Sitting on my comfortable pew in church today, thoughts of Haiti kept overriding anything the preacher said. All I kept thinking was, “Only forty six more days until entering a foreign land. Forty six days to prepare for this life-changing experience!”
And, then the adrenalin rush that comes with fear made my body shake. Tomorrow I will travel to Pittsburgh to get the first series of traveler’s shots. I’ve never had any of these vaccines before, so that nagging fear kept creeping into my thoughts. “What if you get a bad reaction to the shots? What if the nurse messes up and gives you too much of the serum? What if, what if, what if……” You know how Satan loves to play with your mind. I thought of every “what if” possible, and then something snapped me back to reality.
As Pastor Ray kept speaking words of assurance from God’s word, I realized once again how small my faith really is. My faith is wee small. Baby small. Tiny, squeaky faith. I was sitting next to my oldest daughter, and I wanted to cry in shame. She’s shown some amazing faith in her life! And, here’s her mom. Her mom that is supposed to be this strong woman of God. Instead—-baby faith.
And, then I prayed this prayer, “God, help me to trust you. I mean really, really trust you. I know you’re trying to dig deep into my life. I know you’re knocking at the door of my heart. I can hear you. But, I’m so afraid to let you all the way in.”
True confessions, friends. I hate change. I absolutely, positively hate any kind of life changes. And, I already know that this trip is going to kindle the fires of change within me, and I’m still trying to buck the sytem. God sure has His work cut out with this ole gal!
When I came home from church, I decided to look at Steph’s Haiti pictures again, and one picture seemed to speak to me more than any other today. This little girl’s eyes seemed to be looking right at me. They dug right into my heart and seemed to say, “What are you afraid of, lady? You have everything you could ever need or want. Most of all you have Jesus walking right by your side. Think of me when you’re getting those shots tomorrow. I wish that somebody — maybe even you — would bring shots to my orphanage so I wouldn’t get sick anymore. Don’t be afraid, lady. Just think of me and think of how happy you should be because you have Jesus.”
And, on day forty six, I’m thinking. I’m thinking constantly of this little sweet soul in the pink dress with those beautiful, big brown eyes. Tomorrow when I get my shots, I will cling to this picture, and I won’t be afraid. I know I won’t be afraid. I will think of Jesus and the little girl in Haiti with the pink dress calling out to me.