I am grateful for missionaries. The missionaries who knocked on my dad's door in Austria when he was a little boy. The member missionary who took my mother-in-law to primary when she was just a child. For the missionaries who taught my pioneer ancestors in the early days of our church. For all the people in my life who have voluntarily chosen to serve missions like my Grandpa Ralph (Eastern States), my Grandma Darlene (Texas), my dad (England), my husband (Brazil/Boston), my brothers (France and Korea), my father- and brothers-in-law, and above all, currently my sweet little brother Philipp serving a mission in Russia.
Serving as a missionary is a hard thing to do and the results aren't always visible immediately. There are moments of joy but there are also moments of rejection and heart ache in addition to all the cultural and language differences to deal with. But missionaries have given me parts of my family heritage and my spiritual heritage and I am grateful for them and their courage and willingness to go share their beliefs with others.
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