I have been doing my dream job for the past 8 years.
Since the age of 12, I dreamed of growing up to be a missionary.
An African Children’s Choir came to our church and my family hosted two boys. It was such an amazing time. We had so much fun and I was deeply touched by them.
It was the summer after sixth grade, the last opportunity to attend Penn Del camp.
I went and missionaries to Africa spoke.
I bought the tape of music, and sang the words in Swahili over and over.
I still cry anytime anyone speaks of Africa and feel so privileged to have some friends from various nations on that continent.
At 15, the worship dance company I had just joined was invited to go to Honduras.
My family didn’t have the money to send me, but I dreamed about it anyway.
We were able to raise the funds and though it was only 14 days long, I fell in love with this nation. I couldn’t get the people out of my head, the language. I was immersed and so much so, I experienced culture shock coming back to the U.S.
It was a shock to come back to my home and see how big it was, a shock that we have so many different colors and styles of shoes. Shoes, that are just a necessity for protecting feet- here in the United States, I grew up with it being common to have a different shoe for each outfit. It struck me as the strangest thing in the world that I had pink shoes.
My parents’ home seemed so large. I had previously thought it medium or even small-sized. I was so grateful to have my own room.
This only solidified my desire.
I would grow up to be a missionary to Honduras. I would go to college to learn Spanish and become a teacher.
Well, I did grow up to go to ministry school. It was amazing.
For the first time in my life, I had classes on books of the Bible.
I grew up in public school and never had delved into Hermeneutics.
I love, loved it. Each day was the best, going to a new class and studying the history of many books of the Bible and just everything I loved it so much.
We went on a missions’ trip, to my pure delight, back to Honduras. I had cried as our plane left the ground as a 15 year old. As an 18 year old, I came back to a different Honduras. Even the poor had cell phones. It was wild. So different.
But I still was in love. And dreamed of going back to teach and love on children there.
I came home from that trip, graduated from ministry school (twice 😀 :D).
I went home to PA, living with my parents.
I was directionless, depressed. I thought I had this exciting life and now it felt like a failure.
Then commenced the sweetest season of falling in love with my parents all over again. The friendship & moments we shared during that season are still a foundation of the relationship we have today.
I didn’t have much going on or many friends and I began to spend time in worship and prayer.
Instead of wallowing in sadness and not knowing what was to come, I just dove into study of the word and prayer and reveled in the goodness of a real God, more real to me than I’d ever imagined possible.
From there, I got a new dream. To join a place that ministers to Jesus in worship and prayer 24/7. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week- it never stops.
And here I am, 8 years into this dream.
I’m a missionary to my own country of origin. It’s been so moving to stay. Not to go on the mission field but to stay and love my own family, friends and all of the beautiful people who have come here from so many nations of the world to call the United States home.
Who knows what is ahead, but I’m beyond thrilled to be living this dream come true.
Jesus is God. He’s man. He’s the one who bridges the gap between God in heaven, the Father and us, humans. He gives us all of His inheritance of light and life. In Him, we have the Holy Spirit. The One who draws us into the Father, into the Son and lives alongside of us as a help.
God’s light is never-ending.
In His light,