The book will be a collection of personal stories by those who have grown up in Missions and Churches to speak boldly about their experiences and the community that shaped them. The stories will highlight how they grew up and are finding their way in the world. 

There are two groups that we are writing for as we process our stories:

First, we want to reach those who have grown up with a cross-cultural childhood and share a desire to relate and care across cultures, languages, and beliefs. Our audience will include those who do not identify as Christian. 

Second, we also want to reach Christians in the Missions community, the Church and elsewhere who have a heart for MK/PK care but are unaware of the challenges these children face, what to do about them, and how to nurture them so that they can thrive and not just survive.

We are looking for personal stories. This book is about personal experiences told as narrative stories. 

We are not looking for church-style religious testimonies.

We are not looking for opinion pieces (op-eds). 

• Finances

• Relationships

• Mental health

• Careers

• Substance abuse

• Cultural belonging

• Identity

• Impact of moving

• Cross-cultural Issues

• Sense of belonging

• Safe spaces to voice thoughts, ideas, opinions and feeling

• Transition

The focus is on storytelling - We want to hear your story and your thoughts. Here are some examples of descriptive narratives.

Financial difficulties:
We were poor at the time, I remember my father making me a bed out of the boxes of books, tracts and bibles that were being distributed all over the country. My mother placed several sheets over the boxes so I could sleep on them. We travelled much in those years. It would be a long time into my adult life that I would learn to sleep on a proper bed; mattress, pillow and all. For years I would sleep on a straw mat on the floors, even when my parents finally bought me a bed. For a long time I didn’t know what to do with the bed, it was an irritating item and took up room in my head. I used the space under it to store boxes of books and the numerous bibles that different people had gifted me over the years. I sat on the bed and thought I was undeserving of this luxury, although I expressed gratitude to my parents, who looked like their hearts felt full now that they were able to finally afford a bed for their youngest son. I realised that in the process of embracing missional poverty while growing up, I had romanticised it. I felt heavy in my heart that my gratefulness towards them for the gift of the bed was not fully felt. Instead, I had been robbed of my suffering; the luxury of my straw mat on the cold, hard, winter floors. I locked my bedroom door at night, so they wouldn’t see how for the next ten years I would continue to roll out my straw mat and sleep peacefully on the floors.

Cross-cultural identity:
We had both grown up cross-culturally, and neither of us identified with the cultures that our parents were from. My father was from the state of Karnataka, in south India, I had family there on his side, and they accepted me and loved me. But I think they didn’t understand me, and dismissed my longing to understand my Identity as something ‘slightly crazy’. My mother was from Uttar Pradesh, an area that is geographically defined as the Great Indian Plains. Several rivers run through the region. My family on mom’s side were tough charismatic Christians, and they loved me too. But they questioned my commitment to Jesus Christ because they said my Identity should come from being one with Christ. I realise now, that they did not understand my confusion and my search to understand what it means to be both Indian and Christian; my hard, long travels around India to see its people, places and its rich, diverse history.

An episode from childhood:
The girls in my new school were just as bewildering as the new script I had to learn. We were now in Standard V when girls began to spend more time walking around and gossiping. But I was a tomboy and I still wanted to play ball. There was a pecking order to the girls' world and you had to either be part of the bossy, domineering group of girls or be the ones that got bossed around. But I didn't want to join either group. So, I used to spend every recess break alone. I'd walk up and down the dimly lit hallway outside our third-floor classroom in my second-hand uniform. I'd look out the big windows towards the fields where the boys played soccer. But I didn't have the guts to break the rules of gender segregation. So, I would continue walking down the stairs to the second floor, down the hall, and down the stairs again. Once I reached the ground floor, I’d make my way back to the third floor in the same manner but in reverse. I would keep doing this until the bell rang, walking as slowly as possible so I wouldn't have to do it too many times. Now, as an adult, I wish I could have told myself: ‘Who cares about the gender rules? Just go play soccer with the boys. They might surprise you and let you join them.’

The articles will generally range in length from 800 to 1600 words. We will accept longer articles depending on the topic, stories, writing styles, etc. 

While we prefer that authors write using their real names, authors may write anonymously depending on the topic you choose to write. 

This MK book project is supported by GIVA Global, and Miila Consulting and Membercare. Founded by Dr. K Rajendran, GIVA Global comes with over 50 years of involvement in Christian Missions. Miila Consulting & Membercare is a company started by Dr. Pramila Rajendran to provide care for families in Christian Ministry.