I met a woman a couple months ago who has a mission. Tabitha is from Uganda, a country where there is much poverty. Ki-Mombasa, a village in Uganda, is home to women and young girls who out of necessity are prostituting them-selves for the equivalent of 30 cents. Tabitha is building a community nearby to get these girls out of poverty and prostitution. Many people are engaged in this project and have already started a poultry, fish and vegetable farm using a technique called aquaponics. She contacted me to discuss the progress they have made and also to discuss a new venture: building a sewing center.
This organization has already acquired 32 sewing machines, with a commitment of another 200. Another donor has promised two containers for shipping this equipment to Uganda. A building has been set aside there for this project, but it needs a lot of work. Tabitha was laying out for me all that she needed to make this project a success: an architect to help restructure and per-haps expand the building, a designer to configure the space inside, and tons of fabric, thread, etc. As we were adjourning the meeting, my head was spinning with all that was needed for the farm and sewing center, as well as expanding the existing clinic and building a new hospital. As we were walking back to our cars, I heard a small whisper, “Invite her to the makeover party.” What? Usually when I hear a small whisper I disregard it or talk myself out of it. For whatever reason, this time I listened and responded. “Mary Kay has a new mud mask that my friend, who is a consultant, would like others to try; would you like to go to a makeover party on Saturday?” Even in my mind I was envisioning all these women conversing around a table with mud on their faces, not a comfortable environment to get to know a person. However, she said yes.
We arrived at the party, were introduced briefly to the others, had snacks, and then settled down to remove all makeup and apply the mud. As we were waiting 20 minutes for the mud to take effect, we went around the room to tell a little more about ourselves and what we did. When Tabitha started talking about her project in Uganda, I saw God at work and realized why He wanted all of us together. I must have looked quite comical with my eyes bugging out, jaw dropped, with mud all over my face. The host is an interior designer for hospitals and clinics, her brother is an architect, and all the women around the table sew and have tons of fabric and supplies they would love to donate. Plus, one woman had just bought a new sewing machine and was wondering what to do with her old one. I watched and listened to the excitement as business cards were being exchanged and plans were being made for our next meeting, still with mud on our faces.
I was amazed at how responding to a simple internal whisper could produce the biggest “God-moment” I’ve ever experienced. I wonder how many others I have missed?