By Beth Mills, PWOC International President

[W]e were well pleased to impart to you not only the gospel of God, but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us.

I Thessalonians 2:8

I love it when our family is invited to dinner with new friends. Often when we arrive at their home, everything is already prepared and ready. Although I offer to help serve or clean up, the offer is usually turned down. “You’re our guest,” our friends reply. I leave feeling special and a bit pampered by their kind hospitality. But when I’m allowed in the kitchen with my hands plunged deep into soapy dish water, I know I’ve crossed that tipping point when we move from “guest” to “member of the family”. When I take part in the preparation and clean-up as well as the great dinner and conversation on the couch, I feel like I’ve been given a place in the family, and that’s a home I want to return to again and again.

It kind of reminds me of my first PWOC experience. Our president at the time was masterful at involving women in chapel ministries, helping them to feel that sense of belonging to a family. She rarely had to make a plea from the podium for volunteers. An unsuspecting newcomer in our midst often found herself right in the middle of great conversation as she and others stapled packets of paper, filled goody bags, or decorated tables for a program. Many times I found myself by our president’s side passing out bulletins for our Sunday chapel service, or helping her clean up tables after a Sunday Fellowship Dinner, laughing, talking, and learning. Although I didn’t carry the responsibilities of a “position” in PWOC at the time, I was given a “place.” And I found it was a place where I belonged.

We can make the atmosphere at PWOC a home, where our guests become a member of the family. Let’s invite women to become a part of our lives, a part of the life of the ministry at our installation. If we’ll give women the spur-of-the-moment personal invitation to join us in the task at hand, it communicates that they’re presence is important to us. We value the part they play: lowering the lights and screen for worship time, holding a squirming baby so his momma can listen to the devotion, placing a special favor on each chair prior to opening session. Involving women in chapel ministries gives them a “place” where they’ll want to return to again and again.

Submitted By De’Etta Goecker, Asia Region President

This simple question raises a dilemma for many third culture kids and military spouses, me included. “Where IS home?”

How do I answer?

If the person seems like one with whom I’d like to strike up a conversation, or one that is honestly interested, I often say, “Africa or The Philippines”. If the person seems to be simply fulfilling social obligations, I’ll say, “Oregon,” and let it drop. If they seem interested after that, I’ll say, “My parents were missionaries, and we spent furloughs in OR.” If they are STILL interested, we go on to discuss Africa, Philippines, boarding school, Montana, Texas, Alaska, Japan…. Since home is where the heart is, many in my family respond to the question with one word, “Alaska”.

The reality for many of us in the midst of an OConus assignment is we will not “be home for Christmas.” We have parents, spouses, and/or children who we may not see during these Holy Days. I’ve been musing.


As Christians we know that, “This world is not our home”.  I eagerly anticipate the time when farewells will cease and we’ll endlessly worship Jesus together, face to face. But for this season….separations from dear ones hurt.

“Home is where the heart is”. Hmmm… If this is true, and I begin to think it is, then it is possible for home to be a spot I’ve never seen. It’s possible home is in Spokane, WA…Eugene, OR…Crescent City, CA….Anchorage, AK….San Angelo, TX…Mangagoy; PI….Liberia, W Africa and Kabul, Afghanistan. The ultimate home being heaven….

It seems to me that no matter where I travel…or where pieces of my heart land with loved ones…if home IS where the heart is… regardless of physical location…I  am always HOME for the Holy Days.

And so this season, I’ll be contentedly home in OR, home in TX, home in CA, and home in Japan, while dreaming of great reunions to come when we’ll all be truly HOME together – forever.

I count it a joy to be “home” with so many of you in Asia. Please know I’m praying for you as you enter this season of celebrating our Lord’s birth in a country that may not always feel like “home” to you. I pray for a new awareness of all God’s heavenly gift means to us, and for you to bring a touch of “home” to all you interact with this season. Remember, I’m only a Skype away if you would like to talk this season.

Submitted by Katherine Wilburn, Fort Polk, LA

Have you ever heard this phrase before? Bloom where you are planted. This is a common phrase among Military Wives for sure, as we barely get time to grow some roots before we are plucked from the soil and seemingly cast to the wind, only to try to bloom someplace new. How about Home is Where the Army Sends You? I always stop and admire the charming signs that the concessionaire’s sell at the PX, the kind where you can purchase little tabs to hang underneath them designating each station you’ve lived at before. It hardly seems fair that they generally only come with three or four tabs when we need six or seven, and possibly more before we’re done.

As Military Wives we can often feel like we are just tagging along behind our husbands, moving at the Military’s whim. An afterthought. It can seem discouraging, and may be tempting not to unpack at all or meet the new neighbors. After all, you’ll only be moving again soon. In a world where the rule of thumb is to always use pencil in your address book, it’s easy to feel like you are being cast to the wind. But the truth of the matter is we are where He wants us. He sees each of us individually, loves us each individually and has plans for each and every one of us. You have a calling and a purpose unique to you.

When we received unexpected orders to PCS to Fort Polk in Louisiana with only six weeks notification, it was easy to feel buried under all the responsibilities and things that had to be done. It sure didn’t help that all of my friends expressed their sorrow that we were heading to Polk, their faces looking more appropriate to speaking to someone about the unexpected passing of a beloved family pet. I had planted firm roots in Heidelberg and the prospect of leaving made me feel like crying. I knew that I would be leaving part of myself when I left and wasn’t sure I wanted to set those roots in my new community.

I did though. God reminded me that I was never buried; only planted. I would Bloom here too and if I was willing, I could fulfill His plans for me here. I’m not in Louisiana at the whim of the Army, and not because I am tagging along behind my husband as he serves all over the world. God has a unique purpose for me. Me alone. And unless I open myself to him, and plant my roots, I’ll never be able to bloom and bear fruit for Him.

Look at Ruth. She left her homeland to follow Naomi, even though she could have gone home. She might have felt as we do sometimes, just another victim, tossed about by the world with no control over her own fate. Yet trusting in God, she followed the path he set her on, and was the ancestor of our Lord and Savior. Just as Ruth, we have to trust in His plan for us.

Home is not where the Army sends you. It’s where God takes you. When you stop letting yourself feel like a victim of the Military’s wants and whims, and see yourself as the Heroine of your own story, you will Bloom, you will bear fruit, and you will grow stronger in your Walk with Him

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