Growing up

My parents were missionaries in Papua (Irian Jaya) from 1974-1987, my dad was church planter, pastor, Bible school principal and lecturer. he discipled and baptized many first generation Christians.

I was never aware of  'under dressed' people, this is where I grew up. In the morning women would come to our house and sell veggetables from their gardens or ask for medicines in case of sickness. me and my sister helped my mom ofcourse!

First years my mom homescholed us, later we got a volunteer teacher from Holland. Saturdays we would go down to the river (Landi) and swim.

The mission post where my parents raised their kids...the church and our house on the right of the grass runway.

We depended totally on the MAF services for all sorts of supplies and resources. I boarded those MAF planes just the way my kids now board our Landcruiser.

I had great friends, the kids of the carpenters my dad used to build the mission buildings. We had sleepovers, pick nick's, hiked through the rainforest and sit together in Sunday school

My mom taught Sunday school

I am so thankful for growing up at the mission field. Little did my parents know they were raising future missionaries themselves. Three of us serve in foreign mission and my other three siblings serve the Lord in The Netherlands. Not to boast in my parents or myself but to boast in the Lord.

Now we are raising our own kids at the mission field. Here Joas and Rhoda back in 2006 when we first came to Zambia. They spend many many hours at the College farm, harvesting the maize.

Roasting hotdogs over a charcoal fire birthday party and many more adventures...

Obed and Moses learn how to dry a goatskin and make a nice rug from it.

With our kids growing up in Africa we realize we might be raising future missionaries as well. God knows, we would be honored. To be disciples of Jesus Christ is all that matters, where ever it will be.