All for One From listening to AVB’s "U Can't Go 2 Church" to my dad cranking up the radio to Dave Ramsey's speech about "I'm blessed" since the day I was born, I have been influenced to become a missionary. I remember taking notes every Sunday on the sermons my dad would preach and watching my mom prepare for her Wednesday night Bible lessons. Every other night our family would gather around in the living room learning new memory verses, reading scripture, or trying to sing praise to God. Day to day my dad's quote rang in my ear: "If I had one-hundred sons I would want them all to be preachers, and if I had one-hundred daughters I would want them all to be preacher's wives." No matter how annoyed I became with the repetition of quotes and sermons, in the back of my mind I always thought of growing to be a great missionary. When I was a little girl, I began taking every chance to learn about scripture and people. I loved studying God’s word at the annual Bible bowl competitions and the seasonal retreats. Soon I realized that those opportunities were not only about the relationship between God and me, but also between people and myself. Less than a week ago I chaperoned a Middle School retreat for our church teens. As I started upstairs toward our worship area, I saw a pair of eyes glaring underneath the stairs. I looked around the staircase to see who it was. It was my opportunity. “Hey, what’s up?” There was no answer. I sat in the darkness stumbling around for words. “Darkness is comforting, isn’t it?” “Yep,” the voice replied. There was more silence deadened by the muffled sounds of laughter in the background. In my head I talked to God asking for this to be an open door to share my story with this boy. Then I began. “When I was your age I had a hard time making friends. I didn’t think anyone liked me or cared about me. I just hid in the dark from nothing all the time. This went on for years as I continued to hide. I even had night terrors, moments during the night where I would be afraid of nothing at all. Some days I would even pretend to be sick so I wouldn’t have to face the kids at school. (Now my throat is permanently swollen because of it.) Other times I would just hide in my closet in the dark. Then I broke down. I got help and I’m better now. Counseling does miracles. Well, I guess you could say ‘God does miracles through counseling.’ I just finished my eighth session and I love life. It’s great!” “I don’t have any friends either,” he stated. He poured his emotions for another thirty minutes while I listened. Finally the local youth minister took over as I thanked God for the opportunity of sharing my story and learning to comfort others needs. A week later I had another chance to share my story. Every fall the Junior and Senior girls have a leadership retreat, and it is a tradition for the senior girls to lead the Sunday morning worship. I, being the only senior, was given the authority to preach my first sermon at this retreat. On the shore of Centerhill Lake, I taught about “Overcoming Obstacles in Times of Crisis.” Forming an acronym out of the word “CRISIS,” I gave step-by-step instructions about how to conquer what was thought to be the impossible. While learning about scripture and relationships, I wondered where I should put my talents to use. It was not until going into high school that I decided in which mission field I wanted to live. When I was in eighth grade, the high school counselor came to talk about registering for my freshman classes. The basics were necessary, but for my electives I followed my sister in choosing theatre and Spanish. Theatre broadened my abilities in front of an audience. Before taking this class, I would not have dared to speak in front of anyone except my teddy bears, but after weeks of practice, I was always the first to volunteer for impromptus and monologues. In one incidence, I was asked to perform a tragedy monologue. My teacher did not say that it had to be true. Thus, I made up a story about when I was in middle school, I yelled at a boy that got in my way. I told him to get a life, but regretted my decision after the paper was delivered the next day. I read about a boy that committed suicide by hanging himself by the railroad tracks. After further reading I discovered it was the boy that got in my way and was ashamed ever since. (I got an "A" and extra credit because I made the teacher cry.) Spanish, over all, was and is my favorite class. It is not only a subject to study, but has become my way of living. The first two years of Spanish were mostly used for learning vocabulary and grammar. Most likely I would have quit if were not for the coinciding mission trips. During my Sophomore and Junior years of high school, my youth group and I went to Houston, Texas, to teach a vacation Bible school. Eighteen hours is a long time to spend stuck in a van with the same people, but the trip was worth it. Until the first Houston mission trip, I never knew how many Americans are Spanish speaking. Every day I would try to understand and communicate with the kids, but I would fail because of the language barrier. This experience gave me a passion to learn the language my Junior year so I would not fail again. Our mission team and I went back to the same church in Houston the next summer. I succeeded. When the children would talk to one another in Spanish, I could catch words and phrases to make the thought complete. By the end of the week, I had not only reinforced my Spanish tongue, but had bonded with the Hispanic culture. Because of this three year process, my mission field became Latin America. Through all the childhood and mission experiences, all my influences have led to my one mission.