Missing the Children

March 1, 2004

by Ruth Bell Graham

In 1954, I traveled to London with Bill for the Harringay Crusade. A friend offered me a round-trip ticket back to the United States so that in the middle of the three-month Crusade I could return home to the children. When the first month of the Crusade ended, however, Bill felt he needed me. He urged me to stay.

Watching God work in lives was a tremendous privilege, but underneath was a growing longing to see our children. I couldn't bear to look at their pictures on the dresser, and when bedtime came with little more than a quick "Dear God, bless each one," I would dive into bed and try to fall asleep.

My letters home must have betrayed some of how I felt, because one of my mother's letters told of my daughter Anne praying, "Dear God, please bless Mommy, and help her not to be so homesick for us." They were quite happy and content. It was I who was miserable.

But it taught me a lesson. When we are away from God, He misses us far more than we miss Him.