I've always called myself "sensitive". As a baby, I wouldn't get into any trouble because a stern threat from my mom or dad would make me burst into tears. I hate making people upset, and I get sick when I find myself in an argument. I told myself for years that everyone was right- I needed to toughen up, grow a backbone, etc. etc. I always felt ashamed- why am I like this?
When I was sixteen, I had a dream I will never forget. My family decided to make a quick move to Romania. I remember in this dream asking my dad how things would be the same- Could I still learn to drive? I remember being handed a burlap dress. It was ugly and scratchy and I hated our new life there.
The dream ended, and like others, I forgot about it- but God didn't. I had never even heard of Romania, but God put it in front of my face everyday- a sentence in a book, a show on tv, an article in a newspaper. Somehow I found myself falling in love with an unfamiliar country, and grieving for the overwhelming problems orphans there were experincing. Yet, I was sixteen- right in between starting high school and college, and I wondered why God would give me this burden that no one else at my age would understand. Even my family seemed to act like it wasn't serious- I've always had my head in the clouds coming up with big dreams.
It wasn't until I got to college that God started to show me who I was and what He wanted to do with me using the heart He created in me. I realized that I was a nurterer, and that's what makes my heart happy. I want to work with children, orphans, and babies. I cry a lot- both good and sad tears. God has given me compassion and a gentleness that I have been able to use for His glory. I cry when I'm in God's presence because He has made me so happy. I let the joyful tears run down my face because I wouldn't want to be any other way. As prepare to go to Colombia on my first missions trip this summer, I am asking God to use this fragile heart to bring others life. Let my tears have purpose in Bogota, Bucharest, and Indiana.
