My Story

March 14th will be the one year anniversary of our departure from Romania. I am sure that many events during our years there will never be erased from my mind while I am still on this earth. Some are a dim memory already. It is time to write them all down. I wrote the following over a year ago while we were still in on the field.

It was about a month ago when John told me that he felt like the Lord might be telling us that it’s time to leave Romania. After ten years of being in the ministry, I am not sure how I feel about that. Part of me would be relieved of the burden of ministering in a foreign, post communist country. We have spent years trying to learn the language and culture in order to communicate the gospel. We have given up conveniences taken for granted in America in exchange for third world medical facilities. We have left family and familiarity for loneliness and frustrations. We gave all that we knew how to give, not for the sake of pride, not because we were special but because God asked us to. Another part of me would be excited about whatever adventure the Lord might be planning. Where will we go next? What ministry does God want us to be involved in? What miraculous things will I be praising Him for in the coming year? There is a part of me that would be terrified. We are comfortable where we are now. I do not know if I could ever be fluent in the language but I don’t have a problem carrying on a conversation. I wish that I could say that I have the gift of tongues. However, God decided that gift was only for a certain time period. I do however seem to have the gift of accents. I have done a lot of traveling over my lifetime and it does not take very long to pick up the local accent, totally unbeknownst to me. I have sat with a group of women in Romania on several different occasions and talked with them for a while. They were amazed to discover that I was not Romanian and insisted that I had no accent. Missionary life is far from easy but what is known is more acceptable than what is alien. Saying “Yes!” to God and packing up when He hasn’t told us where to go is more than frightening. After the relief, the excitement and the fears, there is the rest of my heart – the biggest part that will be crushed to leave the friends that we have made over the years. Belongings can be sold or put in boxes and shipped across an ocean, but how do I pack up my heart? Or how can I survive if I leave it behind?

God has been whispering to my heart that it is time to write my story. The words that I have to put on paper will never rival Corrie Ten Boom’s. They will not be considered newsworthy like the sinking of the Titanic and appear in every newspaper and I am sure no one will ask to make a movie about my life. My hope is, however, that perhaps through my journey a soul will be inspired. Maybe the lessons that I have learned will encourage another to step out on faith and live a life blessed by God.