There are times in my life when I feel called to do things or go places.
I felt called to go to Susquehanna University, where I met my husband and my best friend - and learned more about myself than I did about any academic subject.
I felt called to send my two eldest to a homeschool theater opportunity one Spring, and as a result we now blessed to have a homeschool co-op home at Epoch Arts, where my kids study everything from Latin to Zombies.
I felt called to send my kids to Camp Calumet in Freedom, NH, and there we found a second home - a place that calls to us when we're not there, and calls forth a sigh of relief every time we arrive there.
And now I feel called to join a trip to Israel hosted by the pastor of my church. The anxiety induced by the thoughts of long flights, trying to eat gluten-free in a another country, and being in completely unfamiliar surroundings pales in comparison to the pull my heart and soul feel to make this journey. My initial thought when hearing of the trip was not I want to go, but I need to go. My ten-year-old daughter had the same response - a need, she said, as if her spirit was being pulled there.
And so I await details, and pray, and try to figure out how on earth we're going to raise $7000. Seven thousand dollars.
But when I think of it - all that money - and what it could do in our lives, from paying bills to home repairs, guilt mocks me for hoping for this. Reason laughs at the prospect of us ever being able to raise the money in the first place. Then God whispers, Go.