Saturday's Breakfast
It wasn't an ordinary Saturday, that's for sure. Anything but. Admittedly I was a little nervous. I get that way when I am about to meet new people. Believe it or not, I am a bit of an introvert. Stop laughing, it's the truth. I'm shy, kind of. Anyway, we had plans, a 9:00 AM breakfast with my husband, 2 other couples--involved with his Congo trip and 2 couples who were retired missionaries. I really didn't know what to expect. How old were these people anyway? Were they going to be boring, tell scary stories, talk my husband into moving to Africa? Seriously, all these questions and many more flitted through my mind as we drove into the city. That's what us locals call Chicago--those of us in the suburbs, we're cool like that.
We got there early. I am phobic about being late. Most likely because my husband is the exact opposite. He'll be late to his own funeral. Really, I promise you! So there we were 1/2 hour early, we parked the car and then saw that our friends had arrived early too. They were there to put our names in for a huge table of 10. We had time to kill while waiting for the others, so my friend thought it might be a good idea to give me a tour of Northpark University--for some reason she thinks I might be attending seminary there in the near future. The campus just happened to be right across the street from the restaurant. Interesting how that worked out! I instantly fell in love with the quaint campus, its old brick buildings and warm fuzzy atmosphere. Ugg. I did not want to like it there. No, I wanted to kind of not like it there. More on that later though. This is about the missionaries. Just remember this part about the university for later updates. We'll see, yes, we will see.
When we all had arrived we were escorted upstairs to a large table where we could all sit, get to know each other and have breakfast. First off, let me tell you, it was the cutest little Swedish restaurant, with 2 stories and also an outdoor patio. Next time I'm eating out there! There was also a Starbucks down the street. And as much as I wanted to head strait there--I knew there would be plenty of time for that later--down the road--as in, another time when I might be attending seminary. Oh brother.
We decided to split up--men on one end, women on the other. I was much more interested in hearing about the good, the bad and the ugly of visiting an African village than hearing about water treatment facilities. Hey, just being honest here. So there I was sitting at the table with 2 women from my church who had volunteered to go on this trip and 2 women who had volunteered to not only go--but to live in Africa. And not on a short term basis either. One had lived there for over 40 years, raised her children there and would go back in a heartbeat. The other had lived there for over 30 years and had arrived in Africa with a 4 week old baby in her arms, and she wanted to go back too! It was then that God began to speak to me. Quietly, oh so softly.
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