I’m sitting in my room on the eve of my flight back to Atlanta just trying to figure out where time went. I feel like I just graduated and left Tennessee, but here I am 6 months later packing up for the World Race. It’s surreal.
It really did feel like one of those things that I signed up for but it wouldn’t actually ever pan out. It was a nice idea, but it felt like it was too good to be true, I guess.
But now it’s reality and it’s staring me right in the face.
I’m really excited.
But I’d be a big fat liar if I said I haven’t questioned this whole thing multiple times today.
I mean, I can’t even get my stupid pack packed correctly, how am I going to LIVE out of it for 11 months. I’ve gone back and forth with myself so many times today about how unprepared I am for this and how much easier it would be to stay home.
But why take the easy route? The other option is adventure, a chance to find yourself, a chance to change and see the world from a different perspective. I get to hold little babies and be the first person that tells them about Jesus! I am so lucky!
So I’m going to suck it up and choke out the hard goodbyes I don’t want to say. Because this is about to be the greatest freaking year of my life.
See ya later, ‘Murica. I’m going on an adventure. 
