The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me: your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever. —Ps 138:8

How grateful I am for the rich heritage I have as a TCK. The more life stories I hear from American and cross- cultural friends, the more I realize that each of us has a unique set of life experiences that shapes our attitudes, values, hopes, and choices. In the insecurities of my changes and losses, God gave me insights along the way that anchored my heart.

My parents went to Africa in 1945, just after WWII. I was born four years later. From birth to my ninth year, normal life was on a mission property about 70 miles from the nearest town. I’m the second of five daughters, each having our own TCK story. I learned to speak chiShangaan and English together, played with local children, and learned their games and culture as well as my own. I loved adventure and the outdoors. I loved the people around me. It was in these formative years, during the daily devotions that started our days, that I became aware of God in my life and that I, myself, needed saving grace. Love and security were instilled in me through daily good-night kisses and prayers and the songs that we sang of the sheltering care of the Lord.

Because my parents didn’t want to send me to a government boarding school where they had no say in values, faith, or influence, my mother taught me through third grade using an American curriculum. The Evangelical Alliance Mission had a children’s home for their children in Salisbury, the capital of the country. They accepted other missionary kids to live there when there was space. I was accepted the year I turned nine and lived there for the next seven years, attending public school.

I was social and adapted well to being surrounded by people all the time. I was flexible enough to completely fit in. Dorm life had its own culture, but the two biggest lessons I quickly learned were that I had to take responsibility for myself and be flexible. I tested every boundary, had my own attitudes checked, and always found ways to have fun. Music and sports were the main after-school activities. We were in touch with family each week, via the radio and letters.

Although living at the home was the better plan for my education, my first year away from home was traumatic. I’ll never forget watching my family vehicle drive away as I waved and wept. Fortunately for me, my older sister Peggy already had a year’s experience living apart from the family, and she was a great comfort to me, not only at the children’s home but also in the school yard. Everything was so foreign to me, and I couldn’t understand my teacher’s unfamiliar accent. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. At recess time, I would search for Peggy and sob until the school bell called us to go back to class. Fortunately, by the end of my first year, I had caught up with the rest of the students.

Though I missed my family, I knew they were where God called them to be, and that he would take care of me. I attribute my spiritual formation to the continuation of what God had begun in me at an early age. Our days at the children’s home started with time for personal reading and prayer, and ended with group devotions, including singing, Bible stories, and time to pray for each other. We were given opportunities to teach younger children at the local church and often sang at churches in the area.

As a teenager, I realized that God was real and important to me. I discovered I needed to read and understand the Bible myself. There were specific inner spiritual crossroads that steered me closer to following God, especially as an adventure-seeking teen. The Scriptures became very high in my value system and have become my plumb line in a changing world.

My family left Rhodesia to return to America soon after my high school final exams. There had been many hellos and farewells in my life. It was just a part of life that we had to adjust to, but I left as a confident teenager, with farewell closure. The transition to American life took years. I looked like an American, but I didn’t think like an American, laugh at American humor, or understand cultural cues. Differences cause insecurity, and each of us finds personal coping skills to deal with that.

When I returned from Africa to America—just out of high school, at the age of 17—I knew my story was different from those around me, and I expected others to be interested in it. It wasn’t until I learned to ask about their stories that a larger picture emerged, placing me in a beautiful global mosaic. The more I got to know others, the more I realized that although my life story had some significant differences from theirs, everyone had life-shaping events or circumstances that were unique. In some instances, they had life far more difficult than I did. It solidified my gratitude for the heritage given to me. I learned we’re more the same than different, and we all have the same heart- felt needs of unconditional love and significance.

In college, I gravitated to other MKs and international students because it seemed we had an unwritten but mutually understood language. One issue I discussed with an MK friend was the feeling that we didn’t really fit either the childhood culture we had just left behind or the American culture we had entered. Our conclusion became an anchor for me: We were really looking forward to being citizens of heaven.

College was the most difficult time in adjusting to American life. My parents returned to Africa just as I entered my sophomore year, a continent away, and it took a minimum of 21 days to receive an answer to a question. That forced me to make lifetime decisions on my own. But God was there leading me one step at a time. He provided all my practical financial and residential needs. He gave me lifelong promises that haven’t failed yet.

Now I can look back and see that God was always there, starting my spiritual formation right on the mission property, with my parents and the other adult missionaries who lived out their faith as I watched. My parents’ decision to have me live at the missionary children’s home continued my growth in Jesus with healthy daily spiritual rhythms. The hymns and Scripture memorization from childhood were both comforting and directional in college and young adulthood. The opportunities to share our faith, in music and testimony, in various locations gave a sense of worth and purpose.

One of life’s greatest anchors has been the man God clearly led me to marry. He shared my desire to make my life count for the Lord. It wasn’t a surprise when we were led to join Wycliffe Bible Translators, where we served for 35 years. That environment deepened my sense of global mosaic.

In retirement, we still find opportunities to be involved in the lives of others, at church and in our neighborhood. I find joy in making friends among those who were also born in a different “home” country. I love to hear how God is shaping their lives right here, and I eagerly await the moment when we all drop off earthly identity labels and are simply known as God’s chosen and dearly loved kids, and citizens of heaven.

“Surely goodness and mercy [have followed] me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever” (Ps 23:6).