Everything should have been well. I should have been so happy! What missionary wouldn't have wanted this? Conversions by dozens. Sincere repentance, people coming to Christ with open hearts. Beautiful. Young people taking leadership roles in their local churches, willing to be mentored. So encouraging! And dear friends thanking me after I had comforted them during their hospital stays. I was even proud of being able to encourage them in their own language. I had learned two in the last five years! Everything should have been so good.

But I was not feeling joy. I was not sad or discouraged either. Simply feeling a weight on my shoulders and a sense of grayness. I felt like I was under a dark cloud, and was persevering, waiting patiently for the sun to reappear. It had been like that for a while, but things were going well in every other respect! And then, a home assignment was coming.

I would have to return to Canada for my assessment, check in about my physical, emotional and spiritual health, and visit supporters. I dreaded it. People are nice, but this is simply not what I am good at, and frankly, it takes so much time that could be used for ministry.

But there was no postponing it a third time; it really needed to be done. So, I packed up, flew to Canada and spoke to everyone that I needed to. That is when the question stopped me. How long have you been burned out? It was like someone was accusing me. I wasn't, I was sure I wasn't! I would know if I was, wouldn't I? The nerve of someone telling me how I was feeling!

Sheila told me to breathe in and out slowly. I was so angry, I didn’t want to do it. But then, this was so silly! As I let the air flow through me, I realized how tense I was. How I had been carrying this headache for a long time. I remembered getting sick three times in the last season. I realized I had known this for a long time. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I thought I was in a spiritual desert but I was simply exhausted. And I was closer to breaking than I could ever have imagined. "Sometimes, the most spiritual thing you can do is sleep," Sheila said, comforting me. I was put on sick leave for half a year, doing exactly that: sleeping, letting others cook for me, and falling in love all over again with our Lord.

God had not disappeared. I had become too exhausted to notice His presence. Through the care I received in the office, He gave me space to rest and return with a reduced schedule. This allowed me to keep serving in the long run.

Home assignments are not as dreadful now. I am blessed that supporters are investing in missionaries' health. But I am even more grateful that the ministry with the people I served was not interrupted because I did not pay attention to my well-being.