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Quito to Wheaton
by Kimberly Jordan van Veen
“I was born in the deep, dark Amazon jungle . . .” began my college application essay. It went on to describe my life growing up in the Amazon region of Ecuador, where my parents worked as a missionary pilot and a teacher. I can’t remember what the rest of the essay said, but it was enough to get me into the college.
And thus began the process of saying goodbye – again. That last semester of high school was a blur of year-end events – senior trip, exams, returning to familiar haunts around Quito and final moments with friends and teachers. My girlfriends and I shopped for Ecuadorian handicrafts to take with us as we began new lives in our “homeland,” the one we had never lived in.
I didn’t cry at graduation, standing in my maroon cap and gown, exchanging hugs with my boarding school class of 48 students. We would probably never see each other again. It didn’t hit me until a week later, as friends saw me off at Mariscal Sucre International Airport. As the plane lifted off, I gazed out the small window, thinking of how many times a plane flight had meant goodbye.
I spent the summer living with my grandparents while my parents travelled to meet supporters. I found a job in a restaurant. At 18, I got my driver’s license. The people I worked with were friendly, but there was always that barrier, that disconnect.
I went to an “MK re-entry” seminar where we learned to open a bank account, took personality tests and went to a baseball game (my first). I don’t know if it helped me transition to my “home” culture, but it sure was fun to be with 30 others from all over the world who knew exactly how I felt.
Soon summer was over. My mom ordered extra-long dorm room sheets, I filled out a class request form and I bought a winter coat, something I had never owned. We left for Illinois. My parents would stay three months in the same town, living in a house owned by a supporting church. They wanted to be nearby to help me with the transition to life in the States, unlike what my dad experienced as an MK on his introduction to college. Forever etched in his mind is the memory of being dropped off on the sidewalk at college, suitcase and typewriter in hand, as his missionary parents drove on.
My campus seemed huge, and I wondered how I would find anything. At my dorm, we hauled stuff into my room. My roommate showed up, and we stared at each other for a moment, sizing one another up and thinking about living together for the next year. She went off again, and my parents returned to their borrowed house.
All alone in my room, the tears finally came. I was here. I wouldn’t see my high school buddies again. I was here to stay. And here, I was different. I had seen things most of these kids never had.
But you know what? It got better, one step at a time. My roommate came back, and I learned she was an MK from South Korea. I figured out where things were on campus. I made friends, learning not to bring up Ecuador in every other sentence. Eventually I came to cherish my differences – in a roomful of people, I probably grew up in the most interesting place.
I’m incredibly grateful I’m an MK. From a young age, I knew the world was bigger than North America. I knew incredible poverty existed, that life was very hard for many people. I knew hundreds of dedicated people who gave their lives for the sake of telling others about Christ’s love. My heritage is rich.
Kimberly Jordan van Veen is a writer for a ministry to the world-wide persecuted church. Previously she served with OM Ships, helping to share Christ in 25 countries. Because she just couldn’t get enough multi-culturalism, she married someone from The Netherlands, Frans-Pieter |
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Hi, my name is Karen and I’m a counsellor who was a missionary for many years. I understand some of the struggles MKs go through. If you have any questions or concerns you want to talk about, or if you’d just like someone to pray with you, please email or call me at 1-888-525-3749. It’s a free call and you can remain anonymous if you choose. I promise to listen and do my best to support you. If I don’t know the answer to a question, I’ll ask some MKs I know to help me with an answer.
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All Focus on the Family magazines are free for MKs if parents request them. Have your parents call 1.800.661.9800 or email to request a magazine for you.
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