Serving in the United States Air Force, we did some traveling. We were stationed in Greece when Floyd (my husband) received a letter from Obe (pronounced OH-bee) Hokanson, a missionary friend of ours who was serving the Lord at Aviano Air Base in Italy. He wrote, “I’m arranging a sight-seeing trip to Israel. Come and go with us.” The trip was for two weeks.
He didn’t have to invite twice. I fired off a reply that said we’d be joining them and I’d let him know when I had a baby-sitter lined up. I prayed that God would provide a sitter, and at that point, I had no doubt that we were going. Then I made up a list of requirements for my sitter.
- They must have a general love for children. If they didn’t love children, I didn’t want them keeping mine for two weeks. While I was away, I wanted the assurance that my children would be loved and well cared for.
- They couldn’t smoke or drink. I can’t breathe around cigarette smoke, so I wasn’t going to force my children to live in a smoke-filled environment for two weeks. Also, where there’s alcohol, there’s drunkenness, and a drunk can’t properly love and care for children.
- They couldn’t use bad language. I didn’t want my children to hear it or pick it up.
- Finally, I preferred a Christian to stay with my youngsters, but that one wasn’t set in stone. The other three requirements were.
So when I prayed for God to provide a baby-sitter, I laid out my requirements before Him. I immediately thought of Jeannine. She was the wife of Floyd’s boss, a US civil service worker at Detachment 30 where Floyd was stationed. Bob and Jeannine were not only good friends of ours, but they knew and loved the kids; and they met all the requirements, even salvation. They loved the Lord. I immediately called Jeannie.
“Oh, no, Marjie. I can’t. Your children are the ages of my grandchildren. My children are all grown now and I don’t know if I can go back to caring for such little ones; changing diapers, giving baths, constantly watching them.”
Our children were ages 6, 4, and 18 months. And the little one wasn’t even walking yet. We lived in a Greek village called Ekali, halfway between a US Air Base and Det. 30, an hour either direction. The only neighbor I knew was our landlord and his wife. He spoke fluent English and she was an American. They lived in the apartment right above ours. They loved the kids, but they both worked full time.
Our church was run by an American missionary to the gypsies and was made up mostly of refugees; and the few Americans which attended our church had no time for baby-sitting. They all said I was crazy to put such demands on God, and that I’d never find a baby-sitter who met all those requirements. I said, “Then I’ll stay home.” Of course, one American couple criticized me for even wanting to go. They said, “God gave those children to you to raise; not someone else. You are shunning your God-given responsibility by going away for two weeks. Those children are your responsibility.”
That didn’t deter me. I believe that even mothers need a break from their jobs – taking care of children twenty-four hours a day. So I knew that the vacation would be good for me; in which case, it would also be good for the kids.
Despite my greatest obstacle – knowing so few people there in Ekali, I believed with all my heart that God was going to miraculously pull a baby-sitter out of His hat. I wanted to go, and I believed that God would enable me to go. But, at this point, I had no where else to look for a sitter. And everyone that knew us knew that we were looking for a baby- sitter so we could go on a once-in-a-lifetime vacation to Israel.
Realizing that time was getting short and that I needed to notify Obe of our intentions, I talked to Floyd. “There’s a possibility at this point that we won’t find someone to keep the kids,” I said. “This opportunity may never come again. If we don’t find a baby-sitter, I want you to go without me. Don’t pass up this wonderful opportunity.” Then I wrote Obe to give him an update. I told him that Floyd was definitely coming, and I was still on the hunt for a baby-sitter. So although I was confident that God would provide me with a sitter, I didn’t want to write Obe until I actually had someone lined up.
At Detachment 30, Floyd also worked with a number of US service members, and they all knew that we were looking for someone to care for the children for two weeks so we could go to Israel. Major Bailey’s wife, Raynel, called one afternoon saying that she knew a lady who babysat and asked if I’d like to interview her for the job. I thought, This is it! God is answering my prayer. I trusted Raynel, so I trusted her recommendation. But it didn’t work it quite as well as I’d hoped.