Over the years, we have probably had 50 or more student missionaries come and go through our project. It is hard having the turnover in staff. We must train and mentor them closely until they can really function in their new jobs and interact with the Palawanos in their own language. We have to learn new personalities and ways of working with new people. It isn’t easy for the Palawanos either. But once newcomers show they are fun-loving and friendly and try to learn the language, the Palawanos soon allow them into their lives. And when they do, no student missionary is ever the same again. I call it a love bug. It is a type of infection that bites everyone willing to put up with the difficulty of leaving the known for the unknown; putting up with the inconveniences of jungle living; persevering through discouragement and loneliness and enduring hard times in order to take Jesus’ love to those who don’t know Him. Once you’re bitten by the love bug, the infection gets worse and worse as your love for your new brothers and sisters deepens, and you learn to hurt when they hurt and rejoice when they are happy.

At the end of our student missionaries’ terms of service, we have to manage their departures to prevent the hysteria that can overcome the Palawano students at parting with their beloved teachers. 1) Don’t tell the students about the departure very far in advance, and don’t give the exact day. 2) Spread the goodbye over several days. 3) On the day of departure, leave very early in the morning before the students are at school so they don’t have to watch you leave—it is too much for them, and they cry and sometimes scream and stamp their feet. If one doesn’t follow this protocol, it is horrible for everyone.

Yes, it is hard on the Palawanos when student missionaries leave, but it is also hard on us. We, too, form bonds with them and feel that they are part of our family. Through the years, we have tried to keep tabs on where they are. Sometimes we run into them in various places—once even on a hike on Mount Rainier! But mostly we don’t get to see them, and we miss them. This past December was different, though. Having an opportunity to temporarily be back in our old home in Tennessee, we invited a number of our former SMs from the southeastern U.S. Fifteen of them spanning four years of service were able to come. We had a marvelous time. Since there isn’t much else to do when you get together in Kemantian, we learn to really talk with each other. So we spent the weekend catching each other up on where we were in life. Kent and I updated them on our various Palawano friends and projects. We sang our hearts out in Palawano, we talked about our burdens for specific people, and we had a precious time of prayer for our Palawano brothers and sisters.
Friday evening, we had arranged to have the student missionaries in Kemantian give us a call from church. The Palawano members were so happy to talk to their old friends again. Conversations went from one to another until the phones were almost dead. Then we told them we wanted to sing a song for them, and then they got excited and decided they wanted to sing a song for us, too. Then the phones went dead. When they called us back, they had prepared to sing the chorus of “Side by Side” for us:

“Meet me in heaven, we’ll join hands together
Meet me by the Savior’s side
I’ll meet you in heaven, we’ll sing songs together
Brothers and sisters, I’ll be there.”

As they sang, tears stung my eyes, and a joyful longing ached in my chest. When they finished, we replied by singing the chorus of the song we had chosen to sing for them:

“Meet me in heaven . . . Brothers and sisters, I’ll be there.”

It was a poignant moment as each group sang the burden of their hearts.

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