S t r e t c h e d
b u t
Not Broken
By Hannah Fraser, 16-Year-Old
OMS Missionary Kid in Hungary
“We’ll see” is a phrase missionaries use often. As a mis-
sionary kid in Hungary, I can attest to this.
The number of times I’ve asked when
we’re moving or if we’re staying or wondered
aloud if we’ll ever be back and received
those words in response is innumerable.
My parents moved to Hungary when I
was two. We lived here for four years, and
I attended a Hungarian preschool for three
of those. Then, we lived for three years in
the U.S., four more in Hungary, another one
in the U.S., and now two more in Hungary.
I used to imagine that my heart was in
two pieces, one planted in America and
one planted in Hungary. When I was in
America, that part of my heart bloomed
while the other part shriveled. But when I
moved to Hungary, suddenly the tiny, wrin-
kled heart would grow again. One might
say that in this way I never got to grow
roots in the place where I lived because
just as I got comfortable, just as things
started to make sense and I felt at home,
my body was ripped away from my heart,
and I was presented with another half of it
that I had completely forgotten about.
While in the U.S., we visited churches
to raise our support, and I learned what
the perfect missionary kid mask looks like.
People were kind, but I felt pressure to be
always smiling, always glad to be back
but missing home a little, and never, ever
broken. The one time I let my mask slip, I
was hurt by a response that sounded like
a cliché. Someone tried to relate to me
with an experience that seemed similar to
them but was actually worlds apart. That
last year in the States was one of my most
difficult ever as we lived without real roots,
and I was so homesick for Hungary.
I think there comes a point in every mis-
sionary kid’s life when he or she wonders
if there’s any reason to try to form friend-
ships. I certainly have found myself holding
back because I know I’ll move again, and
the less I care about people, the less pain-
ful it will be.
And yet, probably one of the best parts
about being a missionary kid is the friends
we get to make. We may not always know
where our home is, but we feel at home
because of the friends we have all over the
world.
Heaven is a reality to me. My home isn’t
here. I have houses, I have friends, I belong
to different communities, but the only day
I’m ever going to settle forever is the day I
reach heaven.
I’m thankful for my life as a missionary
kid. It’s challenging, but in the end, I know
I’m going to get where I need to go. I’ve
learned how to let go of the past and cling
to what is important. Through all of my
journeys, God has always traveled along-
side me, and I know he’ll continue to in the
future, whether he calls me to serve him in
America, in Hungary, or in another country.
I don’t know what his plans are, but I know
they’re good because they always have
been. I’ll just have to wait and see.
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