Here I am, about to begin my 19th year on this planet, and I think it’s safe to say that at this point I’ve experienced, loved, and detested about 100 different versions of myself. Now, don’t be fooled, I am definitely nowhere near the absolution of “finding myself,” (though I don’t think that anyone ever truly is) but I’ve got to admit that I’m pretty darn proud of the woman that I have become. I’ve lived a privileged life since the moment my existence was just a mere possibility. From the time that I was being formed in my mother’s womb, up until this moment, and for the rest of eternity, I have been and always will be the daughter of two hard-working, unconditionally-loving parents who would do absolutely anything in order to ensure the
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I had failed to raise enough money in order to attend a Discipleship school in Norway which would allow me to grow deeper in my faith in God and serve as a missionary across the nations---A dream I had been holding in my heart for over a year, that I was so certain was my destiny. With the abrupt change of plans, I had to quickly enroll in community college, find a second job, and begin to figure out what in the world my purpose was apart from the plans I had made. Each week I worked up to 45 hours at two jobs and battled my way through 17 units at Foothill College, all the while feeling that my purpose had been stolen from me. I took classes that taught of Baroque Music and diatonic scale degrees, rather than Biblical Truth and knowledge of the Lord. I served coffee in a Starbucks rather than the needy in a third world country. The road I was on felt miniscule compared to what it should have been. I doubted the faithfulness of God for months, and as I continued to watch the dreams of my fellow graduates come true while mine laid in ashes, I doubted His existence
I had failed to raise enough money in order to attend a Discipleship school in Norway which would allow me to grow deeper in my faith in God and serve as a missionary across the nations---A dream I had been holding in my heart for over a year, that I was so certain was my destiny. With the abrupt change of plans, I had to quickly enroll in community college, find a second job, and begin to figure out what in the world my purpose was apart from the plans I had made. Each week I worked up to 45 hours at two jobs and battled my way through 17 units at Foothill College, all the while feeling that my purpose had been stolen from me. I took classes that taught of Baroque Music and diatonic scale degrees, rather than Biblical Truth and knowledge of the Lord. I served coffee in a Starbucks rather than the needy in a third world country. The road I was on felt miniscule compared to what it should have been. I doubted the faithfulness of God for months, and as I continued to watch the dreams of my fellow graduates come true while mine laid in ashes, I doubted His existence