"...I just want God to be proud of me.
...I thought he clearly told me what to do and so...I did it.
Ever since I first gave my heart to Jesus- in the kitchen with my mom when I was very young- I have also been convinced that I should be a missionary. Like on the banks of the Amazon, in a hut built with my own hands, translating the Bible for the first time into the language of a previously unknown people group. I felt His smile whenever I imagined it.
Hudson Taylor's 2,000 page story of pioneering missionary work has been my guide...
I love traveling.
I love different cultures and languages.
I've always wanted to work with kids, like as a teacher...
I like adventure and taking risks and...
I love Jesus! I want other people to know him, I really do!
...Doesn't all this add up to a "calling?"
Add to that: the majority of trustworthy adults in my life have confirmed that they, too, think I should pursue full-time overseas missions! When other pre-teens were entranced with the American Girl catalogue, I read descriptions of short-term mission trips in Teen Missions International's annual magazine. If something was in North America or Europe- I mean, come on, you call that a mission trip? I was looking for hard-core.
For awe-inspiring.
Maybe even terrifying.
Sensational,
Radical,
and definitely braggable.
...Just drop a little "Yeah, I'm not gonna see you at the beach this summer, actually, because uh, I'm gonna be backpacking the GOSPEL into obscure villages on a tiny island in the Philippines."
Clouded by naivety and pregnant with energy, I set out to save the world. My best friend would tease me that surely I would "Climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest ocean, preach to millions!" She's the one I told you about, the one marrying my brother.
Did I mention, Dave, that my Dad is a pastor and a pretty zealous one at that? I've always known that the Good News matters. It's worth sweat. Blood. Tears. Martyrdom!
But then, after all this, after feeling like I couldn't choose a course of study for University without really spending some time on the field and figuring out what I should be trained in (nursing? teaching? linguistics?), after delaying college in a family that does NOT delay higher education, after raising over $8,000, I kissed my boyfriend good-bye (oh, did I fail to mention I have a boyfriend? Well, I do and it's serious.) ...and set off for Nairobi, Kenya.
I had three days of training prior to the 4-month internship.
Three days of very broad training with other short-termers who were heading off to Europe (ha), the Caribbean, or elsewhere in Africa.
I knew I couldn't wear pants- skirts were still the only modest attire for women in Kenya-
I knew not to drink water straight from the tap.
I knew God was proud of me.
I was 18 years old."
Anna, I just rediscovered your blog and have loved reading your story. You write beautifully! Your missions/Africa journey are very familiare to me as I spent several highschool summer on missions and delayed college for 2 years to intern with a missions or and then travel to Africa for what was supposed to be a 9 month trip. I had similar ideas of what my future held, non of which at this point have come true. Looking forward to reading about what came next in your journey!
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