Defining Moments

I think we all have moments in our lives that define who we are, define what we are meant to do with our lives for maximum impact, define our need to keep going in spite of our circumstances.

I had one of those this weekend.

I’ve known for a while that I feel like God has called me to start writing, but I’ve allowed fear to hold me back. Fear that disguises itself as busyness, procrastination, and laziness. But I could only ever see how this “calling” could benefit me. I mean, sure, I had this hope that it would allow me to reach people and make a difference, but in my mind I saw it as a potential solution to my problems.

Boy did Jesus mess that up for me. In the best way possible.

You see, I never knew where this “calling” came from. I didn’t grow up with a desire for it. I don’t have any experience with it. I don’t personally know anyone who does it as a career. I still have barely dipped my toe into its waters. Yet, it’s something I feel deep down inside that I’m supposed to do. But I never knew why. I didn’t see the purpose in it.

Then, this weekend, I went to Walmart. Yes, my defining moment involves the store that has some how attracted an entire culture of humans that seem to come from an entirely different planet with photos of such evidence in the part of the internet that also seems to be set aside just for them. Insert eye roll here.

Anyway, let me give a little back story.

About a month ago, I went to the Walmart to grab a few things for work and had an experience that I will not be able to forget for as long as I live. Now, I’ve heard several stories from people I actually know that involve lurkers, creepers, and potential human traffickers, but I had never been so close to the evil myself. Until that day.

I have ZERO physical evidence to back this up, but when you get a check that loud in your spirit that is all the evidence you need.

I had just parked my car and, as I was getting out, I noticed a van. It wasn’t shabby looking. It was a large blue van, with one of those cheesy antenna decorations, and an A/C unit hanging out of one of its windows. And two grown men sitting in the front seat. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. One of them seemed to notice me as well. To say the least, I was a bit freaked out. I hurried inside, grabbed what I needed while trying to process what I was feeling about that van, and headed back outside. I really wasn’t inside for very long at all. When I walked outside, my eyes immediately went back to this van. As I walked to my car, I glanced in that direction and then all around me like I was trying not to be obvious about looking at them, because for some reason I didn’t want them to notice me noticing them. But then I was like, screw that! I want them to know I see them! Again, one of the men was looking right back at me.

By this point, I was fighting the urge to do two things: 1. get in my car and drive away as fast as humanly possible 2. wait around to make sure they didn’t leave there successful in their mission. I got in my car, locked the doors, buckled up, backed out of my parking spot, slowly made my way around the parking lot, and pulled out my phone to call 911. Just before I hit send, a police officer came pulling into the parking lot. I waited a minute to see what he was going to do. I watched him pull up behind that van, stop long enough to grab the Florida plate number, then pulled around into a nearby parking spot. Knowing I had nothing to offer, having not actually witnessed anything, I went on my way and prayed until I got back to work.

I know I didn’t see anything happen, but that day shook me to my core. So much so that I hadn’t gone back to that Walmart until this weekend. My mom came into town, and she wanted to get me some things for my new apartment. I was reluctant to go there at first, but I gave in since we had been shopping all weekend and I didn’t feel like going all the way across town. But as we were leaving, a woman was asking if she could follow us to our car so that she could grab the scooter my mom was using to bring to her grandmother. We were by the bathrooms when she stopped to ask us this, and there was a man standing nearby her. Now they may not have been together, but my alarms started going off. Neither of us was prime real estate for trafficking, but there was still the very real possibility that she was an aid in us getting robbed.

I didn’t want to react unnecessarily in case I was wrong and just still shook from my previous trip to Walmart, so I allowed my mom to take the lead and immediately began praying. I mean I prayed more in that short 5-minute time span that I had all week! Thankfully, either I was wrong or my prayers were heard. Whichever it was, I left Walmart that day with my mind going 90 to nothing. Once we got in the car, I told my mom how I felt about this Walmart and the experience I had had before.

It wasn’t until we had unloaded the car and I was on my way to grab us dinner that I really let my mind process everything. I began to think of all the kids, teenagers, young adults that are taken everyday and sold. I began to think about the possibility of one of those kids being one of my nieces, nephews, or cousins. That’s when anger really began to rise. For a whole minute, I allowed the idea to enter my mind that I could join the police force, become a detective, and fight to put those people behind bars.

Then I came back to reality. Knowing that simply wasn’t my calling, the anger subsided and my heart began to break. I asked Jesus how I could make a difference when I don’t have the money or skills to do anything. That’s when He showed me what He had called me to do. And just like that a story formed in my mind. A story that has to be written. A story that no fear or procrastination or laziness can keep from being told. A story that has a purpose.

That’s when I watched the two dots of my calling connect. God used this defining moment to show me the why to my what. And now I feel like I have what it takes to push through the fear, procrastination, and laziness.

Now I feel like I don’t just want to write… I feel like I have to.