The Journey Continues

It's been awhile since I've written or even visited blogland. But, I want to take the time today to continue the story of my journey into ministry. This is the second post. If you've not read the first post you can check it out at Let The Journey Begin.

In March of 2002, I got a flyer from the American Association of Christian Counselors about a seminar they were offering in California called, "Trauma and Loss". This was exactly the area I felt God pulling me to but a single mom, scraping up enough money to fly from Indiana to California...seriously!! But, God in his infinite wisdom and divine provision made it possible through a tax refund and the fact that my brother lived in Pasadena which was the area this seminar was taking place. He was thrilled with the idea that we would be coming out and opened his home to us. So, my daughter Chelsi and I boarded a plane to Los Angeles (my very first airplane trip and it was love at first take off). The seminar actually took place in Irvine California and my brother graciously drove me there and I stayed at a hotel for a couple days.

The seminar offered many different classes focusing on grief and trauma and its effects on people. But, one speaker in particular really grabbed my attention. His name was Ray Giunta. He was a crisis response chaplain who had just gotten back from 68 days at Ground Zero. He told story after story of encounters he had as he walked amidst the devestation that was left after the planes flew into the world trade center. People were reaching out to him not because he was such a nice guy (which he was) but because of who he represented...Jesus. He talked about how he had a pack he wore around his waste. He filled one side with candy bars and the other side with Bibles. When he walked out to some of the workers to talk with them, he opened his pack and said, "Hey, anybody want a candy bar." The response was, "We don't care about the candy bars but we'll take the Bibles."

After 9/11 people were crying out to God. They were seeking His face in this country like never before. The call to people serving in ministry was great and they needed to be there...I wanted to be there. When I listened to Chaplain Ray's stories, I wanted so much to be there with him. I wanted to hear the stories, I wanted to hug on them and offer a shoulder to cry on, I wanted to assure them that God loves them and that He was still on His throne. But, I thought this idea of being a chaplain was so far out of reach for me...so out of the question.

You see, I wasn't attending a church...don't get me wrong. I loved God with everything I was but I had an issue with churches...religion. (This is an issue I will talk about in a later post) So, to be a chaplain just wasn't gonna fly with me. Who was I to do such a thing and to do it would be embracing religion.

As I left that place, I knew that I knew that I knew that grief, trauma and loss were where I wanted to serve. I wanted to be with people who were going through a crisis. Death, trauma, divorce, whatever the crisis, I wanted to be the hands and feet of Jesus to them.

As I waited at the airport for my flight for home, I picked up a magazine that had articles about people who had survived 9/11 and how they were dealing with the grief. It was a fascinating article but what I didn't realize before I got on the plane was that the front cover of the magazine had a picture of a plane flying into one of the towers. Oops....not exactly something folks on a plane want to see. I was careful to cover it up.

This story is far from over....more later.