This is HARD: Why Being a Missionary is Tough Stuff

Yes, this is hard.

I want to be able to say to people that being a missionary is amazing. People ask me how things are going and I say, "Good! Great! We're doing really well" and for the most part, this is actually true. We are doing well overall. Being a "missionary" is not really the hard part. There are so many other hard parts that I don't even know where to begin.

First, I want to emphasize that we do not doubt the Lord's calling for us to serve in Haiti. I am so thankful that even through the ups and downs we still feel confident that we are EXACTLY where the Lord wants us to be.

Has it been easy? Absolutely not! I don't think I've cried so much in my entire life. For those that know me, they will say this is a rare thing. I'm not a particularly mushy person. I've been through some tough stuff in my 42 years. Nothing has quite brought me to my knees as quickly as the mission field has. But, I guess that's really the point isn't it? To our knees is where the Lord calls us to be.

Still....it's not really fun when it feels like we've been shoved down against our will. Yes, I know we signed up for this, but somehow it seems like I wasn't quite aware of what I was raising my hand for. I think many of us feel this same way about adoption. If we had known all the details in advance, there is likely no way we would have raised our hand for some of this stuff.

I find myself in this humbling position once again: knowing the Lord called us to HARD, but not feeling entirely prepared for it. I will admit that there has been more then one moment where I have felt like saying to the Lord, "Really? Haven't we learned this already?" Or even "Haven't I suffered enough?" But then I realize, I'm not suffering to the degree so many people all over the world suffer daily. I tell myself to pull up my big girl pants and stop whining and then it seems like one more thing happens again.

I will outline some of the HARD things and no, it's not been the lack of amenities, reduced creature comforts, the instability/danger in the country, or even the lack of $$ that really has thrown us for a loop.

The primary HARD that I struggle with is the lack of Control.

I have a type A personality. I am relatively quiet and regulated, but I am also aggressive by nature. This means I lean towards being a control freak. I certainly can roll with the unexpected and I tend to thrive under pressure, but I have an underlying controlling nature. This is partly why I tend to be in leadership, management, director, or owner positions. I will be the first to admit that I am not a good employee. I know this about myself. I continue to work on it. The Lord has really worked in me over the years to correct some of my spunkiness. I am a work in progress! I am told I am softer then I used to be. Still...I'm hardly a pushover. I can be pushed some, but likely sooner vs later I will push back.

Now enter the mission field and boy have we been pushed. There was so much pushing going on from multiple directions that I began to feel quite bruised. The pushing that was happening to our kids was probably the hardest to take. It's tough to see your kids pushed to the ground in various ways. I'm not going to expand on the details in this particular post, but I will say we were not prepared for the kind of attacks that would come our way in regard to our kids, in regard to homeschooling, in regard to adoption, and in regard to a range of things that I suppose we should have expected, but weren't entirely prepared for.

We are a unique bunch. There are all kinds of opinions floating around about the fact that we do have so many children. For the most part, people are incredibly accepting. But....believe it or not, we are not always accepted. Generally speaking, I think we simply confuse people. There is the idea that we already have our mission field with so many kids. Why would we then proceed to do our children the injustice of bringing them "back" to Haiti? All I can say about this is GRRR..... (I try to not literally say that and instead explain how the Lord has called us) as they walk away in confusion shaking their heads.

I had heard that attacks would come from where we least expect it. I was even told those attacks would likely come from other believers. I took that information and stored it in my brain, but I had no idea how true this would be! I had no idea how HARD this would be. I do not even know how to describe what we have experienced except to say it was and still is to some extent incredibly painful.

But the Lord has been there with us and has made it abundantly clear that some changes needed to be made for the welfare of our entire family. It has been a really good, but change is hard. I am amazed by the doors that have been opened and how clear the Lord made many of the details. On the other hand, we can feel pulled in multiple directions when we move into the realm of Plan B and Plan C. There is a ton of pressure to know exactly what we are doing, but I will be incredibly honest in saying that I do not know "exactly" what the Lord has in store for us. We simply take one step forward in confidence that we are walking with the Lord. It can seem like a long winding road with no end in sight. We do not know exactly how it all works out, but that's the incredible thing about the Lord: He asks us to step out in faith. Where would faith come in if everything was clearly outlined before us? 

So, what happens when multiple elements come at us that are out of our control? For us personally, sometimes we have allowed fear to creep in. As many of you know, I'm not a particularly fearful person. It has even been pointed out to me by my oldest son that nothing scares me. Hmm....maybe I put up a good front or simply maybe less scares me the older I get. The longer I have been walking with the Lord, the less I am afraid of details and people, and the more I am afraid of not following the Lord or hearing the Lord clearly.

"You shall walk after Jehovah your God, 

and you shall fear Him. And you shall keep His commandments, 

and you shall hear His voice, and you shall serve Him, 

and you shall cleave to Him." ~Deuteronomy 13:4

In this whole journey, somehow I have found myself captured by fear. This is unique to me. I do not generally have fear of danger around us even though people are being pulled out of vehicles at gunpoint and robberies and unrest surround us. The primary fear that holds me, is the fear of not being there. I know this involves me questioning God's plan or maybe me questioning hearing God's plan accurately. Does God really want me to leave my aging mother in the USA to serve in another country? And then I am reminded by scripture:

"And everyone who has left houses 

or brothers or sisters or father or mother 

or wife or children or fields 

for my sake will receive a hundred times as much 

and will inherit eternal life"~Matthew 19:29

So, we are actually called to leave? hmm...This is tough stuff to wrap our minds around. And then in Luke, Jesus outlines The Cost of Following Jesus:

"As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, 

I will follow you wherever you go." Jesus replied, 

"Foxes have dens and birds have nests, 

but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." 

He said to another man, "Follow me." But he replied, 

"Lord, first let me go and bury my father." Jesus said to him, 

"Let the dead bury their own dead, 

but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God."  

Still another said, "I will follow you, Lord:

but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family." 

Jesus replied, "No one who puts a hand to the plow 

and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God." ~Luke 9:57-62

Wow! This is tough stuff. Knowing it and believing it, is entirely different then the reality of living it. Leaving others that we love behind is one of the hardest things in our walk with the Lord.

I was in Atlanta a few weeks ago and could not return to Haiti for quite a few days due to the unrest. The family was "safe" but I could not get to them. This is a humbling experience and really showed me how much faith I was placing in things I could control instead of elements in God's control. I took comfort in the fact that I was just a plane ride away the same as we may place comfort if we are in the same state, same city, or 10 minutes away even though most accidents happen within a mile of our home. Thankfully, we had many prayer warriors praying for us during this process and I did eventually get home safely.

But then the fear crept in again. This time, it was the fear that I wouldn't be in the States. I realized clearly that I had not fully "left others behind" when I went to serve the Lord.  I came back to Oregon after 6 months and visited my aunt who is in a care center, my mom who was also under full time care, and my grown children (one of whom is developmentally delayed and autistic). Thoughts were drifting through my mind: What if I wasn't there when my mother passed away? She looked much older than when I saw her six months before. And what about Phuong? Yes, she wanted to be in the States and our oldest son was doing a good job caring for her, but it was like leaving our 7 year old behind even though she was 20 years old. Somehow leaving elderly and children behind was a tougher reality to me then leaving grown children, family members, and friends that could provide for themselves. It probably didn't help that Phuong cried each time we left. That ripped me up....

Releasing our grown children is tough. Leaving mother and children to serve is tough stuff, but it is what we are called to do. God has called us to move forward, looking ahead to what He has called us to instead of looking behind to the things that He has handled. Trusting in Him that He has it all covered is HARD! After writing this, the fear of not being there did in fact happen. My mom passed away the day after I returned to Haiti. My oldest son was there and Phuong was was there. She died in the front yard. Joseph had to call 911. He did CPR on Grandma Mei Mei. The paramedics tried to revive her, but determined it was too late as they were taking her to the ambulance. I was on the phone with the paramedics as they were trying to revive her. After 15 minutes, they called her time of death.

Two weeks later, it's still a surreal feeling: being an orphan. Not having either of your parents on this earth. I know I will see my mother again in heaven someday, but it is one of those things that I don't think you are ever prepared for. 

I realize logically there is nothing I could have done had I been there. Joseph did an amazing job being there for Grandma. He also did the best he could to protect Phuong from witnessing Grandma's death. When she stopped breathing, he was able to have Phuong go downstairs and listen to music and not really see the whole ordeal.

Throughout it all, we can see the Lord's hand in this process. I am thankful I was able to see my mom one last time. She passed away on Wednesday, March 4th. I bathed her and sat with her the Monday before she died. For those that do not know, we had been caring for my mom for many, many years. She never fully recovered from battling breast cancer 15 years ago. Her continual health struggles was one of the main reasons we did not go on the mission field sooner. Eventually, the Lord gave us peace about moving to Haiti and looking forward instead of looking behind. He gave us peace that she was in God's hands, not our own. She was in fact, a missionary kid herself. Her parents had left others behind in order to serve the Lord in China. Our oldest son Joseph had been caring for grandma for the past 8 years. Our incredible friend Brenda had been coming in and bathing her twice a week and faithfully taking her to the senior center over the years. She really was in good hands and I know it gave her peace to know that we were following in her parents footsteps and especially that we were following our calling to serve the Lord.

My mom will be greatly missed, but I am thankful she is now resting with the Lord in heaven. She was ready to go home. I had not seen her since August. It was like she was waiting to see me before she passed away. I was blessed by the ability to return to Oregon and then was blessed by the ability to return to the family when the news came. I was able to see my family and be there with them when they were processing the loss of grandma. I was able to hug Baby before leaving again (this would be our miracle Naomi who really at almost 5 years old should not be called "Baby", but she is likely our last baby and relishes the role of the youngest). I think back on my grandparents and the sacrifices they made. Each of them did not hear of their parents death until weeks or even months later. There was no option for them to return. They came back every seven years, literally on a slow boat from China, zigzagging across the ocean in order to avoid missiles during WWII.

Our great friends the LaTrays were able to stream the memorial service into Haiti.  Ron and the kids, were able to watch the service. I was able to catch the first flight out of the country. After a grueling 27 hours, I made it back to Oregon safely. My cousins Jennie and Dan hired a camera person to document the service. They had offered to try to fly Ron in, but it was more then just finances to get him to the states. With some of the unrest, I think it would have been harder to have him Stateside than having him in Haiti with the bulk of the family.

Reverend Cloyse Drake, who is the pastor that married Ron and I and also officiated my dad's funeral was able to serve at my mom's memorial service. My aunt Esther came out from Indiana and my cousin Amelia and her family flew up from California. My mom's oldest sister was also able to watch the memorial online, since her health is not very good to travel. Technology today is simply amazing! Ron's sister Richelle and her daughter Jamie literally dropped everything to help out. My sister did an incredible job with the brochure for the service. All of our grown kids in the states were able to make it to the service. Joseph has been a rock, but please pray for him! Joseph has been caring for grandma "mei mei" for the past 8+ years.

Thank you to everyone who has supported us through this loss. Your prayers are greatly appreciated! I'll attach the 7 minute video highlight of the service:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNTl0j1ioCA&feature=youtu.be

Thank you, Friends

Post from David Sheppard (3rd oldest Sheppard)
_________________________________________________________________________________

I cried today.

This afternoon, I plugged Julia's computer into the TV, connected it to the internet using a dongle, and went to the website Mr. LaTray emailed to Mom to view a live streaming of Grandma's memorial service. The rest of the Sheppards came into the living room and settled into their seats when I called out, "it's starting" and watched the TV making comments about who was attending like how tall Luke was getting and how wonderfully Mahala played the piano. Then the service started and Pastor Cloyse started with a prayer. Help us to cope with the grief that always surrounds the loss of a loved one. Next, he told the history of Grandma's life from her missionary childhood to her long battle with cancer. Both Mom and Aunt Esther gave testimonies on how great Grandma's impact was on their lives. Then Joseph played a slideshow to the song, "I Can Only Imagine". This was the point where I cried.

That slideshow with those pictures was beautiful sorrow and I couldn't contain my tears. Why should I feel this way? Grandma is happier now than she has ever been before and we should all be happy for her! Yet, I couldn't contain a tear as I watched the pictures from Grandma's past flash by and I thought about how wonderful she was. At that moment I was glad we all were able to observe the service from our home in Haiti. Grandma talked about China quite often and her experiences and stories about her father is what led me to study Chinese at college. I was talking with her last August about my plans to move to China as a missionary. She asked which part of China I would go to and how I would get there. She was always interested in the well-being of her family and friends.

Pastor Cloyse, as always, preached brilliantly and we are very thankful to him for that. As he mentioned, Cloyse has been a friend of the family for many years. He was the pastor at the church where Mom and Dad got saved. He performed Mom and Dad's wedding.  He was also the pastor who performed Grandpa's memorial service 10 years ago. We are glad God sent this man in our lives. Since the early 90s Pastor Cloyse has been saying to us, "Trust in God and follow His path". It's always great to be reminded of the love and magnificence of God. Thank you, Cloyse....

After the service and the final prayer, there was relief. Grandma is gone but not forever. We will see her again in heaven and we should be happy she no longer has to imagine what it is like to stand in God's presence. She can now sing Amazing Grace to the Lord of All!

Finally, I'd like to say a big "Thank you" to everyone who attended the funeral. I will try to mention you all by name here but, like Cloyse at the beginning of the service acknowledged about his ability to pronounce names, I must admit my memory and attentiveness isn't good enough to name everyone and therefore ask for your forgiveness if I forget to mention you or spell your name wrong.

Thank you to the Bryants: Aunt Laura, Uncle Jason, Tiffani, Kylee. It was great to see you and please know that you are in our prayers.

Thank you Cooks:  Mrs. Cook, Mahala, and Luke. The music was beautiful and we were glad to see you.

Thank you LaTrays: Mr and Mrs LaTray, Jacob (nice beard), Emily, Hannah, Sarah, and Jessica. The video feed worked wonderfully and your singing was beautiful.

Thank you to: Jennie and Dan Eddy, Uncle Jack, Randy, and Pat Shine.
Thank you: Amelia, Michael, Emily Pryor-Slade, and Aunt Esther.
Thank you to: Aunt Richelle and Uncle Mark, Caleb, Jamie, and Grandpa Ron.
Thank you: the Colvins and the Balls and the Fesslers. You've always been great friends and I'm glad you could be at the memorial.
Thank you: Pat Drake, Mike Bryant, Mariano, Rick,
And Thank You to everyone who is reading this post for your continued support. Please continue to pray for us.
God bless you!

~DWS

Today I'm the Bug

I'm back in Oregon due to my mother's death. Although my mother was in poor heath for many years and battled breast cancer for 15 years, it's still a shock. Some things you are simply never ready for.

I felt the need to get a break from all the details and somehow got it in my mind that I would get my bike out and ride around a little bit. As some of you know, I had an accident years ago where I was hit by a drunk driver in a 4x4 truck while riding my bike. Ever since that unfortunate event, the bike and I have had somewhat of a love/hate relationship. I love the "idea" of riding, but I hate the reality of fear and anxiety that often creeps up in me when cars are zooming by. It's kinda an odd thing since I've been through many more significant traumatic events in my life that haven't had near the impact. There was something about being hit from behind and not being in control that really did a number on me.

Anyway.....I told myself to get over it already. It happened over 5 years ago. You are in fact a "trauma specialist".  Do some prolonged exposure and get back on the bike. So...I started searching around for my shoes, which were no where to be found. My husband sent a message saying maybe they were behind the door in the old room. Hmm...searched there. Searched everywhere. I was about ready to give up and then I moved a pile of junk and found the old box that I actually purchased the shoes in. Low and behold the shoes were inside the box. So, I had my shoes.  I put on my running pants. My padded butt pants were ripped off in the accident, but I didn't suppose I was going to ride for very long anyway. I grabbed a jacket, my license, and a credit card just in case I had to stop and pay for something. I had it in my mind I would go to the funeral home to pick up the death certificate.

BUT.....for some reason I hadn't thought about the fact that the bike had been sitting in the garage for years and the tires were flat. That's ok. My oldest son Joseph said he could help blow up the tires with the air compressor. So, we went out to the garage confident that we could tackle this small task. It didn't quite work that way. After messing around with the little valve, we couldn't get it to work. I tried to make some calls into Haiti, which further frustrated me because I couldn't get through with the poor internet connection we have been experiencing lately. But, when I was about to give up, I received a text from my husband explaining the catch on how to blow up the lovely tires.

We put some air in the tires and really had no idea what we were doing. This hadn't historically been my "job" back in the day when I attempted to be a bike rider. I just thought we could pump them up as much as possible and stop before we thought they would pop. Then, on second thought, we let some of the air out, for fear maybe they would pop as I was riding down the road.

So, armed with just about nothing. I started to get on the bike. I kept thinking.....something isn't right. I think I'm missing something. I was patting my butt thinking it must be the padding that I think I'm missing, but I've put on weight since I rode last, so I should be fine. Then I realized, didn't I used to ride with a helmet? hmm...might be a good idea. In fact, I think it may actually be a law or guideline or something that people actually follow in Oregon compared to Haiti where laws are kinda more like suggestions.

But...I had no idea where the helmet was. Joseph thought they were under the lean-to in the backyard, so I went back there and did in fact find two helmets. Geez....we have 14 kids and there are 2 helmets left? That's good at least. It means maybe we got rid of some junk before we moved to Haiti. There was one that was a pink toddler helmet that I didn't think would quite fit on my big head. The other looked ok, so I dusted the cobwebs off of it and strapped it on my head.

During the whole event of getting ready for the bike ride, I had many moments of thinking I should simply go back inside and eat a gallon of ice cream on the couch. But...I pushed through and told myself that it would be quite healthy to get out there in the sun and cold during this whole ordeal of my mother's death. I hopped on the bike and began down the road. I was actually feeling quite good. I passed my mom's old house (she originally lived 4 houses from us when we began caring for her many years ago). Later, she moved into the "big house" where I grew up and where the rest of us lived for years. I felt ok about passing the house. I had good memories of the many times I either ran or rode by the house and would stop in and see her. This was back in the day when I was halfway motivated to get in shape and could only force myself to do that by signing up for a marathon or the Seattle to Portland bike event.

Unfortunately, the injury happened before I ever was able to participate in the STP. It's still lingering in the back of my mind that maybe someday I may do that or a triathlon or some such thing.  Anyway...I was riding and breathing and not crying, so I felt like that was a success. Somehow that success was too good to be true. I had noticed on the short one block excursion that it must be garbage day. There's all kinds of garbage cans and yard debris bins on the sidewalks. Some of them were actually partially in the street. As I was riding by, one green garbage can started sliding out in front of me. I actually thought, "Really, Lord. Really?" It wasn't a very God honoring moment. I was having a hard enough time staying up let alone dodging objects coming my way.

But...I missed the rolling green can only to hit the curb with my wheel. That was ok. It was a close call. The stupid part was that I completely forgot that my feet were clipped in on the bike. I went to put my foot down and crashed to the ground. ugh...ugh...ugh..

I felt like Joseph two days ago: going though the motions only to realize that I had forgotten an important element in the process. He's been caring for my mom, his grandma mei mei, for the past 8 years. He got up to fix her oatmeal and realized while he was walking to her room that she wasn't there anymore. hmm....This is sad stuff. I remember after my dad died that there were many times that I would think about picking up the phone and calling him or telling him something only to realize that I could no longer do that.

There were some teenage kids walking by as well as some construction people that tried to be compassionate in the whole me-falling-on-my-face incident. Somehow it made it worse that there was an audience to my stupidity, but nothing was really damaged in the process except my ego.

I picked myself up and went around the block. I got to Glencoe Road and turned back toward the house. The whole time I felt like I had the angel and the devil sitting on each shoulder. One was telling me to just go back to the house. You gave it a good try. You're 40 something years old. Your mom just died. Just GO HOME. The other was telling me to buck up and accomplish your task. By this point I felt the tears and that made me even more frustrated with myself. I've been an off-and-on water faucet since I heard the news. Actually, it was that way even before I heard the news. I had started a post about that before my mom even died. Maybe I'll get back to that post about conflicted feelings in the near future.

As many of you know, I'm a stubborn person. I'm ultra aggressive. Possibly a bit on the obsessive compulsive side. There was no way I was going to go home and sit there and cry and eat bon bons. I sucked it up and rode past the house towards the funeral home. The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful. There were some trucks that passed me, but I didn't flip out and get off the bike. There were times where I used to have full blown panic attacks when a truck would pass by me. Maybe I'm low enough that my life or death really isn't entering my mind today. Either way, it was a blessing that I felt ok.

I picked up the death certificate and road my little behind home. Ok...maybe I wasn't the bug. It's kinda a toss up on whether I was the windshield or the bug today. I'll say I was actually the windshield because even though I have felt squashed on that ride and within the past few days, I'm still moving along.

I appreciate everyone's thoughts and prayers through this process!

Please Pray for Us

Blog Post from David Sheppard (3rd oldest in the Sheppard Family)

I'm writing to tell you about a family tragedy. I ask for your prayers as we struggle through this sad time. Wednesday, we received a phone call from our older brother Joseph who lives in Oregon with Grandma and Phoung. He was the bearer of bad news. Grandma had passed away.

Mom left for Oregon Thursday morning and will be tasked with arranging everything necessary to properly address this loss. Aunt Rachel took a couple of days off to help Mom while Phoung went to stay with Aimee (a close friend) for a few days as the family adjusts.

Here I would like to say a few things about my grandmother.

Growing up, I remember always having a loving and helping grandmother. Grandma was always available to help with the kids throughout the years. Helping and teaching others was a common theme in Grandma's life. Grandma was a missionary kid who grew up in China during the '30s and '40s. After moving to Oregon she became a beloved school teacher until she retired. She also helped many of us learn how to read and she always cared about us and frequently asked us how we were and how she could help. She loved to talk about her missionary childhood and one of my favorite stories was about her pet rabbit in a culture where rabbits were simply food and never pets. 

Grandma greatly influenced our desire to become missionaries. For years we had talked about moving to China or Haiti, but we were never sure it was the right decision. Some people questioned what that would be like for all of the children. So we talked to Grandma and decided that if she could leave her friends and family behind in the days before the internet and before commercial airlines, then there is no reason we can't also.

The cliche thing to say is, "she's in a better place". The good news is that's true. She was a believer and she is now with her father in heaven. We just ask for your prayers to help us find closure and ease the grief we feel from this loss.

Thank You,

~DWS