From the Director

From Mangos to Maples and Apples in Between

By Henry Bell, WEC Canada Director

“It’s time to go,” my father said, as I let go of his hand and took that of the smiling KLM flight attendant. The sun was blistering hot as we made our way across the scorched tarmac to the waiting Boeing 707. I looked back to see my mother waving her handkerchief as she fought back tears while trying to smile for me. Determined not to cry I climbed the steps. At the door of the plane I stopped, turned and waved.

I was six years old and leaving Liberia, West Africa for Belfast, Ireland. I had suffered from asthma for months, and, at the doctor’s recommendation, my parents were sending me to Ireland where they hoped I would recover. I couldn’t remember much about Ireland but had a vague memory that it was cold and covered with apple trees. My dad’s brother, Uncle Fergus, and his wife, Auntie Norma, were going to meet and care for me.

Squinting out of the airplane window I looked down to see my father and mother as well as my younger sister Ruth and my baby brother Richard. Although Ruth and I always squabbled about something, I would have given anything to be back down on the tarmac with her. They watched the plane, but I knew they couldn’t see me. Too soon the plane began to move, and as we lifted off the ground the green forests of Liberia spread into the horizon. Rice and cassava farms made a quilt, each patch hemmed with a jagged line of tall tress that followed the track of the river. The rusted tin roofs of Robertsfield airport came into sight, dotted among the many mango trees. Suddenly the beautiful ocean appeared, with sandy beaches stretching as far as I could see. A tear slipped out, but I quickly brushed it away.

I did not realize then how much life was going to change for me. Yes, I was warmly received by Uncle Fergus and Auntie Norma. Yes, Ireland was cold, and yes, I did recover from asthma. In fact, I recovered too well. Six months later when I ran up to my mother at the airport she just smiled, patted me on the head and walked on! I was stunned. My father laughed as he picked me up and called to my mother, “Mollie, don’t you recognize your wee son?!” Shocked more than I, Mom gave me a big hug. It was great to be back together with my family. However, this reunion was not to last long. I soon learned that my sister and I might attend boarding school. My parents gently asked us if we were willing to go. I still remember thinking this was something I needed to say yes to. We agreed to go. After nine years at boarding school during which time I saw my parents only three times a year for monthlong holidays, I again found myself alone on a plane returning to Ireland. Upon completion of high school in Ireland I headed for university in England. From there I went to Canada to marry Nancy (my boarding-school sweetheart), join WEC and leave for ministry in the Middle East.

Is my story unique? I don’t think so. This life of early independence, of living away from parents and siblings, is the story of many missionary kids (MKs). Now, as I look back and reflect, many questions rush through my mind. Did I miss out in some way? Did my parents fail me by sending me away to boarding school? Was the mission unconcerned about children? To all such questions I can now answer a resounding “No!” Yes, mistakes were made, untrained personnel put in boarding schools and assumptions made that if it worked for the oldest why not the youngest too? However, just as I never doubted my parents’ love for me, I also do not doubt the good intentions of those who sought to run the boarding school, or of the teachers and dorm parents.

Still, as a mission leader today, and also as a father of four MKs, I must acknowledge that good intentions are not always enough. I am encouraged by the efforts made today within WEC to ensure that families are cared for, that support for both parents and children is in place and that boarding school staff are well prepared and held accountable in ministry. Today there are many options for children’s education: Internet schooling, correspondence courses, home-schooling support and improved local schooling options. The call of Jesus upon a family (and the sacrifices this may entail), is as clear and strong today as it was for my parents. So also are Jesus’ promises and His care for the families He calls to “go!”

Our oldest daughter has just applied to serve for a year in North Africa. I have been a little surprised at the deep response in my heart: pride and joy, but mingled with fear and pain at her going away. Did my parents not also weep when they left us at the boarding school, as they glanced back through the settling red dust and saw our fading faces as we ran after the car?

Despite the occasional pain that arises as I look back over my childhood and adolescence, I am overwhelmingly thankful for the privilege I had in growing up as an MK: the chance to travel, to experience the richness of different cultures and foods, to carry three passports, speak more than one language and to have a broad, informed worldview. Yes, there is much to be thankful for. I believe my children also look back with gratitude for their upbringing in a “foreign” land, for their family roots in Ireland, for their current home country of Canada with its beautiful maple trees. They have benefited from the additional training and preparation I had as an MK to now be a parent of MKs.

Is Jesus still calling families? Does He still have a plan for the children of these families? “Plans to prosper and not to harm, plans to give hope and a future”? Again, the answer is a resounding “Yes!

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