Clouded eyes stared at the floor as I sat cross-legged in our nearly empty bedroom. One week—that is all the time we had to pack up our lives. Now, it was the second-to-last day, and the weight of it all finally broke me.

We ate dinner outside—no usable table left inside—while Sumarie showed someone around, a woman hoping to buy the last of our things. We had delayed selling Joshua’s birthday bike, the one he had received just two months earlier when he turned four. But time was slipping away, and this family wanted it for their granddaughter.

None of us knew the deal was done—until we saw the woman carrying the bike out. “She’s taking my bike!” Joshua cried, bolting after her.

We managed to calm him, explaining why. But the moment pierced deeper than I expected. I broke down, crying out to God: “Lord, we are doing this to follow You—to become missionaries. If we are doing the right thing, then why does it hurt so much?”

I wiped my face and stepped back into the chaos, joining my family, who were also stretched thin by emotion. As we cleared up after dinner, Sumarie walked up to me, hugged me and whispered, “Our U.S. visas have been approved. We will make it on time for training.”

It felt like the air changed.

A few months ago, everyone said it was impossible. The visa application process was too long, the odds too slim. But that hug, that moment—it was not just from my wife. It was a God hug.

God is in control of His mission, and He comforts us in our weakness. Our family is following His call to the Czech Republic—but we cannot do it alone. Would you prayerfully consider partnering with us to reach our financial goals?

• Twitter