It’s the day I go in for the last of the immunizations. That’s when I pray it … when I really pray it.
It has been — what? — a month since I’ve asked?
“Here I am, Lord. Won’t you send me?”
I’m ready to go to Haiti, I tell Him.
I drive south on the gravel, with rocks knocking against the fenders, and I pray the whole way to the doctor’s office. A nurse will inject the last of the Hepatitis vaccines into my arm. My husband went to Haiti in November, and he said after he got home that I may as well get ready.
“Just get your shots, then you can go when God calls.” That’s what he said.
I believed him. So I started my shots the next day.
That was two months ago. God hasn’t called. Maybe I left the phone off the hook? Maybe He forgot my number?
I pull onto the highway, an asphalt ribbon leading straight to the doctor’s office. It’s time for the last shot.
I’m spiritually ready. And in 15 minutes, I’ll be physically ready. But I’m a traveler without a destination. I’m a missionary without a mission. My heart aches to love the least of these, and I don’t have a place to deposit.
I steer into the parking lot, pull the Acadia between two yellow lines, and walk through the glass doors.
The nurse calls me back right away. I hike up the sleeve, and she asks just two questions:
And when are you headed for Haiti?
Left arm, I tell her.
But regarding the “when?”
“Um … I don’t know. Waiting for the Lord to lead there. Waiting for Him to tell me when, I guess.”
She presses the syringe through the flesh, and I draw in a deep breath. I close my eyes.
With one little prick — a single puncture through the skin — I remember three nails. I’m ready to go to uncomfortable places for my Savior, ready to serve the least of these … for the Most High. I’m ready to live the words I write and speak. No need to fear, right? Isn’t that what I just said straight into the camera?
But who am I kidding? My knees knock. I don’t even know what I would pack in a suitcase. I’m half-afraid, and I’m fighting back fear, but didn’t I just say that the best way past it is to walk straight through it?
I did. I did say that. And yes. Yes, I would. I would walk straight through the fear. If He called, I would.
I tug my sleeve down. I take gravel home, arm still burning. And I say it again: “Lord. Send me.”
Home now, I check the email. A woman, she’s written.
She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know what I’ve prayed. Doesn’t know I’ve just gotten my last shot. Doesn’t know that I’ve even had my first. She has no clue that I desire to serve in Haiti.
But this woman … she has written.
She writes: “We were wondering, would you consider going to Haiti with us?”
And I tell her I will.
I am heading to Haiti March 19-26, with ViBella Jewelry!
ViBella means “Beautiful Life.” He answers a prayer with pure beauty.
ViBella is a mission with a redemptive purpose. Haitian boys collect plastic bottles littering the Haitian countryside, and Haitian women serve as artists.
They make beauty from ashes, treasure from trash.
These women “upcycle” the material from a littered landscape, transforming it into beauty. ViBella then invests all profits back into the artists’ communities, which brings the transformation full-circle.
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What are the God-Things that make you go “Hmmmm?” How has God been stirring in your life?
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I’m eager to read your stories. Your stories are more than coincidences. They are, indeed, God-incidences.