It's funny how dates stick in our heads, isn't it?

August 9th, 1999.

It was the summer before my senior year of high school, and on that very day I was en route back to the United States after a deeply influential mission trip to Africa. From an airport payphone in Texas I called my family, reminding them how much I was craving Mom's rhubarb crisp and Italian zucchini crescent roll pie (staples of our summer days in Minnesota!). It had been a mere twenty-eight days of travel, but how I had missed home!

In the weeks that passed, I did revel in my return to the safety and comfort of home. I devoured that zucchini pie and rhubarb crisp. I soaked up those lingering summer days with swims in the lake and sleepovers with girlfriends and excitedly planning for college.

But something in my heart shifted when I came off the mission field: I deeply missed my African friends and that deeply rooted faith community. For the first time in my young adult life I found myself praying the Rosary and delving into the Scriptures. I paid attention more at Mass, too. I so desired to know Him more deeply (see Deuteronomy 10:12) and that others might know Him, too.

Looking back now, I can see that He was gently cultivating my compassionate, sacrificial, motherly, feminine heart to serve Him a bit more. He was calling me to a story that no one else could tell.

Sisters, I have to tell you that I just love that He gave me that August 9th.

Do you have a day that was a turning point in your own walk with Jesus? When was it? Take a moment today to offer praise and thanks to God for this story that only you can tell.

[bctt tweet="He was calling me to a story that no one else could tell. // Karen Schultz" username="blessedisshe__"]

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