need it sometime.

First, the honeymoon. All is glorious and new and amazing.

Then, reality sets in and you begin to question your sanity at placing yourself in such a precarious position. You suddenly notice how steep the ledge is that you are perched upon, and you recognize that one misstep will send you careening into an abyss you hadn’t seen before.

Ah, but there is beauty and hope and grace in those unsafe and uncomfortable ledges. We realize how dependable God is … and how pitiful and pathetic we are apart from the One who led us there. We’re suddenly aware of our humanness and His God-ness. And we learn to trust Him on a level we never imagined possible.

This ledge can be a place of fear and worry and doubt. But if you can learn to let go of your misgivings in favor of a deep trust in the One who holds you, then there’s no better place to be.

Trust is a funny thing. It requires self-sacrifice, an abandonment of self-sufficiency. It requires letting go. Did you ever do those “trust falls”? The ones where you stand with your back to a group of friends and just let yourself fall backward, into their arms. You know they are supposed to catch you––but will they? Will something distract them? Are you too heavy, falling too hard or too fast for them to catch you?

This is like those trust exercises––only the stakes are much higher. But the Friend who is catching is much more dependable. His arms are strong, ever present.
If you find that God has brought you to a ledge––whether it’s a new country, a new job, or a new budget––go ahead and trust Him. You won’t catch Him by surprise. He’s ready and waiting for you to fall back with complete abandon into His everlasting arms.

Come to think of it there are lot of things I’ve come to accept as a normal part of life that were unfathomable to me before my first overseas living experience six years ago. I live in relative peace with the geckos that live on my walls, the cockroaches that crawl into my shoes, and the mosquitoes that attack me when I step out the door. I’m not startled or offended when my neighbors block off the street to hold a (rowdy) wedding. I’ve even learned how to keep a straight face when my senses are assaulted in the local market.

I’m often struck by the craziness of this lifestyle, of living so far outside my home culture that I have been known to refer to it as living in “opposite world.” Truly, it does feel like everything is the complete reverse of what I thought was “normal.” And yet, I’m beginning to feel quite comfortable in this new world I’m living in. How can this be?

I think the main reason I’m finding it so easy to slip into this new home is the people. We’ve been welcomed with open arms by nearly every Indonesian we’ve met. So far, it feels like we’ve been mostly on the receiving end of all the help––even though we thought we were coming here so we could help them!

It’s rewarding to be out there, as my husband is, flying the airplane and being directly involved in saving lives and carrying the Gospel to unreached people. But I believe it’s even more rewarding to find ourselves helpless and dependent on the kindness of God’s children here in Indonesia. We suddenly realize how dependent we children of God are on one another. We simply couldn’t be here without our national friends’ help. This is the Body of Christ at work––at its best––and I’m daily humbled to be a small part of it.