I remember one specific night, overlooking the Nile in East Africa, moonlight licking the waves below me. I listened to the steady roar of water unseen, which somehow seemed like it should lessen with the dark.
My husband and I were visiting Uganda, exploring whether God was pulling us there.
I sat there in a pew, listening to my cousin share about my mom, who’d recently passed away.
After sharing beautiful things about her close relationship with my mom in her early years, my cousin changed course.
It was late-night Christmas Eve for them and early Christmas morning for us and we were watching my family on FaceTime. They had jingling belly dancer scarves from Egypt and were doing funny dances to let us know they missed us. At that moment it felt so difficult to be away from family.
With holidays abroad, time with grandparents, parents, cousins, aunts and uncles becomes limited. Relationships can become distant. We have to work harder to keep the connection and make the effort to keep in touch.
But on the flip side? When holidays roll around, we’re somewhat on our own, choosing if we want to celebrate with friends or teammates, church members or other people from our community.
Sheri Kretzschmar serves in Guatemala as a missionary nurse with Health Talents International. She and her colleagues work with the local Churches of Christ, conducting mobile medical clinics in surrounding communities–where together, they demonstrate Jesus’ compassion.
Sheri lets us lean over her shoulder during an uncharacteristically busy surgery week of patients from local villages.
Sunday, February 11
Let the surgeries begin!
“Don’t you want me to become a Christian?” It was a question thrown out like an accusation. “I want you to become a Muslim.”
Since COVID-19 left me stranded in a remote part of Tanzania, I’ve been bemoaning the items I left behind.
First, I missed the comfort foods, a certain pair of shoes, an extra skirt. Then one day I realized that I was on my last few anxiety pills. As my supply dwindled, any of their positive effects were undone by my mounting fear of surviving without them.
Moment of truth: One of the most difficult things about missionary life is often…
Meet Jeremy. He’s a ceramic bank who’s travelled the world with me since 1972.
He sat quietly on my dresser in the U.S., Zimbabwe, the United Arab Emirates, and Australia.
“I know that I’m not the one out there doing the ‘front lines’ work, but hopefully I can support those who are.”
There was just the slightest catch in her voice.