Amy Medina | Amy Medina

Imagine you got this December newsletter from a missionary:

Hey friends!

It’s been a great year! We’re really thankful for the amazing vacation we took in Thailand. We also got to attend a really fantastic conference for the whole family in South Korea. We got to go skiing!

Our eldest daughter is excelling in soccer and hoping for a college scholarship, while our youngest continues to spend most of her time playing the violin. She even was invited to play in an elite quartet this year.

Please enjoy the attached pictures of our favorite furry friends, Max and Buddy, who bring our family so much joy!

Love,

Your missionaries

If we would feel uneasy reading this newsletter, we need to ask ourselves a few questions: Are we upset that these missionaries took nice vacations, bragged about their kids, or showed us pictures of something as mundane as their dogs? If so, why should missionaries be on such a higher spiritual plane that they aren’t allowed to write about these things?

But that’s not my point today. I’ve written about that elsewhere.

The bigger concern with this newsletter–and rightly so–is that we expect missionaries to not just talk about vacations and kids and dogs, but to give some kind of report on their ministry. For people who have been called, sent, and supported, you expect to hear about how they are reaching people with the gospel.

How We Are Adjusting

By Amy Medina

On December 5, 2020

In Re-Entry to America, Third Culture Kids

People ask me quite often, “How are you all adjusting?” and I kind of want to say, “As best as can be expected. How are you adjusting?” Because really, we all are adjusting right now, aren’t we?

An article at A Life Overseas talked about how adjusting to this pandemic feels a lot like culture shock, because we all are trying to learn new ways of living. So I guess you could say that our family is experiencing a double whammy of regular culture shock on top of pandemic culture shock, and it’s hard to separate the two. But all things considered, we are doing okay.

My two younger kids have been able to attend school in person since the beginning of the school year, and the two older kids started entirely online. However, they have had the option of being on campus (socially distanced in the gym or library) to do their distance learning, and we jumped at that opportunity. This was partly for sanity’s sake, since August was not a pretty month in our house and we seriously needed some space from each other, but mainly because it would be the only way for our kids to start making friends.

Brokenhearted Joy

By Amy Medina

On November 26, 2020

In Living Like a Missionary, Re-Entry to America

Johnny’s pretty confused, I think. He brought home all of his Thanksgiving paraphernalia from third grade–the placemat, the turkey hat, the turkey cookie. A worksheet asked, What is your favorite Thanksgiving food? “Pizza” was Johnny’s response.

We celebrated Thanksgiving in Tanzania, of course. But it was never on a Thursday and there were no fall leaves or parades on television or feasts at school. Thanksgiving was just a normal school day and our mission team would celebrate it on Saturday or Sunday. We would eat traditional Thanksgiving foods, but I don’t know if Johnny picked up on that. After all, we met monthly with our mission team, so eating chicken and mashed potatoes in November probably didn’t stand out to him.

For several years, our team chipped in to buy a turkey, which cost over $100. We eventually gave up and in recent years, roasted a bunch of chickens instead. I would dutifully buy a giant Tanzanian pumpkin which had to be hacked open with a machete. Cooking down the pumpkin and making the crust from scratch was an all-day affair.

This year, my eyes bugged out of my face when I saw turkeys on sale for $7.00. I resisted the temptation to announce it to the strangers around me, Did you see these turkey prices? This is incredible! I had to remind myself that this is normal for everyone, and I am working hard to avoid being weird. I am not hosting Thanksgiving this year so I didn’t need to buy a turkey, but I bought one anyway, just because I could.

I Am Guilty of Cancel Culture

By Amy Medina

On November 19, 2020

In How Americans Think, Living Like a Missionary

Here’s an interesting question: If it were possible, would you choose to have your political party to be the political party? Like, the majority in every state, in every election, for every candidate?

Or how about this one: If it were possible, would you want every church to be a part of your denomination? So that every Christian ascribed to your doctrinal statement, worshipped like you do, had a building like yours?

There was a time when I would have enthusiastically answered Yes! My political position was the best for society. My denominational beliefs were the closest to Scripture. So for the good of all mankind, it would just make sense if everyone believed the same things as me. It might just usher in some kind of utopia.

In fact, I was so convinced of my rightness that I really wasn’t interested in hearing dissenting opinions. Reading something that opposed what I believed got me agitated, and, I would discover, even a bit hostile. It was easier to just shut those voices out of my life. I would take those blogs out of my feed. I would unfollow those people on Facebook. I would only read books that I knew I would agree with. I would avoid certain topics of discussion with certain people.

I was, essentially, canceling them.

Cancel culture is defined as “a modern form of ostracism in which someone is thrust out of social or professional circles – either online on social media, in the real world, or both.” Since Christians and conservatives are often the ones who are canceled by the media and universities, we often feel the brunt of this blacklisting. But what I hadn’t considered is that I was guilty of doing the same thing.

I Never Thought I Would Miss the Spiders

By Amy Medina

On November 16, 2020

In A Life Overseas, Leaving Tanzania, Re-Entry to America

Earlier this year, my kids and I were still in Tanzania, and while driving home, we stopped at a roadside fruit stand.

I asked for a huge bunch of bananas, handed the seller my money, and she passed the bananas through the window to my pre-teen son, sitting in the passenger seat. This was routine; we did it several times a week.

I pulled back onto the street and had driven just a few yards when I heard my son give a horrified yell. Alarmed, I looked over and saw an enormous spider, about the size of a silver dollar, crawling on top of the bananas in his lap. The yell turned into a guttural yelping, as my son stood up, dropped the bananas on the seat and proceeded to clamber over all of the seats and into the trunk of our minivan.

Meanwhile, I was still driving, and meanwhile, the spider was also running for his life in my direction, so I joined in with the cacophony of noise in the car. The spider then decided that hiding underneath my seat was a safe place to get away from all the screaming.

Author: Amy Medina Page 23 of 230

Imagine You Had to Write a Christmas Letter Like a Missionary

How We Are Adjusting

Brokenhearted Joy

I Am Guilty of Cancel Culture

I Never Thought I Would Miss the Spiders