"Don't tell people your dreams, show them."
[click here for Part 1]
Six years have gone by since I sat around that fire pit, sharing with others that God was calling me to the mission field. Six years that have held ridiculous stories, incredible growth, changes in place and relationships - but one solid dream. I have dreamed of Africa - Sierra Leon, Rwanda, Tanzania, Ethiopia, Egypt, Malawi...Africa.
Rewind the tape to 2010 and join me in Venezuela. My team was traveling around the country sharing the Gospel through a short drama called Freedom. It was on a Sunday, our day of rest, that I found myself, four teammates, and one translator trying to get back home after church. Our whole team had split up and attended several different local churches that night and were to be back at the hotel by 9 pm; it seemed, though, that this wouldn't be happening for my group.
The six of us piled into a particularly rickety looking pick-up truck and began making our way down the mountain road that led home. We didn't make it two blocks before the truck began coughing, sputtering, and clunking. Our driver spoke no English, and after a few attempts at conversation our translator was convinced the man spoke no Spanish. We jerked as the truck came to a halt three blocks down the road, and our gibberish-tongued driver hopped out and began walking back up the hill toward the church; the rest of us sat for a moment staring at each other before stumbling out and trudging after him.
It was all laughs from us as we piled next into an old VW bus that, in the end, wouldn't stay on long enough to drive ten feet. But our final transportation sent the group into hysterics: a clunker of a car that I would have been skeptical of if I had bought it brand new. It was made to seat only three extra passengers, and came up to our translator's hip in height. Somehow, all seven of us crammed into the tiny car - four in the back, John (our translator) in the passenger seat, and me with my knees tucked up to my chin perched on top of the console. I was careful to keep my feet out of the way, but every time the driver had to shift gears he had to tap my foot and point.
During the drive I had a chance to share my dream, which was, at the time, just a year in the making. I looked to my teammates for advice, encouragement, and what wisdom they could give me; it was John, though, who's words have stayed with me. He told me to treat this dream of mine like a pregnancy (bear with me; I thought it was funny too). He pointed out to me that babies who are born prematurely rarely survive; the mother must give the baby time to grow inside of her before it can be expected to survive in this world, and even then it is iffy. Dreams are the same, he said, fragile and in need of nourishment. If you're going to have a dream, you're going to need the patience to see it through to the end, to give it its best chance of survival.
I had no idea how long it would take, how long I would have to let this dream grow and take root inside of me before it would become a reality in this world. But now? Now I can see it within my reach. There is only a little more waiting to be done and...
Well, I guess you'll need to come back to the next post to get the "and what". But, as you go about your day, I hope you remember the words of my friend John. Remember to treat your dream as the beautiful, fragile thing it is - in need of care, time, and dedication. Never give up, but never forget that sometimes you might have to wait.
May the Lord keep you!
-Bekah S.
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