On Tuesday I had an appointment with my shrink, and when I mentioned my upcoming missions trip she went on a tirade about how much she loathed India. She said it's the most depressingly horrible place she's ever visited. She then stated someone like me will be absolutely miserable. Not uncomfortable or challenged, but absolutely miserable. All this from a professional who's entire job is to help keep my anxiety in check.
She's not the first person to say something slightly less than encouraging. Just this morning someone I don't even know said, "I hope you have an iron stomach. A friend of mine went on a missions trip there and had bad GI
symptoms the whole time. Still had a good time, though."
Still had a good time, though ...
Every day a new challenge hits me in the gut. Like the amount of medication I'm having to ingest. If you know me, then you know I'm super weird about pharmaceuticals. It's taken me years to surrender to anti-depressants. I can't tell you how much I suffered from heavy, suicidal darkness because I refused to be "a pawn of the pharmaceutical companies" or to "poison my body."
Anyway, this... (not including the hep-a shot that gave me a rash)
I know I sound like baby. But that's my point! I'm a huge baby. I prefer the luxury of my comfort zone rather than the vast unknown. But I heard the call. The relentlessly loving and challenging call of God that's impossible to ignore ...
Somewhere deep in my heart, I know this trip will be amazing. Spending time with fellow Christians in one of the toughest, most harrowing places will be an enormous blessing. Helping those orphans will be an even larger blessing.
And if I die from malaria or cholera or typhoid at least I will have gone out reaching my goal weight.