Our year in Mexico was coming to an end. It had been highly challenging for Betty to leave all she knew and move to Mexico. She suffered horribly with the language because she is such a perfectionist. If she couldn't say it exactly right, she preferred not to say it at all.

Everything in Mexico had been difficult for her. It was different, and she doesn't do "different" that well. One day when I was out with Alberto at the rancho-farm, Betty decided to cook some brownies. Cooking had always been her forte. 

She married a 145-pound 6-foot 1-inch skinny guy and turned him into the quite rotund Austin you know today. When I arrived home in the early evening, I could hear Betty in the little kitchen. She was not happy. She was slinging her pots and pans. 

I entered fearfully and laughing to see what was going on. Betty told me she couldn't do anything right in Mexico. Her brownies had turned out as hard as rocks. Queretaro is a much higher altitude city than where we lived in Georgia. Betty would learn that altitude changes recipes. 

Regardless of how different and challenging things had been, Betty adapted. She learned to love the people. She learned to cook and cook well at altitude. 

Betty, the rich little girl from Atlanta, had become a great hostess and adapted to a different culture. Our house was a center of activity. Other language school students came over to prep for tests, and Mexicans were constantly in and out of our house.

Our children had to adapt, also. It wasn't easy for anyone. Learning a language, making friends in a new culture, eating new foods, drinking new juices, etc., was different, but the entire family adapted super well.

David didn't adapt because he was one year old when we arrived and would only be two when we left. Chris may have had a more challenging time because of his outgoing personality and being the oldest. It was a matter of getting out in the neighborhood and making friends. 

That can be difficult when you do not understand their culture and language, and you even think futball is like American football and not soccer. Chris was laughed out and mistreated during his first few ventures into the neighborhood, but he soon had many friends.

We were the minority. You feel it everywhere you go. The other kids make jokes, you don't understand the jokes or the language, and you feel left out. But our children adapted and fell in love with Mexico and its people.

Even at church, you feel your foreignness. You can't understand what is going on. The church services seem long and never-ending. You only grasp a few words. You wonder if you will ever enjoy church again. You miss home. You miss your church. You miss life like you always knew, but you must go on.

The redeeming factor for our family was the Mexican friends that God gave us. The other students in the language school were great but learning the new language and culture made it even better.

Of course, the entire family loved Alberto, Berta, and their family more than anyone. The Romero family was a gift from God. Hardly a day passed that hours were not spent with them. They taught us everything. 

The language school ended, graduation took place, and it was time for us to return to Atlanta. You would have thought the world was ending or at least someone was dying. 

We said our goodbyes. We loaded up in the suburban and headed for the border. Betty was crying. The kids were sobbing. I was glad they all loved Mexico and our friends so much. 

But the crying and sobbing went on for over an hour, and I finally had to put my foot down and tell them that the outcry was over. Betty remembers telling them they would make themselves sick from crying so much. We would be making new friends in Peru. It was time to look at where God was taking us.

The life of a missionary, and maybe even many in Christian ministry, is "change." It means loving people and then leaving them. It means getting the job done where God sends you and then moving on to the new ministry He has for you. 

Betty and I married and immediately began serving in our first church. We were there just over two of the most beautiful years of our lives. Leaving that first church was traumatic. It was like we were leaving our best friends and family, but God moved us to another church in Alabama.

The beautiful thing is that there God quickly gave us new friends. Chris, our oldest, had new grandparents there. We made friends that we have loved and carried on with till today. After just over a year, we left there. Another hard time was leaving, but this time, I thought God had a different ministry for us. 

We then moved to a church with a Christian school, and I became, believe it or not, a math teacher. I didn't know what I was doing, but I enjoyed learning. I taught there for a couple of years, and we left again to start a new church.

We moved to a town knowing almost no one at all. But God again gave us new friends. We were there for over eight years. I will never forget our goodbyes as we started for the mission field.

I don't need to tell you more to understand that our lives had been very different for Betty. We seemed to always be on the move. I do not even mention that we lived in many different houses or apartments. My best estimate is that in the first 32 years of our marriage, we lived in at least 20 different places. 

Since arriving in the USA in 2005, we have only lived in two houses. 

Betty and my family have always adapted very well. We have learned to enjoy every place the Lord has sent us and all the friends He has given us. We continue to marvel at His goodness to us.

Nothing lessens the pain of leaving except looking forward to the next thing the Lord has for us.

I want to share some lessons with you that come to mind. 

You must establish very early on that you are the servant of one master, the Lord Jesus. You are not the servant of the people though you will serve them. You serve the One that has called you to ministry. You do His bidding. You march to the beat of a different drummer. You hear commands that may never reach the ears of others. 

This world is not our home. We are just passing through, as the old song says. Our treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue. Get settled in and comfortable where ever God sends you but know that you are ready to move when He gives the signal.

When the pillar of fire or the cloud moves, we move too. As much as we would like to stay in one place, we know we are not our own. We are bought with a price.

Having a nomadic family like this will put a lot of pressure on you dad and you mom to keep the right attitude. The attitude your children show is the one they got from their parents. If you complain, they will complain. If you are critical, they will be critical. If you are a gossip, they will follow in your footsteps. 

Dad be a cheerleader. Do not poison your children against God, His people, the church, or the ministry. Be careful to share good things and pray about bad things. Be careful to let your children know how much you love God and enjoy Him and His service.