It’s amazing how drastically
your life can change in such a short amount of time. One year. 365 days. That
pass like the blink of an eye.
Today marks the one year
anniversary of my move to Nashville. One year as a Nashvillain. (Yes, I know
it’s Nashvillian, but come on. Villain is so much cooler.) One year since the
day my mom and I climbed into my little Toyota filled with just about
everything I owned, and I watched my future unfold down the road ahead.
If you know me at all, you
know that I’m a planner. I had a set map in my head of how things were going to
play out once I got here. I was so sure of it. I saw it as clearly as day
before my eyes. So naturally none of those things has happened. In fact, my
life here looks absolutely nothing like I pictured. And the funniest part is
that those things I saw so clearly, wanted so badly, are all things I don’t
want anymore. But I guess that’s how life works.
One year. One year since my
mom stepped on a plane to Houston and left me here on my own. And I have never
felt so small. I think that’s how all great adventures start; feeling small. Seeing
a great big world stretched before you, full of possibility and danger, and
understanding in that moment that you are a speck on a marble swirling through
a galaxy of stars. But with that understanding comes a promise: the loving hand
of an infinite God holding it all in the palm of his hand. So with confidence,
and a whole lot of fear, you step out of your door. Onward and upward.
I’m ashamed to admit how long
it took before I stopped waking up every morning having to talk myself out of
running back to Houston. It was lonely. And terrifying. But I believe the Lord
leads you into the wilderness to prepare you for something great.
One day I woke up without
that weight on my shoulders.
And one day I knew that if I
went to visit my family in Texas that I would get on a plane and come back here.
It took almost eight months before that day. But it came.
And one day I sat on my
parents sofa and told them that I loved them but I was excited to go home. And
I meant here. Nashville, Tennessee. And in that moment something changed in me.
It felt like roots. And it felt like wings.
Because in the past 365 days
I have seen more proof that God answers prayers that I ever have before. More
proof of His faithfulness. His goodness. His love. As sure as the sun will
rise. (I’m listening to “As Sure as the Sun” by Ellie Holcomb as I type this.
If the past year of my life had a song, that would be it. Simple. And
beautiful.)
In moments of darkness, He
brought light. It moments of loneliness and desperation, he brought me the most
amazing friends anyone could ever ask for. Community. Family. For moments of
doubt, he gave me the Nashville skyline. To Noah, He gave the rainbow- a sign
of His promise to never flood the whole earth again. In the hard moments, the
dark moments, seeing that skyline is my rainbow- a reminder of His call on my
life; a peace that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I know this probably sounds
overly-dramatic. I guess that’s who I am as a person. But this is my stone. The
Lord has led me out of Egypt. Through the wilderness. Across the Jordan.
My life here looks nothing
like I thought it would. And praise the Lord for that. For this adventure. For
my own little fellowship. (When I typed that I meant like in the Lord of the
Rings- my band of brothers and sisters walking this road with me and supporting
me on my adventure. But then I realized that’s also the name of my church, and
I smiled. The Lord knows what He’s doing, y’all. And these little things are so
perfect. What a personal God we have.) I thank Him for the clarity He’s been
giving me in where I really want my life to go. What I really want. Who I
really want to be. And I thank Him for the uncertainty of my future, because in
that lies possibility. And in that lies faith.
One year. 365 days. Of fear.
Of heartache. Of peace. And joy. And friendship. And adventure. It’s been the
hardest year of my life-hands down. And the most rewarding. There’s something
so beautiful about hitting the reset button on your life and starting
completely over from scratch. In giving the Lord a blank page on which to
create something beautiful.
I’m sitting outside of the
Frothy Monkey typing this and sipping a soy turtle latte. I’m about to go meet
a couple friends at Mafiaoza’s for lunch. I’m breathing in the heartbeat of
this city, and I love it. The first time I set foot in Nashville it got into my
veins. It felt like electricity. It’s been two years since that day. And now?
Now it feels like home.
I pray I never lose that electricity.
Never lose the sense of magic in the air. That this ground beneath my feet was
made for me to walk on. That I was created for these streets. This city. These
people. This life.
April 5. It’s a day I pulled
out of thin air. I ran out of excuses not to go. So I sat down with my parents
in my kitchen and said I’ve got to do this. We pulled out a calendar and basically
pointed to a day a few weeks out. I texted my boss that night. “April 5.” And he
knew. I packed up my little world into a handful of boxes. April 5 changed my
life forever.
So today, 365 days later- this
is my line in the sand. The Lord has brought me this far. And the Lord will
lead me on. No looking back.
To those of you I left behind
to follow the call the Lord placed on my life, thank you. For your love and
support. For giving me a kick out the door. For believing in me. To those of
you who welcomed me here with open arms, thank you. For allowing me to be part
of your little family. I am so grateful.
If I could sum up the past year of my life in one word, that would be it- grateful. For all that's behind me and all that's in front of me. And I can't wait to see where this road leads me next. Onward and upward.
