I'm a woman whose found Grace with a thirst for adventure. Jesus has been my Homeboy since I can remember, however, it's been about eight years since He made his way to the center of my life. Growing up was bumpy, crazy, exciting, terrifying, tragic, and beautiful. His hand never left mine despite some dark times where I couldn't see Him. He's broken me down and is building me up whole and has given me a community of people who challenge me to grow every day.
I put myself through college and graduated in December of 2011- a victory of epic proportions. It was a difficult year leading up to graduation: my best friend and the kid closest to my heart (who was five at the time) was diagnosed with a brain tumor and suffered a stroke (a situation in which God has been redeeming ten-fold and using this kid's story to share His own), my grandfather passed away, and I experienced a severe fracture in relationship with my father. In that year, I was pressed and stressed to a point where all the walls and hardness that I had built from childhood to protect myself from engaging in life broke. It was hard. And it was painful. But God was there and faithful to answer my prayer. I learned that brokenness is not a bad place to be in Him. Since then, He has been building me up with a new foundation that begins with Christ. It's pretty sweet.
After graduating, I went on a two-month backpacking trip through Europe, one month going solo. It was a dream I had been planning on and saving for since I was 18 years old. When I got back, I got my first "real grown-up job" that I am currently at now. I always figured I'd end up a missionary in some capacity (my grandparents were missionaries for 8 years in Kenya and 4 in Costa Rica) because my life story has made me fairly mobile, I love to discover new people and cultures that God created, and I love to to talk about what God has done. But I figured the missionary thing would be way down the line after I've established myself as a successful human and maybe had a couple of kids in college or something. Then the World Race kept popping up on my radar through several different sources. I kept swatting it away like a fly (although it of course appeals to the adventure-ist and Jesus-ist in me) because the time thing seemed off. 11 months is a long time to be away from my people. The people that took me so long to let my heart connect to. The people that have changed my life. Then it kept coming around again. And again. After much prayer, I looked into it. And it stayed for a while. Then it grew. Once I made steps toward the journey- it clicked. There is so much peace about it, that it's almost weird. Yes, I am nervous about being away for so long that kids will grow and people will have lived another year of life while I am gone. Yes, fundraising makes my stomach turn. But there's peace. And so I will go. In God, I'll go. And I expect it to be a great adventure with the Great Adventurer.
