For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. (Hebrews 13:14 NLT)

During the final week of school, my mind kept wandering from my books and arithmetic worksheets. Hour after hour I stared out the window, planning for summer fun at home, as my first-grade teacher’s voice droned like an airplane in the sunny sky above me.

All I could think of was, I’m going home! School’s almost over, and I’m finally going home.

The rules at KA had kept me from many of my favorite things to do:

No riding bikes
No climbing trees
No chewing gum
No wearing shorts, for girls
No open sandals, unless you wore socks too
No family nighttime devotions – not much time with my brother at all.

I want the plane ride home to hurry up and come, I thought as I watched an uncle pedal his bike past the swings on the playground.

Last week the aunties had carried our big trunks and footlockers to our room. We packed most of our clothes and toys, then a lorry picked up the cases and carried them south, toward home. Soon the school year would end.

As we left the classroom, a junior high boy ran up from the dining hall, calling across the playground, “The Flight Schedule is up!”

We raced to the dining room and stopped short at the front steps. A big crowd of kids pushed and shoved each other, anxious to read the four sheets of paper taped to the glass window,

One excited girl yelled, “Yay! I fly home the first day.”

Another kid groaned and said, “Oh no! I have to wait ’til the very last flight.”

I saw my big brother Larry just as he turned from reading the schedule. He waved, then forced his way through the crowd.

Home is a Vacation Destination

“When do we go home?” I asked and hopped from my left foot to my right and back again.

“Friday! All of us Egbe kids fly home on Friday.” Larry grinned so wide it looked like his teeth might fall out.

I threw my thin arms around his waist and squeezed. “Yay team!” Then I quickly dropped my hands to my side and looked around. I don’t want to get into trouble for hugging a boy.

Larry frowned. “Since school ends on Tuesday, we’ll have to stay here two extra days.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “But I can’t wait to smell Daddy’s Old Spice perfume and chew bubble gum and wear shorts without this tight skirt over top.”

Larry said, “I want to get home quick so we can ride bikes and climb trees in our front yard.”

“We’ll have family devotions at bedtime, and I can hug Mark and hold little Grant on my lap,” I said.

“And play with Baby Cindy!” Larry said. “But it’s time to go in for lunch now. I hope you like the food today, Sis.”

During recess on Monday, some kids chanted a made-up phrase using a sing-song voice: “Today – I can say – that I’m going home – tomorrow.”

I felt a twinge of jealousy but told myself, I’ll be singing that in three days!

School’s Out, Summer’s Here

For several days I wore the same outfit because my other dress hung in my wardrobe along with a pair of undies and socks folded over the inside wire. It seemed strange to place underwear on a hanger, but that added to the excitement.

When class ended Tuesday afternoon, all the first graders gave a big cheer. Even though I wished I could leave right away, I loved the slow pace of the free days. As kids continued to leave, the halls and playground grew quieter. When the sirens rang, I could keep playing, glad I didn’t have to jump up for class. The aunties and uncles seemed happier, too.

Out by the swings, we invented a game called “Charlie Charlie.” The mission airplanes that took us to and from school had names going along with the letters on their tails. The single-engine Piper Comanches were called Charlie Bravo, Charlie Charlie, Charlie Delta, and Charlie Echo. The big, twin-engine Aztec was Charlie Foxtrot.

Seated on the wooden swings, we each chose a call name. Four girls squealed with excitement as we pumped our legs back and forth, making the swings go as high as the chains would let them.

Up, up to the sky, I soared. The wind brushed my cheeks and I imagined I was in the plane that would carry me home.

After three pumps I felt sick to my stomach, so I scuffed my feet on the tarmac, slowed down, and hopped off.

Going a Little Crazy

The next morning after breakfast, I said goodbye to my three roommates as they left. Then I had the whole day with nothing to do. What a fabulous feeling of freedom!

“What can we play today?” I said to the girl in the bedroom across the hall.

She giggled and said, “I have a great idea. Let’s go down to Crazy”

“Oh, no! Never. That’s a scary jungle” I shivered. “We’re not allowed there.”

“It’s just overgrown bushes on the other side of the dining room. Some big boys told me they go there all the time.”

Because this girl often got into trouble, I was skeptical, even though I wanted to try something new. I made one more excuse. “Someone told me there’s a stream that gives you ringworm if you step in it.”

“We’ll be fine. Besides, school’s out so there aren’t any more rules! C’mon, let’s have an adventure.”

“Okay. I’ll go.” I liked the thought of an Adventure with No More Rules.

With my heart pounding out of my chest, I casually walked beside her. We passed the dining room, turned left, and headed down the dirt road that led to the tennis courts. Glancing nervously to my right, I saw the thick grove of trees, mixed with tall savannah grasses and scraggly bushes.

Several times each week, on our way to the courts for PE or games, we hiked past this jungle-like zone. It paralleled the road, without a fence or even a hedge, but we were forbidden to enter for fear of poisonous snakes, deadly scorpions, and parasites in mucky puddles of water.

Crazy, Creepy Crawlies

My daring buddy dashed across the road and plunged into the mystery zone. I sucked in a deep breath and ran into the forest too. Surrounded by trees, bushes, and tall grass, we were immediately in another world. No one outside could see in.

Something slithered in the grass a few feet in front of me, and I froze. The name Crazy fits, I thought. You have to be crazy to come here.

After a minute, the slithering moved further down the hill, and my racing heart settled down. This secret world felt peaceful. The damp, cool earth smelled sweet and musty, and flies buzzed busily around my head. Away from the noisy kids and hard pavement of the school compound, I began to relax.

For the next several hours, alone in our private kingdom, we poked at bugs in the mud, inspected unusual plants, and climbed out on a tree branch. I felt free like I was home exploring the countryside at Egbe.

Staying Out of Trouble

When we finally got back to the dorm, I discovered mud smeared on my legs and skirt. As I scrubbed my knees, an auntie walked into the bathroom. She shook her head. “Where on earth have you been?”

I just shrugged and looked down at my splotchy skirt. Am I in big trouble?

“Never mind that. Follow me.” She turned and led me to the end of the hall, unlocked the door to the KA Cupboard where we sorted through used clothing for a few minutes. All the dresses were in shades of brown and rust, and the one I chose had a bright yellow patch sewn over a nickel-sized hole.

“Now you go and change,” the auntie said with a kind smile.

Once in my room, I slipped out of my dirty dress and pulled the clean one over my head. The baggy sack hung to my shins.

I don’t care how this looks, I thought. I’m just glad the auntie was nice and didn’t scold me.

* * *

On Friday morning, when the VW van drove off the tarmac of the KA compound, our tires bumped over the rutted road toward Jos and the airport. Dark rain clouds covered the sky, but I felt braver than when I first came to KA.

I hummed the little tune about going home. Maybe a miracle will happen, and I can stay home for second grade, I thought. But if not, I know I have a few friends at school.

Looking Back

The happiest day of the school year was the day I got to fly back to my family. Boarding school never felt like home. In my era, each dormitory had just four or five dorm parents. The ratio of dorm staff to kids fluctuated yearly, ranging as high as 1:31.

Fortunately, many changes have occurred so today’s MKs don’t experience the trauma I did. Only a small percentage of MKs now live at a boarding school, and the majority don’t leave home until junior high or high school.

In 1955 my mom signed on as a full-time missionary. When her kids arrived, she continued to work, because no substitute was available to do the administrative work that she did at Titcombe College.

Now mission agencies offer a variety of educational options, such as schooling at home or finding an educator to teach several families on one mission station, and mothers work just part-time so they can make their family a priority.

What I Know Now

Friends often ask, “How did this affect your parenting of your own kids?” Each time I considered placing one of my kids in daycare, I felt a familiar vice tightening around my middle. I had a hard time even leaving them in the church nursery for two hours each week.

God gave me a gift in that while I was raising my kids, my mom and dad moved close by and babysat every time I needed them. It warmed my heart to see my parents enjoying Andrew, Heather, and Robby. I didn’t feel like I was abandoning my kids when I left them with Grandma and Grandpa.

Although I didn’t get the miracle of staying with my family during the school years, I am getting the miracle of emotional healing. I have learned the staff did the best they could with the resources they had. This understanding doesn’t erase the deep hurts but gives me insight into their humanity and their need, as well as mine, for the grace that God offers through Jesus.

Link It to Your Life

How did your childhood affect your adulthood? Your parenting choices? Did you have a hard time at school, perhaps were bullied by kids or embarrassed by a teacher? Describe how you felt looking forward to summer vacation.

Diving Deeper

Is old pain still calling the shots in the present? Can you bring Jesus into the memory and ask him to show you a way to heal?

Dear Father, thank you that I have a permanent home with you. Help me to remember how much you love and cherish me, especially when I don’t feel at home in the place I live.