The vision of home that began in me the day I had my first child grew clearer and more compelling as time went by. Because I knew what it was like to live in a foreign country as a young, lonely missionary without a familiar place to go when weary, I wanted to provide a space of rest and refreshment for those who felt that way too.

People from all over the world passed through our doorways and stayed in our beds and feasted at our table over the years. We cultivated our rooms into refuges for weary ones and places to celebrate births and weddings, to give solace to the sorrowing, to nurture those who were ill, and to offer love, friendship, and even counseling. Our home was a venue for feasts, Bible studies, concerts, holidays, birthdays, and intimate time with friends. In the process, our home began to have a story of its own.

Years passed, and our children grew through each season of life. At times, we pulled in together behind closed doors to deal with heartaches and disappointments — though we also celebrated joys and had lots of fun. At these times, home grew into a place of refuge, comfort, familiarity, safety, pleasure — a port to keep us safe through the storms.

During these years, God seemed to whisper to me in my quiet times: "Give foundations of strength and inspiration to these precious ones, but give them wings as well. Prepare them to take risks, to live by faith, so that they can take the messages and cherished values they learned at home and share them with a hurting world."

And so our home began a launching pad, a place of blessing, as we sent our beloved children on their way — hopefully strong, whole, and secure in the ideals, faith, and values that truly matter.

They were taking His light out into the darkness. But our home remained the lighthouse they could return to for restoration in between their adventures.

Read more about this in The Lifegiving Home.