In a couple months, my husband, four young daughters, and I will move to a little village in Uganda called Maundo. I doubt you would find it on a Ugandan map. When I found out moving there was a possibility for my family, I had feelings of utter joy and excitement, shortly followed by fears and doubts.
This was something I always wanted to do - help the orphans and the widows. I have talked about missions, the oppressed, and the orphans for as long as I can remember.
The seeds of this desire were planted on the mission field at the very beginning of my life; I spent the first three years of my life at an orphanage with my family in Reynosa, Mexico. Now the opportunity I’ve dreamed about for many years has fallen into my lap.
While the move was still in the possibility stage, doubt began weaseling its way into my thoughts like an unwanted friend. Fear snuggled into my arms, close to my heart like a sick child, and the voices started to come:
“But I have four daughters and there is so much disease and sickness…This place is in the middle of nowhere… I finally, for the first time in 23 years, feel a part of my church… I have great neighbors and a lovely home… My husband would be giving up an incredible position that provides well for our family… All my extended family, which I love dearly, lives close by…"
Where was God in my thinking? Where was the One I fettered my heart to twelve years ago? As I began to lay down each fear and doubt, the noise lessened, and the still small voice of truth could be heard faintly again. I started to remember my God.
I was surprised and angry at myself for the feelings I was wrestling through. I really had to fight for faith...