How I got here (part 1)

Well, since I finally have a little bit of time, I'm going to attempt the story of how I ended up here. It's a rather long one, so I'll probably break it down into a few chunks. I guess it all started back sometime in elementary school. I was saved when I was 4 1/2, not long before my family moved to Texas. I remember as far back as first and second grade being fascinated with missionary presentations and not being able to shake the feeling that maybe God wanted me to be a missionary. I remember sometime around fourth grade a man coming to church and anouncing a missions trip and I was so upset because I was not old enough to go. I decided right then and there that if the opportunity ever arose for me to go on a missions trip, I would do it. While we lived in Texas, my parents were in charge of our church's bus ministry. That meant that on Saturdays we spent almost all day visiting the families of the kids we picked up on Sundays. Much of the time I hated going, because we were gone for a long time, and it was always so hot, especially during the summer. Looking back, I can see God's direction in my life starting even in the visitation that I didn't like. Many of our families were Hispanic, and when we visited on Saturdays, we would invariably be invited into their homes. My extremely "spiritual" (ha) memories of the visits were the times that these families would prepare food for us, usually from their native country. They were so hospitable, and the homemade flour tortillas and other things they made for us were so delicious. The Lord was using this time in my life to plant a love and burden for Spanish speaking people in my heart. I don't doubt God's sovereignty in leading my dad to an area so heavily populated with Hispanics. I did, however, doubt his wisdom when my dad informed us that we would be moving to Georgia the summer after my 6th grade year. There were many things I knew I would miss about Texas, the top of the list being my friends. I did not look forward to starting jr high with a group of kids I didn't know. I was also upset that I would not get to study Texas history. Weird, I know, but when we studied it in 4th grade, I became so fascinated that I could hardly wait to get to 8th grade when we could spend the whole year studying it. Of course, Mr Russell made almost every school subject fascinating, but history just topped it all, and I just couldn't wait. And now that I was so close to 8th grade and Texas history, my dad was saying we were going to move! I was not very happy at all about the whole idea, but I really didn't have a choice. Actually, I had the choice in how I reacted: I cried the entire trip to Dallas, which was 2-2 and 1/2 hours.