March 31, 2008

Dear Friends,

We started writing to you in August, 2005, as we embarked on our admittedly brief careers as PC(USA) missionaries. We had no idea what our initial three-year commitment might bring and where it might lead: a longer-term call to mission service?  A disillusionment with life in the developing world? Gratitude or resentment from our children for imposing this lifestyle on them? We hoped for a broadened perspective on what it means to be a disciple, for new friendships, for a chance to challenge our assumptions about life and living, for good health and safety from the evil forces at work in this part of the world. And now that we are moving back to the United States, where are we now?

We have experienced everything just listed and more—the benefits and the perils. We have had more illness than we care to recall, but we have developed resilience in measures far deeper than we thought we had in us. We sense there may be a longer call to mission service but know the time for that is not now. We have raged in frustration at the way things are done (or not) here and have learned to appreciate aspects of this culture so dramatically different from our own—aspects we hope we can carry  forward into our lives. 

Our children are grateful for the opportunity they've had to make friends from around the globe and see places they never dreamed of seeing but have sometimes resented the impositions of missionary life (like those really long church services!). We have been protected from the violence in Pakistan and hope we can bring back a perspective that will shed light on why it happens. 

And those lifelong friendships? We bring back more than we could have ever imagined in 2005.

It’s more than friends, though. It’s an appreciation for the lengths people will go to show hospitality, grace, and charity—in short, the love that the apostle Paul speaks of in I Corinthians 13. And it has come from Christian, Muslim, Sunni, Shia, Ismaili, and Parsi. We could write pages with examples; here are a few from just the past two weeks.

Marianne was driving Nathan to his final ophthalmologist appointment before we leave. She was pulling into a parking space when a young man driving for a local company slammed into the side of the car. Nathan and the driver engaged in some Punjabi insults and up pulls a small red car. Out hops a young man we did not recognize and he runs over, saying “Ma’am, may I be of assistance? I am a Formanite and saw what happened. Can I help you?” While we had never met him before, he clearly knew who we were from seeing us on campus and he spent the rest of the afternoon with us while we met with the company manager and discussed payment for damages. He insisted on translating when our language skills failed us and going with us from office to office to sort out who could speak on behalf of the company. He only left at our insistence when we had done as much as we could and had to get to the appointment. All this from an 18-year-old.

A second story: We have had a long-standing invitation from one of the Christian students to visit his village. We finally arranged to go last Saturday; it took nearly three hours of driving on lousy roads to reach his village near the Indian border. This student has come a long way: his father died of TB when he was 7, and his mother has supported the family as a carpet weaver making 67 dollars a month since then. An uncle helped Sohail come to Forman Christian College, a dream beyond imagining from this village and certainly beyond the means of this poor family.

Ayesha, Sohail's mother, spent a large part of her monthly income and many hours to cook us and her family a wonderful meal.

They have a two-room house with a small courtyard where the buffalo is tethered, a fireplace for cooking in a space outdoors, and a toilet with a curtain hung over the opening. Dishes, hands, and clothing are all washed from a single hose on a concrete pad with a drain. Everything is neat and tidy—and I mean everything. The buffalo-dung-and-mud floor was freshly painted for our visit, the string beds have clean spreads in the room where everyone eats and sleeps. And our young friend’s mother was cooking as we arrived, preparing food for 10 people over the fire.

Sohail has not only been able to finish high school, but pursue a college education because of scholarship support from churches and individuals in the United States and the United Kingdom. The family is grateful and knows the Americans have made this possible. Ayesha, his mother, has spent a significant percentage of her monthly income to buy the food for our lunch; we know her son cannot afford to eat in Lahore at times, and we are pained to see the food they have prepared for us, knowing how much it cost. The story of the widow’s mite is alive and smiling at us as she squats over the fire for hours cooking food she only rarely can provide for her family. How do we deserve such generosity? We don't, but we accept it graciously and put some money in Sohail’s pocket as we leave in hopes that the family will be able to eat for the rest of the month.

Perhaps you can see how it is hard to leave.

Yet, the decision is made so we’re packing feverishly, giving away clothes we will not need in the United States and shoes that no longer fit growing boys. We’re visiting people’s homes, often for a meal or tea. We’re meeting with teachers to sort out how to help the boys finish their schooling this year and trying to get a partial container of our belongings ready for shipping. In short, we’re slammed! We leave Lahore on April 4, flying to Beijing for 12 days of holidays in Beijing and Shenyang, Peter’s birthplace. We will visit with Peter’s foster mother and explore as much of his homeland as we can in the time we have. We’re returning to Richmond, Virginia, on April 17 and plan to live there in the immediate future while we sort out career options and adapt to life in the United States.

We have committed to make ourselves available as much as possible for speaking engagements between the time we arrive in the United States and the end of June. Many Sundays are booked, but do let us know if you are interested and we’ll work to find a suitable time for all concerned.

As we leave, we owe a debt of gratitude to you as well: for your interest in our work, for your prayers for us and the people of Pakistan, for your donations, and most of all for caring about people much of the world wants to stereotype as dangerous. We hope we’ve given you a glimpse of life here that goes beyond what the news media portray. We also hope your interest will not wane with our departure. The prayers are still needed—now more than ever. Your support of education here is critical because it is the key to changing the future of this country. And your willingness to go beyond the headlines will help to dispel the stereotypes.

So, thank you.

Beginning April 20, our mailing address will be 1510 Park Ave #1, Richmond, VA 23220. No phone yet, so email is probably best. Both Robert and I intend to keep the same email addresses: johnsonr3@mac.com and marianne.vermeer@gmail.com.

Finally, we ask for your prayers in this time of transition. Nathan is especially sad to be leaving a school and friends he loves.All of us need extra doses of stamina in the coming weeks. We ask you to pray for those we are leaving here to carry on the work we've started and that the way forward is prepared for us as we return to the United States.

And please, stay in touch. It means a great deal to us!

Blessings from all of us one last time from Pakistan!

The 2008 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 85