As I sit here, on my couch, next to my wonderful roommate in our apartment furnished by those that love us, I think about women around the world.
Women of different color, religion, and roles in life.
I think about sacrifice. We're asked to give everything that we have for all of the people of the world--to serve the least of these, because that's what Jesus did, and I want to know Him and be like Him.
The women of the world: black, white, Muslim, Hindu, Nonreligious--all need to hear of the freedom of my Savior.
But why me? Why am I going? What makes me even CLOSE to qualified?
Someone recently told me, "If God couldn't do what He wants through you, He would have chosen someone else."
While, that's reassuring to know, it still doesn't answer my question. Why me, a white girl who has been blessed her whole life, not knowing real trauma or pain...why am I the one to go and share with these women? These women that have grown up broken, that have never known real love and have experienced so much in their lives that I couldn't even imagine.
And I'm going.
To do what exactly, I'm not really sure. I don't know much of anything, really.
But I do know that God has a greater plan. And that in my worries, fears and doubts, He will be glorified. And in the end, that's what really matters anyway.
