Home can be a very confusing concept for an MK. Is home where we were born? Is it where we’ve lived the longest? Is it where our family is? Over the years of being an MK this question of what home is has been a struggle. When we first moved to the field I was eight years old, my parents tell of how my siblings cried every night for the first six months. At that point home was Springfield, Missouri, the place where we had lived for most of our lives. Eventually we got used to this new country, new house and new friends, and we loved it! Sure we missed the States, but gradually Costa Rica became our new normal. I couldn’t tell you the exact date when Costa Rica became home for me, but I do remember the day when I went back to my home church and someone said, “Hey! Welcome back home!” I knew they meant all the best, but at that moment I realized that Springfield was no longer “home” for me.

I still love going back to the States and seeing my family and friends and doing all the fun things that I can’t do in Costa Rica, but whenever I’m back I long for my life in San Jose. Now that I’ve realized where home is to me it can be hard for me to hear friends and family in the States talk about me “coming back home.” I know they mean well but often it can be very frustrating, a fellow MK put into words what I had been feeling, “Sometimes I want to scream, ‘My home is where I’m living! It’s where my heart is! It’s where my family is!’” My definition of home has definitely changed over the years as I’m sure it will continue to change in the future. For now I’ve come to find that home is where I have a group of friends that I see regularly and have come to love. Home is where I see my new church family every week. Home is where I wake up and see the beautiful mountains. Home is where my heart breaks for the people living in darkness. Home is all these things and more. Home is Costa Rica.

by Ashley Robertson, MK to Costa Rica