Three years ago today, My parents and myself passed the sign that said, "Welcome to Pennsylvania". Loaded with two cars with my parents, everything I could squeezed inside. My heart was just as full—fear, anxiety, anticipation, and a hope that somehow this move to Pennsylvania would be worth it. It was a huge step, and deep down I knew there was no turning back. This was not like when I moved to College or went to a trip. This was serious adulting behavior. The VA was waiting. The drive was complete. And my church family was eagerly waiting to welcome me home.
But here’s the truth—I never would’ve had the courage to even take this leap if God hadn’t started preparing me years before. Growing up, I was painfully shy, anti-social, and so wrapped up in anxiety that even small things felt overwhelming. I clung to my comfort zone, terrified of change. Even one change in my routine would throw me off for months. Homesickness would crush me anytime I tried to step out. Just ask any of my past camp counselors and they will tell you the stories, I could have been the poster child for homesick campers. If you had told that younger version of me that one day I’d be living here, leading groups, speaking to others, and calling this place home—I would’ve laughed through my tears and said, “Not me. I could never do that.”. I would have never believed that I would be on my own, in a new state, away from everything I knew. But...
God.
As a teenager, He gave me the courage to do something unthinkable for me at the time—go to World Burn. I was scared, awkward, and out of my element, but He met me there. It was at World Burn that I met people from here, people who would become part of the story He was writing for me. Little did I know, He was already loosening the grip of homesickness, teaching me to push through the fear, and planting seeds of courage that would one day carry me into a new life. He was healing my heart before I even asked or knew what He was doing.
The very next day after arriving here, my parents experienced Lifeway for the first time. My people embraced me with open arms and open hearts. I still remember many of them telling me "Welcome Home". Today, sitting in church, I felt that same rush of belonging—it’s the kind of love that reminds me I am not just welcomed here, I am truly part of a family. Other than my actual family, this was so hard to find as a kid and I always felt like the outsider. Until here. They embraced this awkward newcomer as if I was meant to be there, as if the seat always had my name on it.
The last three years have been anything but easy. I’ve buried three people who were deeply important to me, along with other family members. I have faced the grieving process alone away from my family. I’ve gone through two broken arms, surgery, illness, had my car stolen, endured a kitchen fire, watched friendships fracture, barely made payments on bills, penny pinched, and stumbled through more struggles than I can count. There were days the weight nearly broke me. Days where I would lay in bed and cry from the overwhelming grief or pain or sorrow. Days where anxiety gripped so hard I had to leave the house just to not panic more.
And yet—God.
He wove beauty into the brokenness. He filled my life with adventures that reminded me I was still alive—exploring new cities, wandering antique shops, cheering at car shows, owning my own antiques, diving into projects, trying new foods and new experiences, laughing with friends who became lifelines. He brought people to make me food when I needed them, people to fix things that broke or take me to new things. He gave me opportunities to lead groups, invest in youth, help at dinners and events, share my story, and step into spaces I never thought I’d be brave enough to stand in.
It’s been messy. It’s been breathtaking. It’s been heartbreak and healing side by side. But when I look back, I don’t just see the struggles or even the joys—I see God’s fingerprints all over my story. From that anxious, homesick, anti-social teenager who could barely make eye contact, to the woman sitting here today who dares to lead, speak, and live fully—He has been shaping every single chapter.
Three years in, and I know this for sure: He brought me here. He carried me through. And He’s still not done. There is so much more left to do and I trust He is just getting started.
Thank you to everyone who has walked with me these three years. To my family to encourage me to pursue more. To my friends who have become my family this far away from everyone else. To my friends back in the Midwest for keeping my Midwestern roots strong. To those who have made it harder for growing me. To those who habe doubted me for helping me fight more. To everyone who is apart of thos journey. Thank you.
