A time for Joy

I was born here in Oregon, but spent 4-5 years in Mexico as a kid because my parents were missionaries there. I knew I would never be a missionary.

Clearly I'm Mary.

My sister was always the responsible one, my brother the smart one, and I - I was the creative one and the baby of the family. I would be the kid setting up my stuffed animals so I could draw them, making tiny paper stars, painting fake wounds onto myself, writing truly awful stories, or sculpting tiny versions of things out of clay.

When I was 16 I went on my first missions trip alone. I spent the summer camping and staying on church floors across Europe. I had been a Christian for as long as I could remember, but as much as I wanted to know God, I had always had a difficult time really believing. Then, on Royal Servants I tasted the relationship that today I cannot live without. It was this same summer that I felt God calling me into missions. Where though? I asked, but the only thing I really knew was that it would not be to Africa.

With this background, my plan developed into an Art major at George Fox. I figured I would focus on photography and use that overseas… somehow.

My family - I'm on the left

I’ll take a break from my story to tell you a little more about myself. I find it my personal mission in life to entertain anyone who happens to be close enough to hear me (and, to the dismay of some, that is quite a large radius). This comes out in my nursing too – I feel like my day is going well if I get my patients laughing. I once had a schizophrenic patient look at me like I was crazy and ask what “this” was as he imitated me dancing next to the dynomap. It’s not my fault the O2 takes so long to read. I laugh easily and feel rude if I don’t smile at everyone I see. I love dancing. I love driving with my window down. I love having a whole afternoon to read.

Oh, and you know that feeling – when your heart speeds up and you almost feel sick from giddiness and the whole world is suddenly put right – essentially the feeling of being in love…

That’s how I feel in airports. But back to the story.

During my second semester of my freshman year, there was a missions conference at my school. I decided to go in and walk around the booths. A man I spoke to told me that people overseas will respect you more if you are actually working in their country. Discouraged, I kept walking and met another person who told me about a labor and delivery nurse in Indonesia. My heart beat faster, and I knew I wanted to do something like that. I was upset for a second when I realized that I would have no medical training at the end of my four years. Then it hit me. I could. Within a few days the change was official.

But we still have the problem of where I would end up. I dated a guy for a while who was interested in missions in Africa, and it was probably during that time I first allowed the idea to enter my heart.

Not my cat... but I love cats

I completed the prerequisites for our nursing program and after applying was accepted. During the welcome ceremony I heard about a trip our nursing program does every two years. It was to Africa. Again, my heart beat a little faster and I knew that was what I would be doing. I was going to Ethiopia. But, as you may guess, my plans never go according to themselves. The trip was cancelled, but I felt an assurance that one way or another I was going to Africa. Our professors are amazing, and they arranged for three of us girls from the original trip to be a part of this trip – this adventure to Kenya.

So this is me, and this is my story. I’m about to have my first taste of what I hope will be my life work after five years of asking God where and what and three years of nursing school. I read this verse the other morning:

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart”

I felt strongly that God was telling me the verse is being fulfilled in this adventure to Kenya. This wait is finally over, and this is a time for joy.