A Wife, Mother, and Missionary

by Bonnie Winfield

I sit here in the living room of our rented home in Des Moines, reminiscing over the last few years of our lives. We are nearing the end of our first furlough and it seems the year has flown by so quickly. We are almost ready to begin our second term as missionaries in Lima, Peru. It is funny to think of ourselves as ready to start a second term, for we still feel like beginners. I still cannot believe that I am actually looking forward to going back. If you would have told me that a couple of years ago, I am afraid I would have been in doubt. I am now filled with a calm assurance. Remember, I am the one who bears her heart to help someone else. If the feelings and experiences we have encountered can help someone else to find courage to follow, then all is not in vain.

When I think back over the last four years in Lima, a diverse picture comes to mind. If it were a painting, it would start off with shades of brown blending into the darkest black then lightening until it reached a glorious golden hue.

Four years ago it was so exciting to think of ourselves as missionaries. We had such plans to win the country of Peru to Christ. We were sure they would be standing in line for miles to hear the Word of God preached. The day we had long awaited finally arrived. I remember the gripping fear that settled in around my heart when we left Miami on Eastern L-1011 bound for a new land. This fear stayed with me in various forms for the next two years. I struggled with the thought that we would be calling a distant shore our home. Would it be possible to feel at home in Lima? The new sights, sounds, and smells permeated the air as we stepped off the plane to greet our new surroundings. Could I as a wife and mother help make this place home? Would our children adjust to this strange place? Would I ever share the zeal my husband felt for these people and our endeavor? Would I have what it takes to make it?

We plunged into a new culture and language with great zeal and many plans only to realize that if we were not careful we would drown. Learning the language became a monster that I had to conquer. Each day I had to face it but with the continual feeling that my strength was ebbing away. It was not long until we were shocked by the things touching our lives not only the shocking adjustments to a new culture but also the daily bombardments of our minds with new words.

Lima itself was experiencing great turmoil at the time. Terrorism had Peru in its death grip and the people just could not seem to rid themselves of this stranglehold. Tension filled the air and the people wore it on their faces. Our dream of being welcomed with open arms was suddenly shattered. This new culture was forcing change upon us, some for the good and some very threatening. It was decided we would have to change many habits to be accepted by these people. Change is such an ugly word, for with it comes a feeling of insecurity. In a very short time the Lord put us through some refining fires and taught us valuable lessons. I buried myself in the Scriptures to remind myself that God is our security for nothing else in this life provides stability.

You would not think that a lack of electricity and water rationing could drive a mother to tears, but it did. In fact many things were driving me to tears in those days. I kept asking God if He was sure He wanted us in Lima. I think the hardest adjustment for me was trying to be brave when I was not feeling very courageous. I remember one night when Phil was at a youth meeting, we heard bombing in the distance. The children came running to me just as one of those explosions put out the lights in Lima. We made our way to the living room, lit a candle, and we prayed for Phil to get home safely and for the innocent people who might have been hurt in the bombing. We sang God Will Take Care of You. When my husband returned, the lights came on and all was well, but deep in my heart the fear was growing. We shared our reaction to the experience, and it was a comfort to know that Phil was scared as well. It kept us very close as a family to share our feeling and sometimes hold each other and cry. God was always in our midst in spite of our small faith.

We experienced so many different emotions. It was difficult to deal with the earthquakes and tremors that drained the color from our children's faces and the bombs that would occasionally shake our church and home. The eyes of our children were on us to see how we would react. They needed us to be strong. We would gather close to pray, sing, and sometimes tell jokes until we all laughed, but later in my bed I would cry out to the Lord for more strength.

The other missionaries seemed so fearless. They had already learned to trust the Lord in all situations. Oh, how I longed for such faith! I always watched them hoping to react as they did but to no avail. I hoped that as time went on I would become strong like them.

The robbery, times of sickness and discouragement are still hard to talk about in some ways. If it were not for the ugly things in life, then we would never notice the beautiful. In every hard situation was a lesson to be learned, more dying to self and trusting God for daily living. I found II Corinthians 1:4-10 an overwhelming comfort. It says if we never know hardships we will never experience the comfort of the Holy Spirit. We seem always to choose the easy path in our lives. I am reminded that the hardships cause us to grow in Christ.

I know that the next term will have its own trials for they are the way of our walk in Christ. I realize that there are things to which we will never grow accustomed. Some things we do not want to grow accustomed to, such as the lack of value for human life, dead people in the road covered with newspaper, children with their hands held out for money to give to their drunken fathers, and holidays without grandparents and family.

We return with great hopes to win more to Christ, to share the Gospel with those who need His light in their dark lives. I go back with my husband and children not filled with fear this time but filled with a faith that has been proven. A faith that tells me to trust God and His will. I will follow as a wife, mother, and missionary with God’s help. Please continue praying for us for we need your prayers and you need to pray. Is Peru home yet? It is our temporary home. I hope always to remember that our home is with the Lord. That is our home. Heaven.

Bonnie Winfield and her husband, Phil with their three children, serve with BIMI in Peru, South America.