Terrifying.
Dramatic.
Traumatic, even.
"What if I make the WRONG choice?"
"Maybe my plans will mess everything up..."
"This decision could change the ENTIRE COURSE OF MY LIFE."
"How can I be trusted with this amendment of EPIC proportions?"
Senior year was no exception.
Colleges.
Road trips.
Transcripts.
Applications.
Essays.
Financial Aid.
Scholarships.
Moving. Away. From. Home.
AGAIN.
Finally I landed on Oral Roberts University after painful, tear-filled grappling with my own inner voice of confusion.
In August of 1996, we packed up a 15-passenger van filled with boxes and things-that-make-a-dorm-life-liveable and travelled the 1,300 miles across the country from East Coast, USA to Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Somewhere around Ohio, I felt panic set in.
"Mom, how do we know this is the right decision? What if this is the wrong one? How are we going to pay for this? I didn't get that BIG scholarship we were counting on! I do not know if I should....if I CAN do this."
And my ever-practical mom, with infinite wisdom and experience at handling her dramatic, artistically, temperamental daughter AND having already kindly and mercifully fielded MANY such panic attacks ALL SUMMER LONG, said, "Well .... you are going for one semester now at least. We are halfway there."
And with that, I moved on to Claudius 6.
On the day the elevator broke.
Or at least was slower than the building of the Ark.
After my mom had sprained her ankle less than 24 hours before.
Dad, Sis, and I unpacked the entire 15-passenger van and hand-carried every bit of my belongings up six flights of stairs while my mom unpacked and began to make my room homey.
Oh, I remember those nerves, climbing the stairs, feeling every bit of the missionary kid that I WAS, running into to other students and parents in the hallways, awkwardly making connections, hoping I was not the only one who felt so ridiculous and stupid and embarrassed.
"God, what am I doing here? I do not belong here. I will never fit in. I am just a little missionary girl. People will never 'get' me. I will stand out like a sore thumb. FOUR YEARS?!? There is just NO way. I don't even know if I can do ONE semester."
And then I met her.
Doing her job in the succinct, precise way that I would come to know... and love.
My RA.
Bloodine.
The ONLY Haitian resident advisor on the entire campus.
Yes.That's right.
Did you catch that?
THE.
ENTIRE.
CAMPUS.
Crazy, right?
I mean...what?!?!
And suddenly, I knew.
She was my fleece.
My gift.
My olive branch.
My reminder from Jesus.
"I've got you, baby girl. This whole deal is NOT random. I have planned every detail."
She became a lifeline to me in that year.
Her background.
Her major.
Her direct way of telling me what I needed to hear.
Her patience in listening to my NEVER-ending inner sagas.
I do not know WHAT I was worried about.
"When you move to the right or the left,
you will hear a voice in your ear saying,
'This is the way...walk in it.'"
Isaiah 30:22
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