When you think of a missionary, a blurry image probably comes to mind. You might think of a brave soul, one of superhuman faith, without sin, walking daily in miracles the rest of us long to see once in a lifetime, joyfully giving up privilege for the sake of the higher call… Wait a second, that’s not what I thought of. When I thought of a missionary, I thought of someone who is socially awkward, wearing clothes that look a little funny, who talks about things normal people don't care about, a person forced out of their own culture and striving for acceptance in another.Then I became one.I didn't set out to become one and to tell you the truth, I actually laugh when I think of myself as a missionary. Honestly, I have no place in my mind–at least no place that a real human being could inhabit–under the category of 'missionary'. They can be a saint or an oddball, or probably a bit of both, but a normal person with fear and desire, sins and forgiveness? Never. When I went overseas..
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