Beginnings | Two
Having never been on a mission trip before, I was not prepared for the battle of spiritual warfare. I tend to carry guilt for leaving my family, for not being there to care for them, even it’s just getting my hair colored. I hate asking for money, so raising support for the trip gave me even more anxiety. Actually, I decided to sell my best camera lens, so that sale provided half the cost (I really wish I had it back now!). Another great fear of mine is flying –is there a pattern of fear here? For years, I refused to go on any vacation that required a flight after a few sketchy ones coming home from NYC.
It’s not just the flying. It’s also being stuck in a tube with no obvious external air supply. I remember when I boarded the plane and found my seat, my first action was to move the little vent-fan-thing right on my face. Oxygen.
The worst part was that my dad suddenly needed this major surgery. It was some sort of abdominal aneurism for which they were going to have to cut him wide open. Blood scares me, too. Anyway, the surgery carried a lot of risks, and it was scheduled to be the first Monday of the mission trip. Not like I could ask him to delay it. They couldn’t get him in sooner. I cried a lot. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Dad said to go. Those more experienced than me in missions also encouraged me to follow what God was calling me to do but to also know that it was my choice. They prayed with me. And I went.
My brother sent updates the day of the surgery and sent a photo of dad smiling in recovery. I’m not sure why I even thought God needed me home to manage things in the first place. He does have the whole word in His hands.
My youngest son, Ezra, who was six at the time, was obsessed with being an artist. He surprised me with the photo you see here hidden away in my backpack. I prayed the whole flight and kept that beautiful work of art in front of me.
God taught me so much, even prior to the trip. There are always hard decisions to be made when we decide to step out in faith. For my second mission trip to Scotland, I even missed Ezra’s 7th birthday. Yet everyone lived. ;)