Some little girls want to be princesses. The brave ones may even want to be doctors or astronauts. I cycled through many childhood dreams, but by the time I was in middle school, I knew I wanted to be Amy Carmichael.
A missionary to India in the early 1900s, Amy Carmichael served the Lord by caring for children rescued from temple prostitution. Her ministry touched the lives of hundreds of young boys and girls, and her culturally sensitive methods heavily influenced the way missions were conducted for the rest of the 20th century. She never married—and I thought that was amazing.
The stories of missionaries like her inspired me to serve the Lord in another country, no matter the personal risk or cost. And in my mind, that meant I shouldn’t count on finding a husband who would have the same conviction. It didn’t help that at the time I was in middle school, when boys are notoriously obnoxious and the idea of marrying one couldn’t seem more unappealing. But I also sincerely admired the fact that Amy Carmichael had left her home, lived for Christ, and cared for so many children as a single woman; I decided I would do the same.
That commitment always remained, even as I grew to dislike boys (slightly) less. I even dated a guy for a brief stint in high school, but the first nail in the coffin of our eventual breakup was the fact that he had no particular plan or aspirations, while I had a strong one.
“Go.” I felt it stir my soul as I went on my first mission trip. I heard God say it as I researched schools. I read it in my Bible, saw it in my closest friends, and imagined what it might be like as I fell asleep at night. I heard it loud and clear from a Bible translator’s presentation as I kept raising my hand with question after question about his work.
I applied to Moody Bible Institute without a second thought, convinced after a visit to their linguistics program that I was on the right track. Though I was unsure of how Moody would respond, I was certain of my calling. My eventual acceptance was the “yes” I had been praying for.
I won’t pretend I was completely sold on my commitment to singleness. I had my daydreams of the guy I might meet in Chicago, the things we might have in common, the storybook romance we might share. But the reality was that I would never settle down with anyone, seeing as I’d be moving to the heart of the jungle or a remote island. There was no man alive who would choose that life because of me—that kind of calling has to come from God, and I knew I couldn’t settle for anything less. So when I met guys at school and the first words out of their mouth weren’t “I want to be a Bible translator,” I filed them into the friendzone without a second thought.
If you had asked me then if I knew exactly what God was planning for me, I would have said, “No. Of course not. God can do whatever He wants with my future.” But I certainly had a strong idea of what it probably was… and it never once included a guy from back home.
Returning home and meeting Jaidynn was like meeting a new best friend—certainly not a future husband. Until that was suddenly what I was praying for him to be. Until he actually felt the same way. Until we were pursuing a relationship long distance and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do anymore. My school’s missions conference reassured me of my calling, and I remember feeling so excited, yet so distressed. I wrote in my journal:
We talked that night, and he assured me that he knew what he was getting himself into. My dreams and calling were never a secret: In fact, he told me that my passion for missions was one of the things that had attracted him to me in the first place. Though he had never personally felt called to missions before meeting me, my dedication to my calling had led to conviction in his own heart, and he felt he wanted to pursue that alongside me. It was a relief, but it didn’t make the next year of long-distance dating any easier.
Jaidynn represented everything I thought I’d never have and seemed to contradict the plans I’d made for myself. He has desirable skills, a job, and health issues that might keep him from the middle of the jungle or a remote island. He seemed like just the right guy to settle down with in Colorado and leave my missionary dreams to rest. I prayed one conflicted morning:
To my finite understanding, it was impossible to have both. A mission and a mate. Ambition and accompaniment. Calling and companionship. Reliance on God and a realization that I didn’t want to do this alone. In leading me to Himself, God led me to missions. In leading me to missions, He led Jaidynn to me. In leading Jaidynn to me, He led Jaidynn to missions. In leading me to Jaidynn, He was leading me back to Himself all over again. With every conversation we had, every step of growth in our relationship, and every request for confirmation I prayed for, I heard God answering “yes” to my calling and “yes” to Jaidynn.
The cycle repeats itself in this beautiful, messy, painful, and glorious situation that I now find myself in: Engaged, but apart, planning for a future with more questions than answers. But I again find comfort in the words of the woman who was once my hero, though I know now that her story of faithfulness may look very different from my own.
