Lifted

You’d think someone who had spent the past 20 years in ministry, who felt called by Matthew 25:40 to serve the most vulnerable, would have no issues trusting God. But the minute I stepped into that cavernous garage one day in June, I questioned where I was being led. What the heck am I doing here?

Lifts ran down one side of the space. Tools and auto parts hung from the walls, spilled out of cabinets. The air smelled of engine oil and axle grease. The room was a cacophony of male voices. Nothing like the quiet church I was used to working in.

I walked toward the source of the noise, a knot of young men half my age—18, 19 years old. Suddenly everything went quiet. Some 20 pairs of eyes stared at me.

“I’m Cathy Heying,” I said. “Here to start automotive school.”

The burly instructor, Dave DuVal, said, “Join us, Heying!” It was more of an order than a welcome. “First, pair