I remember when my husband Steve first suggested that we sell our small homestead in Tooele County to “downsize.” Let’s just say I was less than convinced. After all, that home with it’s amazing views of open alfalfa fields and a gorgeous mountain backdrop, had been a place of healing for me.
Since we had moved there 5+ years earlier I had continued to heal from the PTSD that had plagued me for years. I could tell that he felt very strongly however so… we agreed to pray about it. That way he could realize that he was wrong. (Yeah, that one has backfired on me before.). As it turned out I too received a strong feeling that we needed to sell.
I actually made a deal with God that if we could have palm trees and warmth I would sell my home. Steve agreed and we began to look for our home in Southern Utah. It was only while praying as to what part of that area we should move to that we realized that we needed to serve a humanitarian trip before we bought our next home.
At the time we were volunteering with Operation Underground Railroad, an amazing organization that rescues children from human trafficking. This is a cause I have been passionate about for years.
As a survivor of both rape and Domestic Violence where I had been held captive off and on in my home, I could relate to the themes of human trafficking. For the past few years I had been volunteering, fundraising, and helping to spread awareness for that organization.
I reached out to them to see if the answer to my prayer could possibly be an answer for them as well. They said that they had been thinking about the possibility and we agreed to talk the following day about where they needed us to go.
THE CALL TO HAITI
Have you ever just known something?
Yeah, this was one of those times.
The night before my daughter and I had been discussing all the possibilities of where we might go. I turned to her and said, “Actually, if we go anywhere we’ll go to Haiti because I’ve already been called to Haiti.” I told her of the time when I was a young girl in a seminary program for my church where I had received a mock “missionary call.”
Even though it wasn’t real I remember my teenage heart and mind jumping a bit at the excitement as I opened the envelope. My eyes scanning down the page I found and read the line “You have been called to Port au Prince, Haiti.” All those years later, as an adult, the call I received the following morning was simply a confirmation of what I already knew.
We were going to Haiti.