Inspired

» Posted by tiastasia on Nov 25, 2011 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

Recently, I had the pleasure of chatting with a lovely young lady who asked me, “how I got into being a missionary person.”

Many, many years ago, (back in the early 80′s I think) we went on a trip to an orphanage in some small, Mexican border town.  The little facility was not equipped to handle all the children that they had living there and I found the infant section the most difficult for my heart to handle.  There were wee ones all about, napping in anything that could be used as a bed.

My heart was drawn almost immediately to one little 4 month old baby girl who had no name.  She was adorable with bright eyes and chubby cheeks.  What drew me to her was the enormous cast she was supporting on her left hip and leg.  Apparently, this sweet little baby rolled off the table that she had been using as a bed, and fell right to the floor breaking her wee, baby hip.

She may have had a name, but no-one seemed to remember it.  I pondered over the parents that I knew and how excited they were when their wee ones smile or roll over for the first time. My heart felt as if it would break as I thought of this sweet little baby girl without any proud parents to cherish her.  Thinking that it may very well have been her first time to roll over and being greeted by a hard floor instead of loved ones’ smiles.

I named her Fernanda, cuddled her as much as I could and prayed over her for a long time before we left that day.  I still pray for her, and often wonder what ever happened to that wee one who inspired me beyond words could ever say.  Maybe we will meet someday, who knows?

Admittedly, there are times when I want to give up and go lead some kind of normal life.  We are but poor missionaries, always struggling to try to make ends meet.  Just when I feel like throwing in the towel, I have another inspiring experience that gives me the strength to carry on.  Like this sweet girl in the photo.  She must have cried on my shoulder for a half hour.  Orphaned, and just 12 years old, she has no one to care for her. Afraid, alone, and un-cherished, she prayed and asked God for help.  “something, anything”, is what she told me.  I prayed with her, we hugged, we cried.  I told her many times how precious she was. And then I picked up the “towel” and decided that some things are just to wonderful for me to let escape thru my hands.