In The Beginning. . .

I love to hear about people's God encounters, especially when they involve a call into ministry. Tony Campolo once said when he was asked about his "call," "I wasn't called. My mother told me. She told me over and over again, 'Your life is for serving God and other people. Do you understand? Do you understand!?'" Several people lately have asked me about my call into ministry, and I have shared that story with them. I figure it's time I make good on my promise to tell my mission trip calling story.
Last year was my first year in a newer, larger church, planning vacation Bible school. Instead of requesting a recommendation from the mission committee as to which mission to share with the kids and where to direct the offering funds, I was able to ask the missions minister, Brad. We start planning in January, but some of the details don't have to be determined right away. He got back to me probably in March and said let's support Nyaka School for AIDS orphans. I thought, "Okay, fine. You know who needs the funding and attention." He told me he had a dvd from them that he would pass along so I'd know more about them. He also mentioned they had a website I could look up. I had felt in the past that I hadn't promoted the missions aspect of vbs heartily enough, so I was determined this year to know and understand Nyaka's purpose, location, needs, etc., so I could speak about it at vbs and informally in an intelligent manner. Little did I know what was in store. . .
Well, finally, several weeks later, as I snuggled in bed for one last laptop computer encounter before dozing off to dreamland, I went to the website. It said, "click here for Nyaka video." I clicked. As I heard and read the statistics of how AIDS is affecting the children of Africa, as I watched the kids in the video and heard them singing, as I saw the impact the current efforts were having--then the kicker--Jackson describing what kind of people they need to come help the school. There was no denying it--he said "social workers who could help the teachers help the children in their grief. " In an instant, I thought, "I have to go. I could do that!"
For those of you who know me well, you know what an absolute stretch of every fiber of my being this is. I have never been called to consider missions work (and really, was pretty much genuinely thankful about that). That was something other people did. Other people who spoke other languages. Other people who liked rugged adventures (like primitive camping). Other people who knew and understood the spiritual, political, and cultural situations in other countries. Other people who liked to and were skilled at building houses or churches for the locals. OTHER PEOPLE!!!
I thought about how God had prepared every step of my education and professional experience to lead me to this opportunity: my degree in child development and family studies, my graduate work in counseling, my research papers on grief, my work at the hospital with children who were grieving the loss of health and normalcy because of illness or injury, supporting kids who had lost family members in car accidents, dealing with my own conceptions of death as I helped intensive care nurses obtain footprints and handprints for the parents of a baby or toddler who had lost their health battle, teaching a seminar on children and grief . . .. . . . ..
The fear, the hesitancy, the disdain for rugged adventures, etc. disappeared in a heartbeat.

to be continued--apparently my car and garage have been broken into---
ah, the sin of humanity. . . . .. . .. . . .. .