Disclaimer: With the move and all the talk of missions work, quite a few questions have come from some about the reasons we are doing this. I have several reasons I could share, and if time allows I will, not to get a thumbs up from people, but to clarify and explain our thoughts and reasons for doing what we are doing. It is part of our process and I think it worth sharing.
Toby and I were talking the other day about that moment in time where we just knew we were called to missions. We have heard so many people describe their "called moment" into ministry and usually they hear a voice, dream a dream, see angels descending, or some other great and marvelous moment in time. We thought and thought and there just wasn't one. I am not belittling anyone that has experienced anything like that, but it just didn't happen that way for us. It really evolved over time. God put us in places and opened doors until we are where we are today....at the door of launching into full time missions, living in another country, learning a language, and helping with an orphanage.
One of these "called moments" for us happened in Vietnam. We were there adopting our oldest daughter and our experience there had been blissfully happy until this particular night. We were taken to an wonderful Vietnamese restaurant for dinner in Ho Chi Mien City. It was a lovely evening and the heat of the day was slowly fading. Night life was in full swing, so we decided to walk a few doors down to check a little clothing store that specialized in handmade items for babies. The items were beautiful and I was drawn to the handmade quilts in the back of the store. As we stood talking to the store owner, we heard a banging on the glass front of the store. Looking up we saw a lady holding a dirty, practically naked, little boy up for us to see. She was frantically pointing at us and pointing at the little boy. Puzzled, we went back to our conversation. The banging started again, only this time louder and more frantic. Once again we turned to see the same lady and in greater flurry of frantic pointing and waving. Toby asked the shop owner what was going on and his reply was that she was poor and probably could not provide for the child, so she thought she would give him to us. The look on our faces must have been one of grief, because the owner sent a worker to shoo the lady away. We finished our purchases and exited the store. Two steps down the sidewalk and there she was standing before us. She asked in broken English, "You American? You American?" Nodding, we tried to side step her, but her pleas became even more frantic. Finally, she tried to put the little boy in Toby's arms. Not wanting to draw attention to us and make a scene, we told her no and tried to get way from her. She chased behind us until we were almost running. I guess we finally reached an area that she wasn't as comfortable or something, because we realized she was no longer there. Slowing, I turned to see her standing clutching the child. My heart broke. What would drive a mother to try to give her child to perfect strangers? What could be so terrible? This was not a case of neglect. It was not a case of I don't want this child. There was a desperation in her face I have never seen before or since, and her face still haunts my dreams at times.
No, we didn't see angels, we didn't hear voices, we haven't had dreams, yet we have had all three of these.
Our angels were not so angelic....they were dirty, hungry, and poor.
Our voices were frantic and desperate.
Our dreams, they have been haunted.
We have been asked, "Why GO?" Why leave the life we have? Why drag our kids to another country and culture? How could we not? There are many that are just as desperate as that woman was in this world. They are hungry, dirty, and spiritual poor. My heart aches. It is not an option. God has called, we MUST answer.
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