The Reward of Hosting: A Personal Story of Family, Faith, and Connection -

When life doesn’t unfold as planned, it can sometimes lead us to the most unexpected and rewarding experiences. For one host father and his wife, the journey to hosting exchange students began with a longing for something they thought they couldn’t have. What started as a chance encounter with a student in need blossomed into a transformative experience that has shaped their lives and hearts in ways they never imagined. This is their heartfelt story of resilience, faith, and the profound connections formed through hosting exchange students.

Jessie Jefferson IMG_6208

“I was asked to share my story about hosting an exchange student. I thought it was a strange request, as my wife is the more articulate of the two of us. Most forty-one year old men are not the ideal candidates to talk about this adventure of hosting. So this will probably be a little different than the normal share. Carolina is with us this year. She is eighteen years old and comes from Sweden. But she’s not our first exchange student. She is our sixth. But before we talk about our hosting experience, I think there is a backstory to include.

I am a very religious person. I can remember aging out of the children’s program in our church and entering into the youth program at our church. That first Wednesday night I noticed that I was the oldest male there.

At thirteen years old, there were no other guys to look up to, no one to ask questions, no one to encourage me as I was going through all the things a male teenager goes through. But I kept going. When I was about fifteen years old, our church secretary, who had two boys that were four and six years younger than me, pulled me aside. “My boys are watching you,” she said. “When you wear something, they want to wear that thing. When you listen to something, they want to listen to that thing. What you say, they say. When you do something, they want to do that thing. So I need you to walk straight.” As a teenager, that caught my attention. So whatever I did from then on out, I tried to walk straight. I graduated high school, graduated from college, started my career in banking, got married… I felt like I was doing it all right.

My wife and I wed in 2008. She still had two years left in college and her parents were afraid that she would get pregnant and drop out of college. That consumed many conversations those first two years. When she graduated from college in 2010, immediately she was asked, “Ok, where are our grandbabies?” We were still young, so it really wasn’t a big deal to us. We were not trying to have kids, but we weren’t not trying either. “You guys will make such cute babies.” “I sure wish someone would give us grandchildren before we are too old to enjoy them.” “You sure you are doing it right?” Years of comments like this. And, again, at first, it was no big deal. But as the years kept coming, we began to notice that it was not happening. Those comments began to sting a little more as we got into our thirties.

Jessie Jefferson IMG_6207

We love kids too. My wife was a second grade teacher at the time, and led the children's department at church. I was volunteering as a baseball and basketball coach, leading the youth at our church. I had gone back to school to become a teacher. So it was not like we didn’t want kids. It just was not happening. I prayed hard. “Just one, God. Just give us one.” That is a very desperate prayer. I remember I had signed up to go to Europe with some kids in the summer of 2018. We went to some of the oldest churches in the world. I can remember while touring Notre Dame in Paris, thinking that maybe He will listen to my prayers in one of the biggest churches in the world. I found myself praying that prayer again. “Just one. I’ve done everything right for you. I’ve been an example for you. I work as a teacher and see people every day that don’t deserve a child and all I am asking for is one. And I’ll give them back to you. We just want the one.”

Crickets…

I came back home. No change. And really, I was ok with it, but I hated to see my wife go through the pain. She did not deserve this pain. That summer we celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. At this point, it would have been easier to be angry with God, but I had accepted that having a child was not the plan for me.

School started that August. The start of school is always nice. All of that ‘new’ was enough to take your mind off of any other troubles you may have. Sometime in September, the counselor walked a new student to my class. She was quiet, maybe a little shy. That classroom was full and the only seat left empty was the one right beside my desk. As with every new student, I tell them my story and then ask them theirs. When she began to speak, I could tell she “wasn’t from around here” as the locals say. She told me she was an exchange student and was removed from her first host home. She said there was a language barrier and everyone at her old school basically would not take the time to listen to her because of her strong accent. I knew at that moment that I was going to do everything I could to make her feel welcome at our school. When she talked, I had to pay attention to every word because it took me a few seconds to decode what she was saying. I believe I was the first person to give her that kind of time in America. Over the next few months, I began to see the shy girl open up. She was smiling. She was laughing. She was going to birthday parties. She always had a story for me every class. As the months grew, she opened up more. Her new host family was very strict. She was not allowed to go anywhere on the weekends because the host family did not trust her peers. So I asked her family if she could go with me and my wife shopping one weekend. They were happy to let her go with us. When we brought her back, they told us she could go anywhere with us any time. So she spent many weekends with us. If we went fishing, she went fishing. If we went out to eat, she went out to eat. When we went to church, she went to church. For the first time, I began to feel like a father. It absolutely killed me when she went home.

Jessie Jefferson IMG_6211

We still stay in contact with Guenola. It wasn’t until a couple of years later that I put a few things together. We never would have spent the time with her like we did if we had our own kids, and all of the scheduling that comes with that. I prayed so hard for God to give us just one. In Notre Dame in Paris, France, I believe I prayed harder than maybe I have ever prayed. I believe God has a little sense of humor, because what I did not know was that he had one coming my way. Guenola is from France… the very place I asked for a child.

But I am a little thick headed. We didn’t start hosting that next school year of 2019-2020. I don’t know why, maybe we didn’t know exactly how to go about becoming host parents. My wife had moved up to be the high school librarian at the time.

She had a class of juniors that she advised on Fridays. One of the guys in her advisory class was Miguel from Spain. I had Miguel in class. He was a funny kid, kept everyone laughing. In February of 2020, his host family told the company he was with that he was not working out. Miguel was very stressed out about the possibility of having to go home or change schools. My wife and I talked about it and decided that we would fill out the paperwork and take him in for the rest of the school year. All of the paperwork went through, and all the background checks and home visits were completed. Miguel moved in on March 12, 2020. I remember the date because the school, the state, and the rest of the world all shut down the next day. So we spent a lot of time with Miguel because we could not go anywhere. This was the first time anyone had ever lived with us other than just the two of us, and now there was nowhere to hide. It is a good thing he came to live with us though because while everything was limited here, back in Spain, there was a very strict plan in place where you couldn’t even walk outside unless you were going to the grocery store, work, or walking your dog. He would have been quarantined in his bedroom for nearly all hours of the day. Miguel stayed with us as long as his company would let him and then we sent him on his way.

After having a teenage boy in the house, I began to understand why my dad told me that girls are different. Since we had already done all of the paperwork, we decided to host again. I told my wife I wanted to try to host a girl this time. My dad was right. Girls are different. Once we started hosting girls, we have never looked back. I think it may be because I have never been a teenage girl, so I am a little bit softer with them. As a teenage boy, I was in every sport, kept up my grades, and held a job. So when a boy is doing less than that and complains about not having time, I am not as soft. The girls have softened me up.

Jessie Jefferson IMG_6206

We have hosted exchange students for many years now. Sari was from Switzerland. Barca was from the Czech Republic. Gloria was from Italy. Katka was from Slovakia. And our student this year, Carolina, is from Sweden. Every one of them is different. Every one of them has different strengths and weaknesses. Every one of them has made me a better person. We don’t have much in life (we are both teachers), but I feel like we offer something special to every person we host. We live in the heart of the Ozark Mountains. We live in a log cabin in the woods. The family farm that I grew up on is within walking distance. We have a close-knit community where everyone knows us. Life is a little slower, but where we go, they go. What we do, they do. What we eat, they eat. And we love every single one of them.

So this isn’t a story about why you should trust in God. This really isn’t a story about why you should host an exchange student. This is my story. There was a lot of hurt for a long time, but I wouldn’t trade my story for anyone else’s. I figure by the time we are done hosting, the sun won’t set on our family.”

Hosting exchange students has allowed these host parents to expand their family in the most unique and meaningful way. From the Ozark Mountains to the bustling cities their students call home, their story reminds us that family transcends borders. It’s a testament to the power of cultural exchange and the joy that comes from sharing your life with someone new. Whether you’re considering hosting or simply reflecting on the impact of international connections, this story illustrates how opening your home can open your heart to a world of possibilities.

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The Reward of Hosting: A Personal Story of Family, Faith, and Connection

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