“When will it ever happen?” I remember wondering.
I was 18 years old when I first felt God’s call to live in a developing country- perhaps someday with my own family. I had no skills, no degree, no inkling of how I’d be useful to the world.
But a six week stay at a children’s home in Nepal changed my life when I met two missionary families who gave up their perfectly comfortable lives to raise 30 girls in a children’s home. We’d sit round a fire in the bitter winter cold, with bomb blasts exploding outside amidst riots and power cuts, trusting God with our lives and their futures.
“If there is a God,” I remember thinking, “These saints have made His presence real to me.”
At 24, after walking out of a dark tunnel, I remember telling God I don’t think I’d ever find anyone who’d be willing to carry my own baggage and embark on this craziness with me.
Now, 19 years since God put that dream in my heart, and after a heartbreaking year of setbacks, Cliff, our braveheart, our two girls and I are finally setting off to Tanzania. 🇹🇿
I’m reminded- that we’re going not because we’re better, more committed, more skilled or more talented than anyone else. We’re going only because we got to.
I’m now 37. It’s taken 19 years. We packed 14 suitcases. And brought 2 kids. But it was worth the wait.
Thank you for journeying with us. 💛
*Thankful for a small and intimate send-off 💛