At Asbury University, where mission trips abroad were practically a rite of passage, everyone seemed eager to venture beyond US borders. I admired their zeal, but the idea felt foreign to me. “Why wouldn’t God call you to the mission field?” a friend bluntly asked. My stomach clenched. Was the mission field only outside the US? Did my volunteer work at the local homeless shelter not count?

The question gnawed at me. Conversations turned into frustrating dead ends. Then, one night, a vivid dream plunged me back into my childhood home in New Jersey. A pack of ferocious lions, teeth bared and eyes blazing, lunged at me. I woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding. It was a visceral reminder of the fears I’d buried: worries about finances, anxieties about leaving the familiar. The dream shook me, revealing a truth I hadn’t faced – my resistance wasn’t just about logistics, it was about fear.

“Okay,” I whispered, “If this is where you want me, I’m ready. Lead me.” The answer, when it came, wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t a booming voice or a blinding light. It was a quiet assurance, a sense of peace settling over me. “Good,” it seemed to say, “Now that you’re ready to go, stay here. Your mission field is right here, in the faces of these middle schoolers facing the stormiest age of their lives.”

Middle school is my mission field. Here, amidst the awkward smiles and nervous laughter, I witness the metamorphosis of childhood into adolescence. Bodies stretch, minds awaken, hearts grapple with newfound uncertainties. In this crucible of change, I have the privilege of being a guide, a mentor, a voice of encouragement. Every smile, every breakthrough, every whispered “thank you” reminds me that our callings are diverse, as unique as the snowflakes on a winter’s day. So let us stay open, hearts receptive to every path God presents.

What’s your calling? What’s your passion? You can have more than on. What are yours?