The calling was one I received early on in my first year of high school, on my first trip to the Dominican Republic. It was a calling I wasn’t too sure if it was from God or my own desires to continue the experiences I’ve had on my one-week missions trips.
The opportunity came for me to speak to the director of the orphanage in October 2016 to present the idea of me volunteering in Guatemala full time starting sometime in 2017. Everything came so fast, I barely had time to really think about the idea of “my dream” becoming reality and the work it would take to accomplish it.
The meeting happened on a Saturday in a Starbucks right off the highway. Two days later, that next Monday, I had received confirmation from the director that I had been accepted to serve on the Casa Shalom team. Right then, I felt a burst of joy, as what I’ve been dreaming about was actually coming true. But was/is it God’s calling?
I kinda kept quiet over the next few days, as I really started focusing on the meaning of the word “calling” and if it’s my own or God’s. So far, all the doors seem to be wide open for me. I don’t know if that was just me hoping for things to work out, or God’s hand in it all.
Wednesday morning on my way to work, I was a little more than halfway there when I turned the radio off and prayed aloud to God. “Is this what you want for me, God, or should I continue on in a ‘normal’ job? Is this my will or yours?”
As I was saying these things, I was in the right lane, going about 60 mph behind a semi on a 70 mph highway. My exit was about a mile away, and I had looked back to see if the middle of the three lanes was opened to quickly speed up and get past this truck before exiting. The lane was empty, with the closest car being about a quarter of a mile behind. As I started speeding up behind the truck to make my move, about 65-70 mph, I was halfway over, and another car going almost 100 mph in the far left lane moved over without blinker or warning to me.
Not by my own doing, I was quickly able to slam on my brakes and shift back over behind the truck, being about 3 inches from serious injury or death, caught between the truck and the speeding car.
That was my sign. God saved me from months of hospital stays, therapy, and recovery to do more than working in a cubicle. I know I could’ve rolled myself into the office sometime later in my wheelchair, but I was created to run, skip, and jump my way onto the mission field.
This journey is one that I am working hard to pursue, not for my own joy and self image, but one for the children of Casa Shalom. I have gotten rid of more than half my closet and continue to build upon my design skills for the work to come at the orphanage. The only things left are to set a date of departure and purchase a one-way plane ticket! I will keep you all updated on the progress that happens within the next few months.
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(har)Perseverance on a mission 