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I wonder what Matthew felt like when Jesus said, "Follow me." Was it suprising? Was it scary? Did it make him angry? Did Matthew follow Jesus right away? Or did Matthew have to digest this request...?

At the risk of offending people, I have to say that when my husband was assigned to a certain area of the country, I was the most reluctant follower God has probably ever seen. Well, the most reluctant wife, for sure!

We had both finished our seminary studies, and my husband was waiting for a call to be assigned to a particular area - we didn't know where we would end up. We were home in California, and David was serving as interim pastor at a nearby church. David had said on those "mobility forms" that he wanted to be in the southwest to be close to our aging parents. He mentioned that he desired to be in a Hispanic area so that I could continue in Hispanic ministries. South. West. We didn't think that was so difficult.

We were excited at the possibilities. Maybe we would be called close to home in southern California, or maybe even Nevada or Arizona - we love the desert! Perhaps Colorado - oh, how we love mountains! Or Texas where countless positions are advertised requesting help in Hispanic ministries. We didn't think too much about it: David had his interim ministry, and I was busy being a case worker for Spanish--speaking families who had children with developmental disabilities. That was my job before I left for seminary, and I was honored when they took me back as a senior bilingual case manager. I loved my job, my co--workers, and the chance to minister to people in need - all the while speaking Spanish! I was very happy.

I remember the day so well when a certain synod bishop called. I'll never forget it, as a matter of fact. It's as if it were this morning. I was expecting - about six weeks along - and was excited about our second child. My thoughts were much more on the baby than on anything else. I had just come home from going to garage sales and had seen a beautiful oak crib. I was telling my husband about it when the telephone interrupted us.

I only heard David's end of the conversation. I didn't need more than that to figure out what was happening. "Hello? Yes, this is David Berg. Yes, we are settling in at Reformation. Yes, the Korean church is getting a new pastor, and we are excited to have him come! Hmmmm. Yes. Oh! Oh? Western North Dakota? Oh! Well, do you have a large Hispanic community there? Oh, ... only three or four families in the entire area are Hispanic? I don't understand. Oh. We're assigned to Western North Dakota then. Well, how did that happen? No, no, I'll be glad to receive their phone call and talk to them. Yes, between Bismarck and Minot. Oh, I'll be sure to share this with Con. I'll call you back later this week ... Nice to talk to you too ... Have a good afternoon."

I sat down. I gave David a strange look as he continued to stare at the phone in his hand. He didn't look right at me. "David. What is it?" David shared the fuller conversation with me. We had been assigned to Western North Dakota. I couldn't believe it.
My emotions ran the gamut from happy to get a call to outraged that our request for an opportunity for my ministry to be considered was ignored to understanding that there was such a great need for pastors in the rural areas of the country. David explained that it just wouldn't really look good for a new pastor to refuse an area assignment. He asked me to consider it.

Wow! In a three--minute phone call, my life was turned upside down. Forget about being close to family. Forget about Hispanic ministries. Forget about continuing a career - the bishop had said the area was very rural. I had to take several deep breaths in the ensuing months as I experienced anger (I hate the process - the bishop doesn't even know us and he's making us move so far!) to grief (what about my chance for a career?) to depression (I'll be so homesick and will feel so isolated). I was so distraught that I lost the baby I was carrying. I was even more outraged at the feeling of being forced into this.

David brought me out of my depression. He sat me down one day and asked if I could consider a short call, and then he would move anywhere I needed to go so that I could pursue my career. I thought I loved him a great deal, but that day I loved him even more. We prayed about this move together. We talked (and talked!) to experienced pastors - both who had to go long distances and short. We talked to our parents and brothers and sisters. Finally, we were ready to say, yes, David could consider a call. I could concentrate on our daughter and would find something to do. We called the bishop back.

The bishop had eyed a certain church but the pastor hadn't announced his resignation to the congregation yet. Once the pastor announced his resignation, we had to wait for the church profile and papers to be submitted. Everything took time - lots of time. It was six months before the process was complete and we could talk "call." On David's birthday, we went to North Dakota to "look around."

What beauty! I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Vast, open fields buried in snow. We saw an eagle the first day we were there, flying low above what looked like an iced--over lake. A big snow owl was sitting on the fence watching us as we pulled up to the home of one of the call committee presidents. We stayed for four days and it was both interesting to see the land, exciting to meet the kind people, and great to spend time with two deeply caring, committed call committee presidents: Larry and Myron. They loved their parish, they loved the parsonage, and they were committed to finding a pastor.

The whole process took eight months. By the time the church could have us, we were ready and eager to go. We had a great time driving cross--country, showing our daughter Kjrstin the Grand Canyon and other interesting places along the way. We added layer upon layer as we headed farther north. It was very exciting!

Now when I look back at that time, I thank God for the chance to have those eight months to prepare mentally for the challenge ahead and to adjust to the transitions I would have to make. I also wonder what God thought of me. Not the most willing follower, huh? But God didn't give up on me! In North Dakota, I had opportunities to write, to tutor third-- and fourth--year Spanish students and to come home every now and then. I had close friends inside and outside the parish. I learned so much from our first call. Practical things like how to plant and harvest, can food, survive in winter storms, and do Hardanger embroidery. And I learned more important things like trusting in God to put us in the right place as He watched over us in rural North Dakota.

This reluctant follower finally felt a deep sense of peace on the great northern plains: I knew I had to be where I was at that time in my life. We gained much in David's first call: patience with each other, trust in God, and a deeper level of communication with our family. We received many gifts while we were on the western side of North Dakota: friendship, patience, understanding, humor, and countless other blessings.

But the greatest blessing for me personally came nine months after we arrived: a son named Andrew!