Chapter 18

18.  Fast Forward
My break at home that 1997 autumn was uneventful and I just couldn’t wait to get back to California and my newfound romance.  Mario and I spoke on the phone every night and, boy oh boy, were those phone bills high!  I didn’t share a lot about Mario with my family while I was home and the break was very quick.  Soon I was back in California and Mario picked me up at the airport.  He took me to dinner at his house and I met his family.

Mario has five sisters and at the time, two of them lived at home with his mother.  His 5-year-old niece also lived there since his older sister was a single mom, working hard to make a home for herself and her daughter.  I have to admit when he told me about all those women in his family I was more than a little intimidated.  It’s hard enough to meet the mother of an only son, but to meet 5 sisters and a niece too?  That was nerve-wracking to say the least.  The visit, however, was mostly pleasant and I only shook in my boots twice.  The first time was when I met his 2 oldest sisters, who had driven up to us in the ministry's parking lot. Rolling down the passenger window, both sisters allowed Mario to introduce us. Then the oldest one, who was driving, leaned over and menacingly warned me, "if you break his heart, we'll kick your a**." All of us girls laugh about it now but at the time I thought they might actually be gangsters.

The second time was when his mom took me aside privately to, well, basically ask me what my intentions were regarding her son.  I'd never had a mother of an only son approach me like that. It was kind of scary. But apparently I satisfied her curiosity because after that I was welcomed with open arms and received no further threats from the sisters.

During my break at home I had received a call from the main ministry office asking if I would be interested in attending the directors’ camp as a nanny just before the teams reconvened for the fall tours.  The camp was arranged for a few days up in the mountains designed to prepare all the leadership and directors for the upcoming ministry.  I had met most of them by then and had become friends with one of the couples.  Their little girl was a bilingual toddler, speaking both French and English.  I loved babysitting her while they had meetings and really developed a great bond with her.  While at the camp, my director asked me about my relationship with Mario and I filled him in on our growing feelings toward each other.  I knew that the leadership generally split non-married couples up to join different teams in order to protect team unity and lower the distraction level for ministry purposes. So I expected that would be the decision the leaders had made for Mario and I once we arrived at the general team rehearsal camp in a few days.

When we arrived at the regular rehearsal camp, I was shocked to discover that Mario and I were to remain on the same team.  Confused but happy, I rehearsed with my orchestra teammates and tried to act like Mario and I were not dating [per the ministry rules].  Talk about a tough assignment!  Well, I really had no idea how hard it would actually become. It turned out that it was a whole lot more difficult to act like we were unattached while we toured that fall to places like Hawaii and Colombia.  But even through the hard times, like jealousies and disagreements [we had plenty of those], our director made sure to pray with us as individuals and as a couple throughout the next few months.  During our team’s ministry in Hawaii, it was most difficult to maintain any sort of distance from each other.  I mean, for heavens’ sake it is one of the most romantic places on earth!  Though it was unpleasant at times and decidedly annoying at others, we succeeded in honoring our director, each other and the Lord through the few weeks in Hawaii and later during our tour in Colombia.

From September to mid-December, we played in churches, parks, malls, schools throughout the southern United States, Hawaii and Colombia.  In mid-December all the teams met back in Visalia, California for one last concert together.  By now I had transferred out of the little orchestra, no longer playing the keyboards but singing as an alto in the vocal lineup.  Through the years of ministry with the group I had high aspirations of being a vocalist, learning their warm-ups, the harmonies and lyrics while playing my part in the band.  I thought, “I could give glory to God so much better from up there than down here”.   Good grief, what a stupid way to spend my brain cells!  

Once I was up there in the vocal lineup, I realized that being in the orchestra was actually the enviable position.  In the orchestra, I could play but also watch the audience and pray for them.  I could pick and choose what parts I would play.  I knew that people would watch me but that not everyone would.  As a vocalist, I had to sing my part and my part only, time my vibrato and breathing "just so" to match the others and sing when I might not necessarily feel like it (which was quite often actually).  Everyone was looking at me, all the time and I had to have my “game face” on every night.  That was much more difficult than I had imagined.  Yet it taught me so much about pride & humility, about losing myself in worship and about putting others before me.  Much of what I learned there has helped me in ministry at home and showed me more about God’s forgiveness, grace and mercy than I ever would have learned while behind my keyboards.

Mario and I looked forward to the final concert with trepidation.  We had grown closer through handwritten notes and diaries that we shared but had had very little alone time since September.  Did the Lord want us to continue on with the ministry for the next two-year cycle?  Or did He have a different path for us?  Were we meant to be together forever, as Mario believed? Or were we just there for each other for a season, as I nervously wondered? Separately we prayed about what God would have us do as individuals and as a couple.  

I'll never forget one morning when Mario came to the bus. He seemed like he was floating, and for a 300-pound, 6'3" guy that's really saying something. He couldn't wait to share something with me but we had to wait for all the preliminary preparations to be completed before the bus started moving and we could sit near each other. He whispered, "I had a dream last night. A vision actually, I think." Moved with curiosity, I waited. Still talking in a low tone but no longer whispering he began to share...

"I was driving in a pick-up truck with Robert*, headed up the mountain into the Sequoia National Park. We stopped on a hillside and looked out over Woodlake where all those orchards are," he paused to see if I knew the area he meant. I nodded.

"Well, we were looking out and we could see nothing but trees for quite a ways. And Robert said, 'Mario, see those trees there? That's how many people your grandmother has reached for the Lord.' 'Wow', I replied, 'that's a lot.' Then we got back in the truck and drove further up the mountain. Getting back out, Robert pointed to the west and all we could in the setting sun were trees, stretching to the horizon. Robert told me, 'Mario, that's how many people your mother will reach for the Lord.' Amazed, I said nothing. Getting back in the truck, I pondered all those lives represented by the trees. Suddenly we were at the top of the mountain and Robert pointed to the view surrounding the entire mountain. There were trees all along the sides of the mountains, spilling into the valleys, over the hills, past the bounds of our vision, past the horizon." Mario paused for a moment. By now, I was picturing the scene with him. Once again whispering, he said, "Robert turned to me and sweeping his arm across the view, he told me 'Mario, this is how many people you and Angel will touch for the Lord together."  

It was like the air had been sucked out of the bus, teammates gone and only Mario and I were left. My heart pounded and my imagination whirled. Though he spoke softly, his words hit my spirit like a flood. It locked something into place for me and I saw what Mario had seen. I believed in my heart that we could be a very strong couple for forever, just as Mario had said. It remained to be seen, however, if these feelings would diminish over time as we were about to be separated from each other for who knew how long. We prayed together that day, that God would direct us very clearly and that we would know our next steps.
After the ministry Christmas party and the last concert of the year (which was powerful and amazing), Mario drove me to Los Angeles to catch a flight home.  We stayed with his friends in the city for a day and talked about our future.  We continued to pray together about it and ultimately came to the decision that our time with this particular ministry had come to an end. We would head to our respective homes to see what other paths the Lord had for us.  I was wary about our relationship, even after hearing about Mario's vision, thinking it might have been great while on the road but it wouldn’t stand up to the strains of distance and time.  I knew that oftentimes what we feel so strongly during the "high moments" of ministry times, fades with the onset of "regular life". I thought to myself, “well then, if he's serious and if he really wants me, he will come and get me.”  And giving him one last kiss, I boarded my plane back home to Detroit.

Chapter 17

17.  Understanding Redemptive Love
While it is true that many changes had begun in my life and in my heart, I still wanted to find a way to have fun yet still honor the Lord.  I guessed that I could still go out to listen to good music at a restaurant or bar, or perhaps even go dancing at a club as long as I didn’t drink too much alcohol and flirt.  When I arrived back in California my girl friend and I went to a place where there was a DJ and had some fun just dancing.  But soon our fun was ruined because one of the other patrons there decided we wanted to dance with him.  We let him dance near us for a while but when he put his hands on my hips and got too close to me, I shoved him away with all the strength I had. In anticipation of a problem, I saw several huge guys stand up around the club, watching to see if this man would retaliate against me. Fortunately for him, he backed away from us. Still, our night of fun girl-time was ruined and we left immediately for home.  I have realized since then that I can indeed have fun and honor the Lord, even while dancing, but it has taken me quite a long time to figure out the proper ways to present myself and the fun I’d like to have.

I looked forward to the promise Mario had made me earlier in the month.  My friend and her mother helped me do my makeup and hair the night Mario came to pick me up.  I had brought with me a royal blue cocktail dress, empire waist with sparkles on top and silky skirt on bottom. I would be lying if I said it was a proper skirt length but my goodness, I looked GOOD in it. I was so nervous about going out with my friend, who had quickly become my best friend, and yet had no idea why. For heaven's sake, I couldn't even eat a bowl of Kraft macaroni and cheese and that's saying something there.

“What in the world is my problem?” I asked the ladies.  They just giggled and shrugged their shoulders.  When Mario knocked on the door I took a deep breath, smoothed my skirt and opened the door.  Stepping back to look at me, Mario shook his head and gave a surprised whistle.  Immediately feeling fantastic about everything and smiling at him, I turned to wave at my friends.  Winking at me, they closed the door behind me and I was off on my first date in about eight months.

Mario took me to a place in Fresno, a popular blues spot where some of his cronies would be playing that evening and where I ate calamari for the first time ever.  I was amazed when we walked in and the band members shouted out Mario’s name.  They were still setting up and as he greeted them one by one I realized he must be something special.  These guys were all in their 40’s and 50’s yet they treated him as an equal.  After our appetizers were served, I found out exactly why.  The band leader called Mario up to play and sing with them as a special guest.  The little crowd gathered there went nuts.  I had heard Mario play and sing before but not like that.  He was in his element and it was amazing.  When he came to sit back down with me, I noticed all the other ladies in the place looking at him a little differently, sending flirtatious looks and comments his way.  I was astonished at the jealous feelings that came over me.  “Hmmm,” I thought, “what’s going on here?”  I decided I was just being over-protective of him and made up my mind to thoroughly enjoy this evening with my best buddy. And when Mario took me home that night, I slept wonderfully.

A few days later all the full-time teams met again at the ministry office and loaded our bags and selves back onto our buses.  We went up to the summer rehearsal camp for a bit, each full-time team practicing alone and also with the summer teams.  Then off we headed for our summer tour.  That June through August 1997 would take us through the western United States and up through Canada to the Northwest Territories.  I had never been to see that part of our country before and I knew it was going to be beautiful.  

I was still playing the keyboards and very much enjoyed being a part of the little orchestra.  Some of our teammates had been moved to summer teams and our bus was hosting a slightly smaller group of people.  But we were a family and were learning how to navigate through our individual quirks, occasional disagreements and felt very blessed to have so much talent in one spot.  God seemed to have truly appointed each of us to be there for that specific time.

My health was definitely much better than it had been overseas but I still dealt with the core issues that fear was causing.  From time to time I experienced bouts of emotional distress and of course, there was still the bothersome gastric nonsense.  The ministry time was sweet and precious that summer.  The Lord spoke through me to a group of teenage girls in Seattle, Washington about anorexia and I was able to pray with some of them.  I met several women who were involved in ungodly relationships or who felt unworthy to be loved either by man or by God.  He caused me to use my experiences to minister to them and in so doing further my own personal healing.

I remember one particular evening in the Northwest Territories.  We were in a tiny little church and during the rehearsal I’d had a disagreement with one of the other girls.  Something about I didn’t like her attitude toward me and she didn’t like my tone of voice toward her.  Ridiculous and petty but quite human and kind of normal for being stuck on a bus together.  My heart was still broken about many things.  I was constantly reliving the choices I had made in my recent past, feeling great guilt and condemnation.  Leigh and Nicole had prayed with me and encouraged me as much as they could but I still needed a special touch from the Lord.  It was one of those nights when I had nothing left to give and was feeling spiritually exhausted.  I cried out to the Lord during the prayer time portion of the concert instead of going out to pray with the others.  “Father, Abba, I cry out to You tonight,” I quietly cried.  “I ask You to help me feel Your presence, to accept Your forgiveness and to understand the depth of Your love for me.” Tears streamed down my cheeks as I waited for His presence to overwhelm me.

Putting my hands over my face, as I sought the Lord I felt someone wrap arms around me.  After a moment of letting myself feel loved, I peeked between my fingers expecting to see Leigh there. But there was no one near.  No one was touching me yet I felt physically surrounded by arms of strength, forgiveness and love.  Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes and for once just accepted God’s peace.  I let His love and the knowledge of His redemption pour through my heart and mind, cleaning out all the left-over cobwebs and ugly corners.  

That night I dreamed that I jumped off a cliff into a churning ocean.  The hopelessness and despair sucked me down, down, down into the depths.  But as I looked up at the waning light I felt a sudden shift and a change in direction.  Instead of getting further away from the light, I was literally hurtling toward it.   Soon I was spewed out of the depths, the cold desperate waves and was lying breathless on the shore.  The sensation woke me up and I believed that I had finally been washed clean and had a new life, a new heart for the Lord.

I wish I could say that everyone noticed a change in me immediately but unfortunately that is not the case.  Humans change slowly but as long as we are willing, God makes all things good both for us and through us.  As the days passed I realized that I still felt unworthy in many ways but that the good work He had begun would one day be completed (Philippians 1:6).  Fear still had its hold in my heart but I knew now that when I ran to God, He had all the tools I needed to fight it.  He was already preparing a way to victory for me even then.


The friendships I made that summer on the road have lasted and I cherish each one.  I became even closer to Leigh, Nicole and Mario.  One morning in late July, deep into the Northwest Territories, I opened my eyes and had a sudden realization.  “Oh my goodness.  I’m in love with Mario.”  Never in a million years would I have ever suspected that I harbored those feelings.  Sure, I loved the attention he gave me and I was jealous and protective of him.  But surely that didn’t mean love.  Yet that morning, I knew with all my heart that I’d fallen for a Godly, talented, beautiful man.  I was so excited to get ready and get to that bus to share my "aha" moment with him. Yet when I told him of my newfound feelings later that day in a private moment, he was not too excited.  His exact words were, "Oh Man!" Undeterred I asked him why.  He said, “it’s not that I don’t love you.  But I’m a team leader and you just broke all the rules by telling me this.  Have you told our director?”  I laughed and with a very high degree of attitude said, "no but you can tell the director anything you like. He already thinks I'm a slut."

Frustrated, Mario did tell our director who was absolutely furious.  He told Mario to avoid me at all costs, since I was probably just playing with his emotions and would drop him when the tour was over.  When I heard that I was so angry and it nearly undid all the things I had only recently learned about God.  I was already feeling unworthy of receiving love from a man of God based on past decisions I’d made.  I shared those thoughts with Mario and he went home after one of our concerts to pray for me. The next morning on the bus he took me aside and simply replied, “Angel, if God can forgive you then who am I?  I am not bigger and better than God to decide not to forgive you.”  And that was when I fully understood what redemptive love truly meant.  That Jesus didn’t die for everyone except me, He died even for me.  He paid a price that I was completely unable to pay so that I could be forgiven, loved and free (Hebrews 10:10). Nothing I could do would change that or make Him love me more. His love is not based on my performance or perfect facade but rather on the fact that I desperately need a Savior.

My director and I agreed to sit down and have a chat.  I shared my heart with him, this time telling him the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I held nothing back, explaining that although my passive behavior and thoughtless flirting had led another male teammate to believe I had a romantic interest in him I had no such interest.  I reminded him that Mario and I had become good friends and that I was just as surprised as either of them that I felt so strongly for Mario. I told him that I appreciated his concern and I was willing to submit to his instruction if he was willing to seek the Lord for further direction.  Since the summer tour was ending in one week we agreed to meet again in a few weeks, after praying separately about the issue, just before the fall ministry began to discuss the matter further.

Meanwhile, Mario and I decided that instead of taking a full 2 week break at home, I would come back early to California again so that we could spend some quality time together.  Each August before the break, all the teams would come together and perform a Homecoming concert, giving all the California supporters and families a chance to see the ministry up close.  Afterward, many of us would get together at hotels, at restaurants or in homes to visit with each other before flights home the next morning.  Mario and I went out to eat with a bunch of our friends and then took off for some time alone.  He drove me around town showing me his old hang-outs, old houses, his school.  We stayed up very late and he took me back to the hotel so I could pack up my things. Unfortunately, we had stayed up so late I wasn't able to get any sleep and left about an hour later than I should have for my flight.  Driving me to the airport as quickly as he could, we talked and talked, making our plans for my early return.

I nervously watched the clock as we drove to Fresno from Visalia and I knew I would barely make it in time for my flight, if at all. Now, I'm usually a very timely person but as the previous chapters indicated when I'm in love, I can't seem to tell time at all and am always late. Whether for curfew or, apparently, for a flight. As soon as I hit the doors of the terminal, I dropped every bag but one and quickly kissing Mario, ran for the security check while yelling back for him to UPS my bags to me. I had pre-printed my boarding pass and squeezed through security just in time to see my airplane pulling away from the jetway. I MISSED MY FLIGHT! Though I'm heartily amused today looking back at it, at the time I was mortified. How on earth would my parents feel about me missing a flight because of a boy when they used to ground me for being late for curfew? It mattered not to me that I was 20 years old. I felt like a schoolgirl again caught doing something wrong.  

So, I went back to the airline desk at the front and found Mario just sitting there with my luggage all around him. Apparently he knew I wouldn't make the flight and patiently decided to wait until I knew it too. Surprised that he was still there, I melted into his arms and cried like that little schoolgirl. Patting my head and reassuring me, he helped me gather my things and we transferred my missed flight to another ticket for the next flight out. Then he stood next to me as I called my parents to tell them of the travel changes. Funny but they didn't respond badly at all. All that worry for nothing. As usual. He then took me to lunch and got me safely on the next flight out to Michigan. What a man!

Chapter 10

10.  Shining His Light
I could spend hours telling stories about being on tour that summer but I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with a few highlights.  I'll begin by saying that a bus built in the early 1970’s might not last a whole three months of driving over 5 hours every single day.  In the summer.  Down South.  During a heat wave.  The air conditioning broke.  ......Of course it did.  The bus was about 30 feet long and there were approximately 20 of us on it for at least 5 hours each day. We would get on the bus early in the morning, travel through the day and debark in the afternoon at a church in a different city far from where we'd been the night before. We'd spend the day doing devotions, listening to music, sleeping (lots and lots of sleeping) and getting to know each other. Teammates had come from all over the United States, Canada and even one girl was there from France. We had different denominational backgrounds and I learned much about the beauty of tradition from some of my friends as they learned a lot more about the grace and freedom found in a personal relationship with Jesus.

Our mission was to bring encouragement and prayer support to churches throughout North America as we made our way to a coastal airport to depart for whatever foreign country in which we would perform concerts, bringing Jesus to a hurting world through music. We often prayed for the people for hours afterward as they lined up to receive a personal touch from the Lord. We saw many miracles both spiritual and physical.

Since our team was headed to Nicaragua, El Salvador and Belize for about 3-4 weeks from the end of July to the beginning of August, we started out in central California and made our way through the southern United States from the middle of June to the middle of July. When we were finished with the overseas portion, we'd fly back to Miami and make our way back to California, concert by concert each night for the final Homecoming concert at the end of August in Visalia, California. At that concert, all 7 teams would gather for a special "thank you" concert for the families and supporters of the ministry.

Each person on the team had a job to do and mine was to be the bus cleaner.  Another girl and I had to clean the bus after we arrived at the location every single day.  Every single day.  In the heat.  Without air conditioning (have I mentioned that?).  I remember being sweaty and dirty every single day before having to go inside a new church and be pretty & sweet for a bunch of people I'd never met before. I am a neat freak and hate being dirty at all, therefore while I was cleaning I know that I said words that perhaps were a tad bit colorful and certainly had to repent for later.  Oh well, I suppose you can always say that it "built character" in me.

I must mention here that we had the best director in the history of the ministry and he and I are still good friends today.  He was fun, intelligent, talented and had a true heart for God.  All the girls had crushes on him.  Except for me, of course.  Remember, I had my true love waiting for me at home.  Besides that tiny distraction, the girls on the team really developed strong bonds with each other and we made both hilarious and touching memories ministering, laughing, praying and crying together.  

I now call that tour “the spirit of Toilet Harrassment tour”.  This moniker sets it apart from later tours by being the only one during which a morning was not complete if one of the ladies didn’t get on the bus with a story about a toilet catastrophe at her host home, or the restaurant or at the church.  I remember that we were at a Burger King in El Salvador and one of the stalls had a toilet that wouldn’t flush.  So we agreed that anyone who “had to go number one” could use that one and anyone needing, um, more time should use the other stall.  

I should probably mention that while we generally did one concert per day in the States, we usually did two or more per day when we were overseas. So often times we wore our "concert attire" all day long. That year we had two dresses, a one-piece blue-green A-line skirt with button-down top and a fuscia one-piece A-line belted made of fabric which wrinkled easily and breathed not well at all in the Central American heat.  The ladies all had matching earrings and necklaces, black patent leather high heeled shoes and black panty hose. No, don't worry, I didn't have heat stroke by the end of each day (sarcasm inserted here).

Well, my violinist friend was the last one in to the Number One stall and as we're washing our hands, chattering and giggling, suddenly we hear her chagrined voice, “oh noooooo!”  

“What’s the matter?” someone exclaimed.  

In a deeply saddened voice she told us through the stall door, “my concert necklace just fell off….Into the toilet.”  

Groaning as one, we turned to the attendant – foreign restrooms often have attendants in them – who promptly said, “no problemo”.  When our friend came out, the attendant went in and fished out the necklace with her bare hands (feel free to be nauseous) and proudly tried to hand it to our friend.  Smiling weakly, she took the necklace gingerly between her index finger and thumb and gritting her teeth, she dropped it into the sink.  Washing it thousands of times would never erase what we all knew to be true about that necklace.

Throughout this tour and the next three years of college and other mission trips, I struggled mightily with panic attacks and an irritable gastric system.  Traveling only made it worse.  But I was determined to let God’s light shine through me.  I remember one particular afternoon in El Salvador, we were all visiting someone's home in the mountains overlooking an incredibly large lake and I experienced the same shortness of breath, tunnel vision and clawed hands that I had back in high school during my senior year.

I needed to get out of there but had no where to go. It freaked us out and especially my director, who'd begun to look at me as his little sister (I was 18 at the time). He carried me outside where the breeze from the water refreshed me as the team prayed for me. I was so embarrassed but also was scared. I was questioning the Lord, my body, my mind. I didn't know anything about "triggers" and if I had, I don't know that I could have pinpointed anything specific about why my body had rebelled against me. Of course, now I know exactly what was happening but at the time, it was merely something I tried my best to strive to overcome it myself.

In Belize, I had an intestinal episode that kept me running to find bathrooms at the most inconvenient times and places. Yet I managed to perform at the concerts, praying over others, watching them receive miracles from God and still act like I wasn't becoming more and more terrified of my own body and mind.

Only after my mother went back to college, earning dual bachelor’s degrees in English and Psychology, did the Lord show us that my episodes were bona fide panic attacks and were probably kicking off an illness known as irritable bowel syndrome.  Later when we were armed with this new information, Mom and I went to the doctor.  After many tests and years of searching I finally understood that I had these issues, what triggered them and that would have to learn how God could make a new miracle through me.

Chapter 1

1.  Setting the stage
Growing up as the oldest daughter of Christian music-ministry parents, you’d think I’d have received all I needed to know in order to not make some pretty goofy mistakes in my life.  And of course, I did receive much of what I needed.  I just decided I needed to make sure it was all true.
 
My name is Angel Christine and I’m somewhere in my thirties.  Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with an average build and beautiful straight white teeth, I might be considered a good looking sort of woman.  Regardless of other opinions, I know I am treasured in the eyes of God and of my husband.  I grew up in the metro-Detroit area in Michigan.  Born in the Soo (Sault Sainte Marie) in 1975 to Harold and Gail, ages 20 and 19 respectively, I moved six weeks later to a little town in Minnesota.  My little sister, April, was born there 2 ½ years later, much to my great joy.  After all, it was awfully kind of my parents to provide me with a live doll to spoil, coach, dress up, tease and otherwise try to run her life.  By the time I was 4 years old, we had lived in Minnesota, Kentucky and Oklahoma.  We were settled into a little house in Mount Clemens, Michigan before I started kindergarten at the local public school.
 
Although the doctor supervising my birth believed I'd have developmental problems because my mother had a difficult and dangerous delivery, the Lord proved him wrong.  I was an exceptionally bright student, always participating in the cutting-edge scholastic programs, joining any and all academic or music programs.  I avoided athletics like the plague but otherwise was very active in the public school system through middle school.  Then, after much prayer, my family decided that April and I would be better served academically by attending a private school for my high school years while April started in middle school.  Looking back, for my sake I believe it was definitely the best decision.  I’m not entirely sure April’s experience there was quite as rewarding, however, this is my story.  Wink, wink.
 
I graduated from that Christian high school as valedictorian in 1993 and went to a nearby University the following autumn.  I’d like to say that I prayerfully considered many schools, applying all over the country and carefully weighing my options.  But I didn’t.  We had no idea how to properly apply for scholarships or what deadlines we needed to meet.  Even so, I make quick decisions and am well-known for thinking I know what I’m doing straight out of the gate.  This was no exception.  I enrolled in Latin American courses my first semester, as well as the general required courses but quickly decided that I would make more money if my Bachelor’s degree was earned in East Asian studies.  So I spent a great deal of time and money learning all about East Asian cultures, specializing in the Japanese language and culture.  In the Motor City, this appeared to be a wise choice and a great plan but I really had not sought the Lord as much as I should have.  I think my readers will perhaps agree with this assessment as my story continues.
 
All this information is great, you may say, but what about my spiritual growth and my personal experiences?  Well, I’m glad you asked.