Dear Baby Miller

Dear Baby Miller,

Hey Cheeky!! I’ve toyed with in-vitro names for you such as “Buddy,” “Munchkin,” “Lil’ Mill,’” “Poopsie”… But given your penchant for kicking incessantly, constantly resting on my bladder and your crazy timing into our lives, I think “Cheeky” is the best name for you!!

Madea, your maternal grandmother (who despises being called a “grandmother”), had a special nickname for us. In the early days of our marriage, she called us “Posh & Becks” in homage to our celebrity status and behaviour. You will be pleased to know however that we are not following in their footsteps in regards to naming you after the place you were conceived: It’s bad enough that Birmingham will be on your birth certificate as place of birth. Mummy hopes that doesn’t cause too much prejudice in your later life.

This is one of mummy’s randomly favourite pictures of us together:

Date Night at the German Market

That’s your daddy, looking like an Abercrombie model advertising a BBQ. One day mummy will show you pictures of what daddy looked like at university and you’ll realise that mummy is a miracle worker, able to see potential behind a mass of ginger curls and baggy clothes. It will also explain to you why it takes so long for the family to get dressed up to go out.

And that’s me, your mummy, the one with the eclectic fashion sense (part hobo-part style icon) and the tendency to consistently bite off more than she can chew. I expect your extra-curricular activities and holiday schedule will reflect that same ethos.

Now, for that rare brief two-minute period of the day where mummy is serious and doesn’t make an inappropriate joke, this photo tells you three things about your new life:

1. There will be adventure.

Whether to this German Market, theme park, Texas, a canal, or even to the shops; there will always be a crazy story, a fun time and an experience that seems so outrageous, your friends will think you’ve made up.

2. We bring light.

We desire to shine brightly, stand strong, be different and draw people to examine their lives in its intended fullness with Father God, out of the darkness.

3. You will need to exercise lots as we LOVE food.

A lot.

But hopefully you’ll be annoying just like us and have an incredible fast metabolism so you can eat whatever you want and stay thin.

See, I told you I can’t go more than two minutes.

Cheeky, you are loved more than you know.

(Regardless of the screams of agony you have heard from me during morning sickness, muscle pain, PGP, potential pee-pee infection, costochondritis, and blood tests mummy has had to endure to keep you established and comfortable in your Hilton-esque abode.)

We can’t wait to meet you.

(and see who wins the bets re: the ginger afro)

And though the house is a mess and we’re a little nervous, we are so very ready and so excited for your arrival. On September 13th. Just in case you were unsure of the date.

Love,

Daddy & Mummy

The ones that keep poking you and shouting loudly when you sleep.

xxx

Ps. If you can sleep through the night from the first week, we’ll buy you a car for your 18th birthday.

Life After Mission

We were asked by St. Germain's Church, one of our biggest supporters throughout our time on Pais, to write an article for their mission newsletter on "Life After Mission": what our experience has been returning as missionaries from another country. We are publishing this article to stay authentic and show our experience, as well as encourage/forewarn those who are moving on from Pais this year as they step out. 

S&S

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After 4-5 years of living and working in America with The Pais Project in the USA, we packed up and moved back to England in September 2011. Much is made of the transition when a missionary first leaves for a country: raising finances to set up a new life, adjusting to culture shock, starting a new position and understanding your new organisation are a few of the enormous tasks to be tackled. Returning from mission on the other hand seems a much simpler affair: typically you are returning to the same country and city you were originally from, with many family and friends surrounding you, thus adjustment should be minimal.

But this is far from the case.

Spending so many years in Arlington, Texas gave us a very strong base of friends who lived close to us, whom we didn’t know what married life was like without.

Weeks were spent emotionally packing, selling and throwing out personal items in order to condense our life into a few suitcases.

We arrived back with no jobs, little finances and no home of our own, with Sebrina moving to a city she had never lived in before and 90 miles from the security of her own family and most of her best friends.

And on top of this all, Steve’s father was suffering with brain cancer.

We were thankful for advice we had before leaving from multiple sources that this transition would undoubtedly be harder than we could anticipate and would test us emotionally and spiritually. But nothing fully prepares you for the actuality of the situation. On reflection, these are our main thoughts on moving back home and starting “Life After Mission.”

You find even the smallest things overwhelming

Banking. Food shopping. Using public transport. Paying bills.

Simple everyday things that are completely different in Texas in comparison to England.

Having acclimatised so well to Texan culture, and despite England being our home, we felt we have to get re-used to everything again. Frustrations often built when we couldn’t quite master or understand the system and we felt like we had to ask for help with the most basic of things. Slowly we got readjusted to the new way of living and found systems that worked for us, but we had to power through the “overwhelmed” feeling.

You question whether you made the best decision

In the Old Testament, when things went badly for an individual (eg. Job) it is assumed that they have sinned in some way: Job’s friends gathered around him begging him to confess some dreadful sin he had done. The grace of Jesus and the nature of the sinful world that we live in shows us today that this is warped theology, but we can’t help but wonder what we did wrong when things don’t go our way. Despite emotional support from family, friends and St Germain’s church, things often spiralled out of our control and we couldn’t settle as well as we assumed we would. The situation was overpowering, creating lots of tears and questioning about whether moving was the best situation. We knew that it had been a prayerful decision over the course of 18 months, but we needed constant reminders of this in order to be confident in the difficult situation we had found ourselves in.

You worry about the work you have left behind

Having spent so much energy, time and love investing in our roles, and more importantly individuals, leaving was hard. We had clearly communicated our departure in advance but still there were difficulties in our transition. Pais had not been able to find a replacement for Steve’s role as quickly as expected. The Co-National director of Pais:USA was suffering an undiagnosed illness thus the leadership was stretched with extra responsibilities. Some students, despite our best efforts, were connected solely to us and not the wider church thus felt too much of a gap when we left. The wonders of the internet meant that we could talk regularly to all those we missed, but sometimes that made it worse, making us more aware of issues that were going on back in Texas. You slowly have to manage not stopping in your care of those in your old place, but not letting that care consume you and make you feel unnecessarily guilty about situations beyond your control. It becomes a time of learning to depend on the fact that Father God is completely sovereign over all the earth.

You question your spiritual purpose now you aren’t officially in “ministry”

The apostle Paul talks of the body of Christ and the role each of us have to play within it. With the status ‘missionary’ you have great ease finding this role as it is placed upon you: you have a job title, responsibilities, people dependent upon you, events to organise, teaching to plan…your spiritual purpose it seems is clearly laid out when you are in ministry. Suddenly, back home after mission, everything changes: Sunday services aren’t dependent upon you, you haven’t got the set people you are meeting, mid-week events occur whether or not you are there to start or finish them. The lack of responsibility and new found freedom can affect people in two different ways. On one side, you could become revitalised and refreshed, feeling free to try something new and enjoy church more because you now have more of a choice about whether or not you attend. On the other hand, it can leave you confused and feeling redundant, unneeded and unsure of where or if to serve. Both of us have felt both sides of this coin, but are slowly moving into a place of exploring what new things await us in regards to our ministry. One of the great blessings for both of us has been suddenly thrust into a work environment filled with different faiths and we have gladly relished this opportunity which is not afforded to you when you work entirely in a Christian team.

‘Life After Mission’ is a mess of emotions, thoughts and practicalities. At times it can feel that you will never be settled back in, or be able to stop these conflicting emotions. Slowly though, you realise that there is no such thing as “life after mission” – we are all called to a certain place, at a certain time, for a certain purpose, and there are people in our spheres of influence crying out for us to reach out to them, to see them as our mission field, right on our very doorsteps. The thing that people struggle most with in life are transitions, and moving from a different country and completely changing job and responsibility are two transitions combined that have the potential to break an unsupported individual or family. Our prayer, is that Father God will lead all of us to be more aware of those who are experiencing transitions around us, and to find practical ways to support them as they traverse their new life.