A long way from home/the mission begins

There are only three other occasions where I left home. The first time was back in 1990 when I joined the Ohio Army National Guard at the vulnerable age of nineteen. On October 10, 1990 I became a soldier. I joined the service out of duty to my country and in honor of my father, who passed away the previous year. He was a soldier too. I turned twenty years old ten days after leaving for basic training. That was at Ft. Dix, New Jersey, which was right next to the Atlantic ocean. Sadly, I did not take the opportunity to see this vast coastline. I was away from home for four and a half months. The second time came when I moved to Kentucky for a short period and lastly to northern Ohio on July 3, 1999. I'd never been away from home no more than a weekend. When I left for Louisiana I wasn't sure when I would be home. I knew I wasn't going to stay as long as I did on any of the previous trips. At times, I struggled with the thought that I abandoned my wife and children. I wanted them to be proud of me. I did not want to let them down. I felt guilty at times for all the other times I had let them down. I was there to support my family and be a part of what Jesus called the great commission. If anyone wanted experience in the mission field this was a field ready for harvest. Everywhere we stopped I would place bibles, tracks and small, pocket size crosses. Truck stops and gas stations were hot spots for ministry. I was honored to be a part of something greater than me.