This is a creative non-fiction piece I wrote for one of my classes this semester, and it’s essentially the story of how God called me to do this crazy thing! I hope you enjoy!
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This mission trip to Peru is supposed to be a one-time thing. Well, it can’t hurt to pray about it. My mind is already made up, but I reluctantly agree to consider this possibility of dedicating eleven months of my life traveling to eleven different countries to show people around the world through my words and actions that they are loved. I’m in no way qualified. It’s a long time to be away from home. Not to mention, it’s expensive. I sigh and sit down on one of the wooden stairs cascading down the hills toward a tributary of the Amazon River. As I stare out in front of me, my mind is in awe. I never thought I would be here either. I watch the water flow steadily, reflecting the hues of the bright blue sky as it travels downstream. I glance up at the tree looming over me, filled with a fruit called a “mamé.” The beauty of this place is incomparable. No one else is in sight; it’s just me and God.
“I know I said I was going to be open to whatever you want me to do in this next season of life, but this is too much. There’s no way you want me to do this,” I say aloud. I voice my worries and concerns, bringing to light the seeds of doubt and roots of fear that have been planted in my life. Looking for some kind of confirmation of my own thoughts, I finally stop talking and start listening.
I want you moving like the water, I hear Him speak to my spirit.
Every ounce of me hopes that this simply means moving to another city or state to find work after graduation. But I know in my soul that this is more profound. I tell myself that this can’t be God. I immediately dismiss it as having been my own thought, but deep down I recognize it as an all too familiar voice that doesn’t belong to me. I hesitate and say, “God, if this is you, I need another sign—like maybe a boat or something—” Practically before I can even finish my sentence, a boat appears out of the corner of my eye.
I notice that it is traveling upstream, and that’s when I hear, You may be going against the current, but I still want you moving.
I’m not supposed to be taking a year to volunteer around the world. That’s not a part of the plan. I’m supposed to go to grad school or get a job. The current is pulling me in that direction with such force. Those are the only two options I’ve seen in front of me. But suddenly, this third door has appeared and swung wide open, inviting me in.
***
Days pass as our time in Peru begins to come to a close. The wooden door of our room swings open as our little friend comes running inside, “…nadar!” He is talking so fast that the only word we can pick out is “swim.” The rest of the girls and I decide on a whim to quickly change into our swimsuits and run down the hill, following after him. When we reach the bottom, we see that the rest of our team is standing on the top deck of a three story boat. The faded white and blue paint is covered in scrapes, but it’s holding up just fine as it is rocked by the waves.
I see them take turns jumping into the water two by two, staying close to avoid being pulled away by a current that challenges the strongest of swimmers. When they see the rest of us heading in their direction, they gesture for us to join. A hand reaches out to help me step up onto the boat as I’m careful not to slip on the muddy shore. I follow everyone up the stairs, ducking under and stepping over any obstacles in my way until I reach the top. On the highest level, there’s no railing, and I venture to the edge, carefully curling my toes over the side. My jumping partner is beside me, neither of us ready to take the leap. We stall for as long as we can before everyone shouts, “Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” There’s no time to hesitate.
I cast comfortability aside and jump into the waves.
