Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)
My time on the PVT (parent vision trip) was one big step of faith:
From the time of purchasing the ticket to literally stepping out in faith. Before I left, I described this trip as taking a step off of a cliff. I take a step, God brings the ground up to meet my foot. I take another step, God brings the ground up to meet my foot. And so on. He does not put the ground there before my step is taken.
I had never traveled across an ocean. I had only been to another country with others. I had to spend the first night and day there alone, and then I had to travel back home alone. The fear factor was set so high that I didn’t think that I could do it. And yet, as I took a step, God provided the ground beneath my feet.
Before I even left, God was surrounding me with ground and love. A husband who researched vaccines, 2 pharmacists to talk to, a doctor to prescribe them and other medication that I may need, a friend who has been to Rwanda to tell me about the country, resources as to how and whom to buy an airline ticket through, a brother-in-law to make hotel reservations, a nurse practitioner for advice and other needed medication, people who said they would be praying for me, advice about long airline flights, and so on.
Travel was uneventful. God blessed me with a pre TSA check at the airport. He gave me seat mates who were quiet and well behaved. Because I was alone, I was constantly on the lookout for other PVT parents and met several really great people before the week even began, both parents and others.
My hotel stay was a time of rejuvenation and soaking in of love. I suppose you could say that God was pouring into me, grounding me so to speak, before the week began. Take a step; God provides the ground. I met racer’s parents there who would be significant to me for the whole week. Take a step; God provides the ground.
Then, on Tuesday night, as I was stepping off of the bus, I took a step and the ground that met my foot was rocky. My foot twisted a little and made the sound of, “pop, pop, pop, pop” and gave me pain and no support. I immediately felt nauseous and like I was going to pass out. I scooted back up into the bus and fell back onto my seat, elevating my foot. “Oh, God, what am I going to do? I’m going to miss this week. I’m going to have to go to a Rwandan hospital and get a Rwandan cast put on my foot. How am I going to get home on crutches?” All this went through my head as I was trying to keep my foot elevated, my skirt over my underwear, trying to not pass out, and not to throw up. I lay as long as I could, people attending to me and Diana by my side, until the bus driver needed to move the bus. When asked if I wanted to go back to where we were staying, I said, “No. I want to go to Rwandan church.” I was carried by 2 men to a chair outside of the church and another chair was brought to put my foot on. I was given ibuprofen or naproxen right away, but couldn’t take it because of the nausea. Someone soaked a bandana and gave it to me. Two of the racers went on a mission to find ice (very rare in these parts.) One of the leaders of the PVT prayed for healing of my foot before she went into the church.
My foot was swelling and bruising already and as the service began, I tried to sit with my leg elevated and not pass out. I choked down part of a granola bar, took the pain reducer/anti-inflammatory medication and tried to listen to the service. After quite a long time, the 2 racers returned with a baggie of ice and placed it on my foot. I wished that I was in a bed where I could writhe in pain.
In the midst of all this, God reminded me of the song that He had given me for the day. I looked up at Diana and said, “The song God gave me this morning is ‘Gracefully Broken.'” She laughed and I proceeded to say, “It’s not that funny! It will be, but it’s not right now.” At which point I had to give in to a small laugh, because it was, even at that moment, rather humorous. But this was more confirmation that I was really in trouble. God had told me this would happen.
As the service proceeded, it wasn’t Rwandan, or even African. The racers were giving testimonies. One of the leaders (the husband of the woman who had prayed for me going into the church) got up and had the congregation stand and pray for healing for a few of us who were injured. And while they were praying for me, one of the racer’s mothers came out and knelt beside me and prayed over my foot. I felt tingling. I felt like God was saying, “Renee, if you believe that I am healing your foot, then you will have to get up and walk on it.” About the same time, Diana, who had been praying for my foot also, said, “Get up and walk.” So, I got up. I leaned on both of them and gently took a step on my broken foot. It worked. I didn’t feel pain. I didn’t feel like throwing up. I didn’t feel like passing out. Each step was better. Each step got easier. Each step was stronger.
Now, I must tell you, lest you not get the whole picture, I was outside of the church. But you may be visualizing an American church. This church does not look like one of them. In this church, the door (which was open the whole time) was on the side of the building. Not the side at the back of the church, but the side at the front of the church. So, in order to go in to the church and take a seat, I had to walk in front of the whole congregation. And proceed to take an open chair in the front row of the whole congregation. Take a step; God provides the ground.
I walked out of the church on my own feet with no human help. As I was walking out, one of the fathers said, “I prayed that you would be able to walk back to the bus on your own.” Take a step; God provides the ground.
So, wherever you are, wherever God calls you, step off of the cliff, step out in faith and He will cause the ground to come up and meet your feet. He also promises that He will always be with you. Take a step; God provides the ground.
I cannot write this post without mentioning Diana. She is doing well. You would all be proud of her. She is a good, strong, compassionate leader. But, my friends, it’s HARD out there. If you have ever gone on a one week mission trip, multiply that by 2 (for the intensity of this trip) and then by 47 (number of weeks). Add 11 (for travel) and then an exponent of 2 (for the constant unknown). That, my friends, will equal to about as close as any of us is going to get to the understanding of how the World Racer feels. Even when time was provided for us to be together (this was one of their “easy” weeks), there was very little down time and very little time to process. It was one the best, most intense weeks of my life, but I only did one of them! They do 47! So, please continue to pray for her.
And Diana, fight the good fight. Run the race set before you. Endure to the end. Do not give up. Your team of warriors will continue to wage battles for you here at home.
Faithfully submitted by Renee Dvorak (Diana’s mom)
