It was an opportunity, there in Uganda where we lived.
She needed a place to stay. We had room. Well, when we weren’t hosting others.
So many factors, really, had sifted out what felt like the remaining solution: It was time to leave.
Among the factors: My husband’s job (he was moved to leadership, and had effectively mentored a national to take over his position). My kids’ education. Other family factors we batted back and forth, scouring for solutions until it seemed this was really the only way to love well.
Maybe it’s been chewing at you for awhile–or maybe the idea just came to you: Hey. Wonder if I could actually do this gig.
Maybe you’ve realized how overwhelming the need is (to the tune of 1.3 bill who haven’t heard).
Or maybe you’re just willing to go anywhere, do anything, following the King.
(If you haven’t thought that? Just ignore those last two paragraphs.)
And here’s the reality: Some global workers come back earlier than they planned.
Years ago my husband had a friend who was contemplating starting his own non-profit (oh. And he had a family with six kids. So there was that.)
Our friend decided to take forty days to fast and pray, in search of what he should do.
At the end of all this fasting and praying, my husband wanted to know: Did God show you what to do?
I’ve written before that my husband’s and my decision to shuffle our family of six overseas wasn’t perhaps as clear as we would have liked. But when I finally arrived overseas, y’know the funny thing? Everyone’s story and path on how they got overseas was completely different.
None of us had heard an audible voice, to my knowledge. That would have been nice, considering all the times you wonder what in the world you’ve gotten yourself into; all the times you’re second-guessing because the work and the results didn’t look how you thought. Did I hear you right?