June 2, 2018
I prayed that God would shut the door.
On day two of training (May 28, 2018) one of the leaders referred to the goers (me included) as missionaries. Instantly my entire body rejected this new piece of information as false and I zoned out for the rest of the session. I’m not a missionary, I’m not qualified, I’m barely trained and more importantly I don’t deserve the title. Missionaries are in their late 30’s, in the jungles, transcribing Bibles while mosquitoes feed the next generation with their blood. That’s not me, I’m on my way to Croatian (now Bulgaria) to hang out with little kids.
My plan was to work for two years before going to graduate school. When I read the description of the Croatia placement it sounded like what I had been preparing for the last three years. I could invest in children, get experience on the field and get to travel abroad all at the same time. When I finished the application at 4:30 a.m. I let the Lord know that if it was His will, I would go, very much assuming I would be rejected like so many other applications that I had submitted. As the process continued and I went through the four different interviews it started to get a little less exciting. The Skype call that told me I was accepted was not as joyous as I had anticipated. It was more like Pandora’s box, full of doubts and fears, had been dumped on my waking thoughts. I avoided emails, dreaded Skype calls and tried to fill every minute with Netflix or YouTube.
In the beginning of February, 2018 I went through some very hard and complicated family stuff and on a two-hour drive I finally broke down and begged God to do something. In the following three days, every time I got in my car alone I ended up crying enough to endanger all the other drivers on the road. During my drive home several days later, I heard the closest thing to an audible voice from God in my life. I knew I needed to move to Bemidji. For the second time in 6 months I told God that I would do it if it were His will. For two weeks I dreaded the move and avoided packing until the day I started training at my new Job in Bemidji. For the next three months I spent my daily hour commute pouring out my heart to God, for the first time in my life starting to understand the unfathomable love of God.