Texas Faith and How God Led Us to Scotland

From Stirring to Sending

If you had asked me a few years ago where I saw myself today, I would’ve painted a picture of small-town Texas life—raising our kids, serving in our local church, and finding joy in the everyday rhythms of home. I would’ve told you I was on my way to finishing my Bachelor’s in Human Resources, ready to finally take a step into my career after so many years of faithfully supporting my husband’s as a military spouse.

Scotland?
Sure, I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember. The rolling green hills, the castles, the history—I’ve had a quiet devotion to Scotland since I was a child. But actually living there? That was something I tucked away in my heart like a fairytale. It felt more like a dream than a real possibility.

And yet, that’s the beautiful—and sometimes bewildering—way God works.
He takes what feels secure and expected… and gently invites us into something bigger, riskier, and eternally meaningful.

A Whisper, Not a Shout

It didn’t begin with fireworks or a lightning bolt. It started with a stirring—a whisper during worship, a heaviness in my chest, and a single word pressing on my heart: “Go.”

I didn’t know where. I didn’t know when. But I knew it was Him.

Then one day, Calen came home from Stonewater Church and dropped a thick, multi-page missions brochure onto my lap while I was curled up with the flu. “Flip to page 49,” he said.

There it was—Scotland. Listed under Mission Trips, third bullet down. I scanned the QR code, expecting the trip to be full. But somehow, there was exactly one seat left.

Without hesitating, I booked it and paid the deposit.

I said yes—not expecting it to change my life.

But it did.
Everything did.

When the Burden Becomes a Calling

The foggy hills, the ancient stones, the aching hearts. Scotland got under my skin in the most sacred way. It wasn’t just a place—it was a call.

And when I came back home, I couldn’t leave it behind.

But saying yes didn’t come without struggle.

I still remember sitting down with our Mission Director, Lacey Zawadski, and feeling completely out of my depth. As I looked at her and realized I’d be going on this mission with a group of incredibly mature, deeply seasoned Christians, I panicked.

I didn’t feel worthy.
I didn’t feel ready.
I didn’t even feel like I belonged.

The voice in my head whispered, "You should give your seat to someone more qualified. Someone who doesn’t feel so… unfinished."

I wrestled with intense imposter syndrome, convinced that surely God had meant to call someone else. I felt spiritually immature and utterly inadequate.

But that’s when God reminded me: He doesn’t call the qualified—He qualifies the called. I’ll never forget the day that reminder became real. I was at Los Primos, a local Mexican restaurant, celebrating the baptism of our close friend’s daughter after church. It was supposed to be a joyful day, but I was carrying the full weight of anxiety and doubt. I kept repeating over and over, “I need to back out. I’m not ready. I’m not the right person to go.”

What I didn’t realize was that our small group leaders, Mary Jane and Alex Cacho, were sitting just behind me. And as I spilled my fear—saying I wasn’t worthy, that I wouldn’t fit in, that everyone going on the mission was polished and put together—I made a comment that came straight from insecurity: “These are clean people… the kind who change their jewelry out regularly.”

If you know me, you know I’ve worn the same jewelry for 15 years. That moment said more about my own feelings of inadequacy than anyone else. When Mary Jane and Alex stood up to leave, I was hit with a wave of guilt and shame for mocking the very people who had answered the same call I was wrestling with.

I met them at the door, overwhelmed and tearful, and confessed everything—my fear, my imposter syndrome, the way this decision was weighing down my spirit.

They didn’t scold me. They didn’t dismiss me. They prayed over me, right there at the door, reminding me of something I so desperately needed to hear:

God doesn’t call people He doesn’t need.

That moment changed everything. It didn’t erase the fear overnight, but it anchored me in truth. I didn’t have to be polished or perfect. I just had to be willing.

We Prayed. We Waited. Then We Moved.

This wasn’t just my journey—it became our family’s journey. Calen and I prayed. We sought wise counsel. We involved our kids in the conversations. And over time, what started as a gentle nudge became a clear, resounding YES.

God confirmed that yes in ways we never could have orchestrated ourselves.

Our kids’ passports came in in less than two weeks—from start to finish—something we were told was nearly impossible in this season. We found a loving, God-fearing couple to care for our home while we’re gone, and generous members of our community stepped forward to love on our pets like their own.

And then—just a few months after I returned from my trip—Calen was offered a spot on his own mission trip to Scotland.

God was moving. Not just in me, but in all of us.

🕊️ We’re not going because we have all the answers—we’re going because we trust the One who does.

We’re going to serve.
We’re going to support the church.
We’re going to live the Gospel out loud—together.

Why Scotland? Why Us?

Because every nation matters.
Because the church is alive there, and we’re called to walk beside it.
Because God breaks our hearts on purpose—for people, for places, and for His glory.

Walk With Us

We’d love for you to be part of this journey—through your prayers, your encouragement, or just by reading along as we share life, faith, and service abroad.

This blog will be our space to process, praise, and remember all that God is doing. The good days and the stretching ones. The sacred and the simple.

With Love & Expectation,

Candice
—Wife, mom, veteran, and now: missionary-in-motion.