I must admit I was one of those people who never really wanted to go to Africa. Even though my parents were missionaries there for a season. In spite of all the testimonies I had heard I never had a desire to go. Our missions pastor would ask me every year to teach at the senior pastors and wives conference. I always had many reasons why I could not go. However before my father passed away the last missions trip he took was to Africa. His body full of painful cancer he went. He poured out his heart and life because of his love for the people there. I knew that I was supposed to go. Without any expectation we made the trip. While in the country of Uganda I preached at one of the last churches my father had preached at. When the people found out who my father was they came and told me their testimonies of how grateful they were for my parents and their ministry. Our team then went to the conference. While serving there I realized why my parents loved Africa so much, it was the people. I went on the trip hoping to be a blessing. In the process I was exceedingly blessed. One other thing to mention was that while I was teaching at the conference it was my fathers second birthday in heaven. Although I missed him terribly I knew that I was right where I was supposed to be, in Africa preaching the gospel.