When I was a child God placed a word inside my heart.
This word was
Africa
.
In kindergarten, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I simply said, “I want to save the starving orphans in
Africa
.”
My teacher asked me if I knew where
Africa
was, and to her surprise, I didn’t, but that didn’t matter to me.
I simply knew that it existed, and that someday I would go there.
Like most
children, I grew up, and the older I got the more my dream was smothered.
Life went on, and I began to desire the things of this world, I followed those around me, wanting to fit in with the crowd.
Africa
became a small hope chest I buried deep inside my heart, only taking it out to share with those I thought could relate.
I am now twenty-two.
I have never been to
Africa
.
I really don’t even know very much about it.
All I know is that it exists, and that I desire to go there and make a difference in more lives than one.
I have never held an orphan, never been around someone affected with aids, I have never seen people that are starving to death, or witnessed life in a third world country.
I sleep in a bed every night, I eat more food than I desire to, I have two parents that raised me and love me, and I have a job that allows me to live very comfortably.
Yet, I desire to go to a place void of all that I have known.
I want to be the hand of God.
I want to feed the hungry, love those who feel unloved, hold those who are hurting, and be the last touch of God’s love to a baby before it dies in my arms.
I want to live a life of adventure, fully alive for God.
I want to wake up each day, not knowing what is in front of me, but trusting that each moment of my life God has placed before me to do his will.
I want to die knowing that I did not live a life of selfishness, but that I made a difference in more lives than one.
I am twenty-two years old, and I will be going to
Africa
.
All I really know is that it exists, and that God is calling me to go there.
I will follow…
