All the walls around me were stark white as I stood in front of the doctor for my leprosy screen. Yes, leprosy. Yes, me wearing next to nothing for a leprosy screen. I remembered thinking, “ I didn’t even know leprosy was still a thing. Really?”
With a sigh I tried not to roll my eyes when the doctor remarked disdainfully about my red toenails. I guess this Hungarian doctor was not accustomed to such toes.
To live as a missionary in Hungary many years ago, I had to complete a series of medical tests in order to receive my visa. And you know, when I signed up to be a missionary nobody told me that.
Nobody said, “hey, by the way, after you get there you will have to go and take off all your clothes so their doctor can make sure you aren't a leper. You will also have to have a chest x-ray done in a machine that most certainly leaks radiation.” Of course, if someone had mentioned that I very likely would have changed my mind altogether.
Such were my days in Hungary. For two years I lived in a small Hungarian town sharing the gospel with the the university students who resided there. Those two years were filled with memorable moments both of the marvelous and exasperating variety.
My missions experience there turned out to be . . . not what I expected. Not in the least.
I certainly did not expect the whole leprosy thing, or the craziness of the post office bill paying system, or riding the wrong trains in the wrong directions, or the mouth-watering goodness of their food, or the helpful nature of its people. I least of all expected to fall in love while living there.
For me, living in Hungary was a turning point in my life, a stepping stone into a future I did not expect. Those two years turned into eleven years of full time foreign missions. Now, I'm back. Back in the land of my birth and itching to tell my story in the hopes that I can encourage other women to step upon the stones waiting for them.
Read my book and journey with me and laugh at me as I share with you the years that changed everything.
With love and thankfulness – Stacy Dyck