Why?
Why, God? She was a student missionary--isn't that supposed to mean something?
I knew immediately when I heard that a student missionary in Yap had been murdered. My heart and stomach sank as I read the online article about Kirsten Wolcott.
I first met Kirsten while running with the Southern Striders. Now I will be the first to admit that I suck at running but Kirsten sure didn't. She said that she started running back in high school and worked her way up to running for 50 minutes everyday before class. We both ran in the Race for the Cure in Chattanooga.
After that, I enjoyed seeing another familiar face around campus, especially when I walked into the Student Missions Orientation class one day.
We both decided to be student missionaries.
Later in the year, Kirsten, Danika and I shared a room on the Student Missions retreat. Sabbath afternoon of the retreat, a group decided to go for a hike. I really couldn't decide if I wanted to go or not but Kirsten kept encouraging me to go. So I did. And it was fun--going up! But... well, if you know me, going downhill (especially when up high) is a bit hard for me to do without having a heart attack. As the rest of the group bounded down the hillside, I slowly inched my way down. Kirsten stayed right in front of me the whole time. We chatted all the way down, and in between my constant apologizing-for-going-so-slow and her don't-worry-about-it-response, I learned that we really had a lot of things in common.
After that experience, I took time to journal a prayer to God--and in it, thanking Him for Kirsten's friendship.
And I want to do it again: Thank you Lord for Kirsten's friendship.
I don't think she ever knew how much that afternoon hike that we took meant to me, or the time that we spent praying for each other's upcoming missionary year.
Thank you Lord. But it was to short.
So here I sit. In a dean's office at a small school Adventist boarding school in Tennessee. I'm not 8,000 miles from home and my mission field doesn't consist of a bunch of 2nd grade students on a small island. Instead, I'm only 3,000 miles from my family and I have 23 beautiful teenage girls in a high school dorm. You know, for some reason I keep trying to sell myself short because I choose to do task force and only 3 hours from the school I was attending. I didn't choose to rough it on an island somewhere. I didn't have to learn a new language. I still have running water, electricity and Internet. I still talk to my parents almost everyday... How is that considered serving on the same level as my friends who are overseas?
But tonight, as I sat in front of 23 girls trying to give them a 'worship talk'--well, I just sat there: choking back tears, not having the answers, and asking for prayer.
Four prayers were offered. 24 hearts broken. I was amazed and blessed by the words spoken by the girls--through the girls. I am here for a reason. This is my mission field. These girls have experienced similar losses.
We ended with a challenge: tell those who you love--tell them that you love them--don't twitter it, don't Facebook it, don't text it. Call them. Don't wait. Tell them that you love them.
The phone was busy tonight.
As for me, I can't wait to see my family again in just a few days. I also can't wait for the day that I get to tell Kirsten how much her friendship meant to me.
I can't wait to tell her face-to-face.
Me, Jessie and Kirsten on the way to the Race. ^^
The whole group! (And I was taking the picture...) ^^
For more info:
