My plane. My children and BWIMH. My heart.

My plane is parked on a rain-slicked tarmac as the pilot waits . . . and waits . . . for permission to take off. My children and Boyfriend-Who-is-My-Husband are back at home by now, taking a unified stab at life-without-Mom. They’ll do well, but it will be different. My heart waffles between being eager to reach Budapest and craving intense little hugs. But this ministry is worthwhile, and I am needed, so I go.

When we lived in Central Europe, most of our friends wondered at the relationships BWIMH and I shared with our kids. They observed our laughter and games with curiosity, studied us as we interacted with them at home and around town, and many asked bold questions.

Lithuania–like many former Soviet states–was full of 20 to 40-somethings who had been raised by the State. Parents, according to plan, were absent until late evening when they returned from work exhausted. The communist government claimed the right to mold and fill the young minds which would grow to lead the country, maintaining a unified atheistic belief system. So, when the Baltic States reclaimed their independence, and fathers and mothers were free once more to parent their children, many didn’t know where to begin.

The sheer strength of the love in Lithuanian hearts–toward their children, toward each other, toward us–was poetic, but our friends admitted to floundering with a lack of practical knowledge and experience. They quizzed us about why boundaries are important, when it’s crucial for parents to stand their ground, and how to discipline with love and consistency. We shared Scripture, answered questions, and invited them into our home, modeling biblical parenting as best as we could.

I’ve got to tell you, it was unbelievably humbling. BWIMH and I hadn’t been parents for long, and we made mistakes daily, but God worked through those conversations. We were both parented well, and we were thankful for that. Most of all, though, we pointed our friends to the Word of God. “We don’t do everything right, but this is our guide. This is the design,” we’d say. The more they studied with us, the more they saw their need to grow and trust God’s plan.

This week, I’m flying to Budapest for another chance to meet this need. I’ll be administering Stanford achievement tests for a group of kids whose parents have chosen to be intentional about impacting and shaping the lives of their children. Albania, Bosnia, and Hungary aren’t nations familiar with homeschooling, but this handful of families will meet for a week in Budapest for a round of testing that satisfies the requirements of their governments. The final day will be a day of required training for moms. I’ll be teaching a few of the sessions.

Please be in prayer for each of us–teachers, mothers, students. May it be a busy and fruitful week.
And pray for the little ones back home, too. After all, they’re the reason my heart is so wrapped up in all this. They are my favorite ministry. (Well, after BWIMH).

What’s your heartbeat for ministry? Where do you love to serve?