The other morning I woke up extremely sad. In 2007-2008 I traveled to Zambia (twice), Mexico, and New Orleans to do mission work. I had the honor of building orphanages, homes, working in a clinic, and meeting beautiful people. I miss it.
I once heard someone say "Pray for the places you've visited and for the places you'll go." I admit that I haven't prayed enough for the places I've been. I forgot about the prisoners in Mexico that I ministered to. I forgot about the people in Louisiana who shared their "Hurricane Katrina" stories with me. I forgot about the family I lived with in Zambia. And now it's all coming back to me, in waves. I spent the entire day overwhelmed. True, I must spend more time praying for these places, but is that all? Does it all end here? Will I ever see them again? Somewhere deep inside of me I know that this isn't the end. I was made for more. We were made for more.
At times I feel like I'm supposed to live in one of these places for three months at a time, leaving everything I know, and doing the will of my Father. I don't know how this will look, but I am ready.
Remembering the word spoken to me.