13 Years on the Mission Field

I can hardly believe that today is 13 years since we arrived on Dutch soil as missionaries to the people of Holland. I was 7-years old. Being that young I didn’t fully grasp that the preparations taking place around me--the flurry of activity, the packing of our belongings--meant we were really leaving everything I had ever known. I still remember the day I arrived home from our church’s Christian school and found men from our church loading the huge container in our driveway with all of our furniture and boxes of our things. I still remember what dress I was wearing (that’s a girl for you, ha). I remember finding Mom and Oma sitting on the living room floor tenderly packing our old Dutch clock. All this was new and exciting to me; I didn’t realize that life, as I knew it, was about to change forever.

November 7, 1995.

It was decided that our grandparents (my dad’s family) would fly with us to Holland. It was their homeland (my dad was born in Holland and lived there until he was 12-years-old; my mom’s father is also Dutch). Everyone in our home church, Southeast Bible Baptist, came to say good bye to us at the airport. I was excited, a little overwhelmed, and suddenly feeling a new emotion--fear. I was beginning to understand that my family and I were leaving. We were going to some country far away, and I wouldn’t see those I loved for a very long time. My best friend/cousin Jason and I hugged each other long and hard. Hot tears streaked our cheeks and our faces were red and swollen from crying so hard. Saying goodbye to Jason, my lifelong buddy, was the hardest thing I had ever done. Goodbye. In the next 13 years that would become a word familiar to each one of us. The sorrow of parting wouldn’t get much easier, but the intense ache would lessen with time, and God’s grace would be sufficient to carry us through.

I remember the first time we stepped foot in our new house. Dad had gone ahead months earlier to rent a house and do some work to make it livable for us. Thanks to my dad’s aunt and uncle, we had some lawn furniture and cots; the container full of our belongings was on a ship and wouldn’t arrive for several weeks. I remember how bare the house seemed. It echoed. There were no curtains in the windows; three potted house plants sat on the kitchen windowsill, shielding us from the prying eyes of neighbors and mothers who walked past our house to bring their children to school. I remember hiding behind one of the plants and curiously peeking at people. They looked just like I did, but they spoke a language that sounded strange to my ears. I remember one day Lydia heard a little girl crying outside. She went and told my dad, who asked what the little girl was saying. Lydia shrugged and replied, “I don’t know. She was crying in Dutch.” =)

Our first night in Holland we walked through the dark night and fog as thick as pea soup to a nearby snack bar to buy our dinner. Already I was realizing that this country was so different from America. We were starting a 13-year-long journey through the unknown, battling culture shock, homesickness, and loneliness.

Our container arrived on November 23rd, which was Lydia’s birthday as well as Thanksgiving Day. Mom introduced my dad’s aunt and uncle to the traditional pumpkin pie. A miracle happened that day. We only had a limited time to unload our things before the container would be hauled away. We knew virtually nobody in this foreign country. My dad was the only one strong enough to lift heavy furniture. Who would help us? We knelt down together on the living room floor and prayed. The answer to our prayers arrived when a group of men from the Salvation Army volunteered to unload our belongings--our only link to home. God came through for us!!! That was the first of many miracles God would do to show His love to the Huussen family and prove to us that we were in the very center of His perfect will. As we sat down that night to the Thanksgiving meal Mom had prepared, we were grateful to be together as a family, though our hearts ached with homesickness. That first holiday away from family and friends was hard…and harder on Mom than the rest of us. Every “first” was hard, but it would slowly get easier.

During those first few months we worked hard to get our house in order. Our only means of transportation was the bus, since we didn’t have a car, and there was nobody to baby-sit us children, so we went everywhere Mom and Dad did. I remember riding buses so packed with people that there was standing room only, and at times it felt like the bus was going to tip. Poor Mom had her hands full watching over three young children while carrying groceries and window shades and other bulky house supplies. I honestly don’t know how my parents managed it. Only by God’s grace!

Our days were filled with activity as we worked on the house, but Sunday was our day of rest. It was Sunday that homesickness hit the hardest. There was no church we could go to, and there were no Christians to fellowship with. For all we knew we were the only Christians in all of Holland. We felt totally isolated. Our Sundays consisted of dressing in our Sunday best, Daddy would play the guitar while we sang hymns, and we would listen to preaching tapes. That was our Sunday service. Silent tears of homesickness coursed Mom’s cheeks and dripped into the sudsy dishwater as she washed dishes and remembered what Sundays used to be like.

Looking back, I would be lying to say that those first years were easy. Fact is, they were hard. Because we were from the States, and especially because people knew we were Christians, we endured ridicule or were totally ignored by our neighbors. Playing in our backyard, the neighborhood children would throw stones at us and steal our toys. (Thank God for Papa, who put up a fence around our yard!) Mom grew used to having no close friends to confide in and go shopping with. I remember one night when I quietly walked into the bathroom as Mom was shaking a sheet out of the bathroom window. Outside I heard the laughter of one of our neighbors as she came home from spending time with one of her girlfriends. Instinctively I knew the stab of loneliness Mom was feeling. She turned around, and we just looked at each other. We didn’t need words to express our hearts. I hugged her, and I think we both cried some. I remember many times when Mom would sit me down on her lap and we would cry together. Our mutual homesickness drew us to each other. One blessing that came from our move to Holland is that our family was thrown together. There was nobody else. We only had each other. I thank God for this! Today I can say that the members of my family are my best friends. I wouldn’t have it any other way!

One of my favorite songs is “I Could Not Do Without Thee,” and one line that always speaks to my heart says, “Weakness will be power if leaning hard on Thee.” Many times in our lives God has to take us out of our comfort zone and bring us to the end of ourselves and our human resources so that we can experience the supernatural power of God’s strength--a source that is never depleted. Throughout these 13 years we have been forced by difficult circumstances to lean hard on God. When the government was threatening us because my parents chose to home school, God intervened miraculously. The Lord woke up my dad during the night and told him what to write. He sent the letter off, and we have never heard about it since. Our neighbor lady, who happened to work in the education department, informed my dad that the woman who was giving us problems about home schooling went insane and lost her job. Don’t stand in God’s way!!! It’s a dangerous place to be!

There are so many stories I could tell you about God’s wonderful provision and protection for our family. Now, 13 years, two churches, and countless converted souls later, I can say we have learned a lot, and mostly just by plunging in and doing what needed to be done. Of course we have made mistakes along the way, but we serve a gracious and merciful God. For that I am thankful!

To think God has chosen our family to serve the people of Holland. What an honor and a privilege it is! Sure, living on the mission field is a struggle, but for every trial we have faced, God has given us unlimited blessings and an outpouring of grace to get us through. Never pity a missionary! Living in the center of God’s will is the very best place to be!!! If I could rewind my life back to 13 years ago and start over, I would have to say that I’d do it all again!!!

I want to share a poem I wrote several months back. I think it goes well with this post.

God has blessed me with many friends so dear.
Most live far away, while others are very near.
Across the great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean,
Distance cannot quench my heart’s deep emotion.

I’ve a special love for each person in my heart,
Even though we find ourselves living apart.
The years pass us by and much older we grow;
Many things have changed, but this I still know:

God works all these things together for good,
Even though at times I have not understood--
The loneliness, the longing that goes unfulfilled,
While the work of the Lord we are trying to build.

The sacrifice of my desires I am willing to make;
I know the highest goals of the ministry are at stake.
This country, spiritually desolate, for laborers does cry;
These people, so precious to God, we cannot deny!

We’re in it for the long haul, and that gives me a thrill.
For the Gospel of Jesus Christ we’ll stand steadfast still.
Though some would persuade us that we should go home,
The choice isn’t ours to make; it’s up to God alone.

I know that it’s hard on our friends and family, too.
We know the pain, for we suffer as they do.
But we have a blessed assurance of reunion one day;
Separation and tears will never factor in, nor dismay.

Glorious day of redemption, I see it drawing nearer!
I feel His peace within my soul as Heaven grows still clearer.
We’ll be together forever in that wondrous Home on high.
And sorrows we once experienced, to them we’ll wave good-bye.

We’ll rejoice for all eternity as the faithful and obedient.
What sometimes seemed like fruitless effort was oh so expedient!
The sacrifices we made on earth will suddenly seem so small,
As God’s praise is poured upon us because we answered the call.

And if God should ask of you today,
“Would you go to a land so far away?
Would you your will to Mine bend?”
What would you answer Him, my friend?

P.S. If you have any questions I would be happy to answer them! =)