Missionary Mom: The Craziest Vocation I Have Ever Loved

All mothers and babies pictured in this article are babies that have recently been born or will be soon! This does not account for the hundreds of other missionary kids that make up the rest of our FMC family. In this article alone, born and unborn, there are 21 represented! What a tremendous blessing! Since publication, other pregnancies have been announced, and we know the numbers will grow.

Many of my earliest memories are of being around my mom in mission. I remember playing on the tile floor of our living room in Mexico while Mom led a Bible Study with local women, while nursing my little sister; walking down the dirt road in the Philippines to visit a sick neighbor, myself hand in hand with my sisters while Mom carried my baby brother; working with Mom in our rustic kitchen to prepare food for a Lord’s Day dinner with families who were building Catholic community. Watching my mom balance motherhood of seven children with preaching the Gospel in Mexico, Colombia, New Zealand, Australia, and the Philippines felt normal and even fun.

I am certain that my mom’s witness had everything to do with my ability to say yes to missions when I found myself a newly single mom with three small children, discerning a call to serve with FMC in General Cepeda, Mexico. On the surface, it wasn’t a logical idea. Motherhood is hard enough without living it in the challenging environment of a developing country with foreign language and foreign customs. It increasingly seemed like the craziest idea in the world, as I prepared to leave my wonderful support system to serve the poor in rural Mexico. I frequently had to remind myself that “the wisdom of this world is folly with God” (1 Cor. 3:19) and “His ways are not our ways” (Is. 55:8). These reminders were especially helpful when I settled into life in Mexico, and found myself tutoring my kids in Spanish so that they could keep up in school, or warming their uniforms in the oven because it was below freezing, or fretting over another illness and a slew of medicines I didn’t understand. The vocation of motherhood in mission, as joyful as my mom had made it seem, is not for the faint of heart.

And yet there were many other moments: times when my sweet two-year-old’s hugs would bring a grin to an elderly lady who rarely smiled, when my ten-year-old would pack her Bible and textbook and walk across the plaza to teach catechism to preschoolers, when my seven-year-old would bravely testify to a small chapel full of people that St. Anthony answered her prayer to find her beloved butterfly purse. In those moments, I realized that the sacrifices I made were more than worth it. Watching my children reach hearts in ways that I never could; share Jesus with those who might never warm to an adult; open doors into relationships in school, in town, with neighbors of all ages through their innocent joy and friendliness—these helped me to love the vocation of being a missionary mom.

Now, 23 years later, I have had the opportunity to serve the Lord in 16 countries with my amazing husband, Kevin, and our seven children (now mostly traveling with the youngest five). Those trips have primarily been short-term, two months or less, and have allowed me to rub shoulders with so many saintly missionary moms.

Moms like Karen, who drove hours over the worst roads to help at Mass and conduct communion services in rural Peru, sitting in sweltering chapels for hours to bring Jesus to dozens of eager but neglected Catholics. In the midst of much discomfort, I witnessed the pride on her face as her teenage son donned an alb, smiling and sweating profusely, and served joyfully at the altar.

Or Tami, who, after a full day of preparing food from scratch for her family in challenging conditions, walked across town with all eight of her children to kneel beside a suffering elderly woman and tenderly listen to her story of sickness and pain, then gather her children to pray, little hands held out to the Lord in faith, hope, and solidarity.

I think of Jessie, pushing her stroller uphill on dusty gravel roads, she and her six-year-old carrying heavy bags of groceries; bringing food and comfort to those who are alone, elderly, and infirm; she and her children filling homes with their beautiful voices as they praise the Lord together.

I think of Kree, her home, wherever she is in the world, brimming with board games and laughter. Her smiling children inviting countless youth to their game nights, being a mother not only to her own eight children but to the many who are learning from her what a joyful Christian home and family look like.

Or another Karen, whose tall, uncomplaining teenage sons took turns sitting on her lap on a crowded seven-hour car ride into the mountains, to serve the Lord alongside heroic nuns who are bringing Jesus to people in rural Asia who have never heard of Him before. I think of her and her sons smiling, laughing, and eating porcupine late into the evening.
I think of Brooke, walking into an Asian slum with her six boys. Seeing the boys’ faces light up as they distribute food supplies, and watching them sit with the community as though they were at home.

I watched even the youngest give hugs and listen to stories with love and compassion. I heard their shouts of joy and laughter as a game of soccer developed among kids whom they consider friends.

I remember my own children, spending the night in freezing weather in the Himalayas after a 10-hour bus ride, waking up with smiles, eating unfamiliar food, and riding in the back of a dump truck to accompany a priest to Mass, warmly welcoming all who attended, giggling with local children, and participating joyfully in a foreign language after a long and exhausting day.

There are too many stories to tell: the faces that light up when Penny and her girls stop by to pray with a shut-in friend, the laughter at the children’s center when Teresa and her kids are leading worship, and Mari’s children making space at the table for a hungry neighbor.

I am blessed to be given vocations that I treasure: wife, mother, missionary. Being a missionary mom is a gift within a gift. Not only do I encounter Jesus in the poor, speak His Name to the lost, walk with others into fullness of life in Him, but I have the incredible privilege of watching my kids embrace this life too. Being a missionary mom is the craziest call I have ever loved, and I am eternally grateful to be surrounded by so many holy missionary moms at Family Missions Company.