What's Next...

When you lead short term mission teams, you are often wrapping up the planning for the trip you are taking in 6 months and beginning to plan trip you will be taking in 12 months.
Last April, while I was finalizing airfare for our team of 15 going to the Dominican Republic, I was feeling the urge to really begin praying about what I was going to do to serve in 2011. It was becoming clear to me that I was due to serve and not lead.
Kevin and I have been supporting and following Mercy Ships for years. We were introduced to them 18 years ago, before we were Christ followers, when we happened upon a ship, called the Anastasias, moored in Wilmington, North Carolina. Out of curiosity, we took a tour, put our $10 dollars in the collection box and filed the experience away under “that was cool.” Many years later we began to financially support the ministry and follow them on Facebook. (If you don’t know about them, check them out. They are an amazing ministry.) Anyway, for the last few years, I have asked God why do I have such a heart for a ministry who I have nothing to offer? They “employ” surgeons, nurses, doctors, therapists and other professionals who can give up 1-2 years of their lives to serve on a ship somewhere in Africa. Clearly this was not a fit for me. I began reading about humanitarian projects Mercy Ships was doing in Haiti after the quake, and teams in Africa (who do not live on the ship) who dig wells and purify water and teach about Aids. I jumped through some hoops and applied for a position to serve on the Mercy Ships Community Development Team in 2011. I was only able to give 6 weeks. My application was rejected since they require community development people to be on the ground longer. They did however offer me a less glamorous position in the kitchen or dining room. I really felt like my heart was in community development and this would not be using my strengths for the Kingdom. Kevin and I talked about it and he reminded me that we don’t always know what is best for us and God may have a plan for me that has nothing to do with clean water. After about 8 emails back and forth with the recruiter in Texas, I had pretty much decided that I was going to join the Africa Mercy in January for 5 weeks. My plan was to get past the Dominican Trip and let them know. Then…
The week I was leaving for the DR, I got an email from Dennis Mangum from EOMS letting me know that a team of 3 guys were going to Haiti in April to put two water systems into an orphanage and a refugee camp. Did I possibly want to join them? My first thought was, “There is no way I can swing 6 weeks in Africa in January and another week in Haiti in April, so I was thinking, “No to Haiti in April.” I would work it all out when I get back in July.
Fast forward 6 days, my first night in the DR, I woke up at 4:37am and had to use the bathroom. Using my cell phone as a flashlight, I opened the bathroom door and found myself face to face with a rat. By the time I realized that I was in the bathroom with a rat, I had already shut the door. He ran past me in an attempt to exit under the door, to no avail. I stayed for two reasons. #1 there was a very good chance that if I scared him enough he would go back out the way he came in, and #2, I really had to go! After jockying for position for nearly 10 minutes, he was worn out, perched on the edge of the bathtub and I was able to go…standing up, ready to run at a moment’s notice. During these ten minutes, I was saying over and over again, “Okay God, what am I supposed to do with this? I am sure it will get worse than this. I told you I will do anything for you.” I finally went back to bed, and laid there as stiff as if there was a burglar in the room with me. I never really want back to sleep that night. I got up the next morning feeling like I had been hit by a truck. The whole next day, feeling very out of my element, taking “showers” with a bucket and a cereal bowl and knowing that I was sleeping where rats felt at home it occurred to me. I was the odd one. Most of the people in our world sleep with rats and don’t have clean water to drink or bathe in. God was trying to get me comfortable with being uncomfortable. So the next night I asked Him, “Where are the rats Lord, in a ship in Africa or in a tent in Haiti?” The answer is probably both, but I left the DR knowing that Africa was on hold and I would start a dialog with the guys about Haiti in April. Brock had been sick the week I was gone. When I got home, the first thing he said was, “Mom, please don’t go to Africa in January.” I said, “Don’t worry, I’m not.”