I’m not sure where to start my story. Growing up we went to church occasionally. I do remember a few days at Sunday school, but not many. As a family, we did a lot of things on the weekends and church was set aside. At school we had chapel service, but it seemed to be a ritual that never meant a lot to me.

I wasn’t until years later, when my husband and I had a daughter that thoughts of God came back to mind. We both knew we wanted to find a church where we could feel comfortable and our daughter could grow up knowing about God. At that point I didn’t realize how much I was looking for God also.

When our daughter was in second grade they were talking about Sunday school and church and she asked her teacher, “Am I a bad person if I don’t go to church?” Her teacher assured her that, no, she wasn’t a bad person. It wasn’t a decision that she had to make; it was for her parents to decide. Wow! That really hit us.

After having tried out one church and talking to people around us we found Bridgepoint and have made our home there. Since then all three of us have been baptized and have begun a wonderful journey.

Part of that journey was a trip to the Dominican Republic with members of the church. It was during that trip where I really saw God at work. The theme for the week seemed to be that it all happens in His time. This was evident from the very beginning of our trip. We were supposed to travel from Tampa to Miami to the DR. Due to bad weather in Miami, our new path was Tampa to Miami to New York (yes, New York!) to the DR. By the time we were in the DR, our group had bonded through this experience together and was better prepared for the week ahead of us.

Part of our task for the week was to paint murals on the walls of Casa de Luz, a home for orphaned and disabled children. One of the gifts that I felt I had was to paint. I was looking forward to helping with this project. On the day we were starting to paint, I found myself watching. You see, a young boy, one of the residents, was with me. I could not communicate with him, as I don’t speak much Spanish, and I don’t think he speaks due to his disability. Even with this limitation, we were communicating. After holding my hands and swaying back and forth very happily, we sat on the sofa to watch. He enjoyed the soft touch of my hands on his and was comforted. It was then when I could hear God loud and clear. This was what He wanted me to be doing at that time. Instead of being frustrated, I was amazingly calmed. Before going to the DR I would never have imagined that this was something that I could do. Later on during the week, I was finally able to work on the mural, but what I will always remember is what God showed me through that one little boy.

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