My beginnings started out like many others, I suppose. Raised in a church-going Christian family. Everybody knows everyone kind of small town. People go to school. Graduate. Get married. Have kids. Work. Go to church and do the two-finger wave as you pass another truck on the back road.
Growing up, I wanted to be a dentist. Odd for a child, yes, but my dentist was great! I felt special going to the dentist! He gave me stickers and high fives and remembered my name. (which I now realize would have just been in my file...) Yup... I wanted to be like him.
I also was going to be a Pastor's Wife. Without knowing how to put it into words, I wanted to do ministry. That was the only way I knew how to at that age. So that's what I would be.
Oh, and a missionary. I remember sitting in the back of the van driving home, and thinking that one day I wasn't going to be here. I would be in some far off land where I needed to go. That simple. I would have been about 7.
These weren't something I wanted to achieve though. It's not like I was bouncing off the wall telling people I was going to be a Missionary. My parents didn't even know what was going on in my heart. In reality, I don't think I quite understood it back then. It just seemed like my reality--What was going to happen. And I was good with it.
It took a long time for me to realize that not everyone wanted to do these things. To be "in ministry." Honestly, it was probably in my later teens before I caught on. I didn't know how it would work. What would happen. Didn't really even think about it. Yet, every time someone would talk about missions in Chapel at school, I was all ears. I wanted to know about these things. I wanted to go along with them.
Grade 11 was our School Missions trip to Vancouver. First time doing missions...first time on a plane! And I loved it! Scared me at times, thrilled me at others. Made us step out. Talk to people. Help someone in need. Listen to stories. And I loved that our class became closer that week. We were able to be honest about what was going on in our lives, and have our friends pray for us. That was the life! That's what I wanted! I felt so alive in that! ...but then it ended... We all went home. Basically went back to our normal lives, but left me with a taste of what could be...
...So...maybe I can somehow tie in the best parts of all my childhood thoughts...make others feel incredibly special and loved. But not just feel. Let them know they ARE. Tell others about the Jesus I know and love. Let them see Him in me. Show them He is there for them too. Team up with those who are like-minded, those who want to be in this crazy adventure with me called LIFE.
It also was many years later, when I was about 21, that my mom mentioned that she always knew she wouldn't be able to keep me. She said it kind of as a nonchalant remark; In passing. As if God had always been preparing her for me to be gone. I was shocked to hear this, and yet, I appreciated it. It was kind of like my confirmation from God. ...I like how He looks out for us like that.
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