I knew things would be vastly different from that point on. I didn’t know how much at the time but I felt a shift, even if it was only slight. My whole life had been building up to that moment and it was over and the decision was made just like that. I didn’t know why or how it would happen; I only knew that God wanted this for me and he had placed the desire in my heart for a reason. I was moving to Alaska to go to school.
Every summer growing up my family would head for the mountains of Colorado for a week or two of vacation. We never went to the ocean; I was 19 before I ever saw the ocean; but the trip to the mountains was always one last hoorah before my sisters and I would head back to school. I loved the mountains: those mighty, majestic peaks rising out of the ground in the way that I thought Neptune might rise out of the ocean, confident and bold holding his trident yet mysterious and magic at the same time; the pungent smell of pine, that I could almost taste, permeating the crisp, clean air. They always seemed to call to me, never audibly, of course, but spiritually and emotionally I was drawn to them. It didn’t matter how many times we went, every time we would go I would pass the time trying to be patient, trying not to ask, “Are we there yet?” too many times. And then about 9 hours after our departure I would be on the lookout for the peaks in the distance: purple, and sometimes white too, blips in the sky that might look like clouds if you didn’t know any better, but I always did.
We would hike and play, rest, feed the chipmunks, watch the eagles on the tops of mountains, watch the hummingbirds outside the A-frame cabin, pick wildflowers, have bonfires, shop, explore, go down the Alpine slide over and over again, eat lavish foods, talk, laugh, cry, and hug and love there. It was family in all the ways we weren’t when we were at home. Dad was never as angry and Mom was never as sick while we were there. Looking back, maybe that’s why I loved it so much, because it brought a little slice of heaven into our family even if it was just temporary. I always felt safe and peace; they provided a refuge for me.
School would be starting soon with its halls scented with scotch tape, old books, and lead pencils and subtle undertones of angst thrown in. If I thought knowledge could smell like something, it would be scotch tape and books and lead pencils: rich with possibilities and imagination. I loved school but never seemed to excel at it except in reading. By third grade I was reading at the 11th and 12th grade reading levels. I liked learning and took comfort in this idea that for those 8 hours a day I wasn’t getting beaten by a belt or whipped with words that ripped apart my very identity, like I did at home. When I was at school I could be anything I wanted to be and not be scared that I might get ridiculed for choosing wrong. And for a while, at least, it challenged my dad’s convictions that I was stupid and worthless and dumb. Before long though, I began to believe that what he said was true: I must be stupid and worthless and dumb since I am doing so poorly. It never occurred to me that I was doing poorly because of what he told me and he told me those things because I was doing poorly. It was a cycle, one I couldn’t seem to break.
Time went on and I graduated from high school finally making the honor roll the last semester of my senior year. I worked mostly and took classes here and there over the next few years accumulating 27 credit hours between community college and the University of Kansas. Then I quit school altogether and focused on work thinking I could save up money to eventually go back once I figured out what it was God wanted me to do. I would start a job and love it and then after a year or so, I would get bored and quit, start a new job and love it and then after a year or so, I would get bored and quit. I was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with where I was and who I was becoming, or not becoming rather, and the way my life had worked out up to that point. I couldn’t help this feeling that there was something more out there for me. I was unfulfilled and hungry with desire for adventure that I denied because of fear of failure, my father’s rejection or disapproval, and in some ways my own fear of succeeding. I told myself “Once I get married I will move away to Colorado” and then “Once I get financially secure I will move away.” The ideas progressed into all-out unhappiness. Depression. Countless sleepless nights. Sporadic forays into superficial happiness permeated throughout with unhealthy relationships. Last summer while reading Seizing Your Divine Moment and Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Heart, something within me was stirred. Adventure was calling me and I could hear it loud and clear. I was suddenly aware that my life had become a downward spiral into a search for meaning and value that I knew I could only get in one place: immersing myself in an authentic environment where I could dive into God and submerge myself in his love and grace for me. I needed to learn, to study, to exercise my spirit and indulge my mind. I wanted a clean slate, a new start, to be where nobody knew my name or the history that came with it.
At that time I had been meeting regularly with a small group of girls that provided me with some honest feedback, some of it friendly and some of it not so much, but all of it needed. One Sunday afternoon last August we were gathered together and one of them said, “You really need to be actively pursuing this dream of yours to live in Colorado. What’s keeping you here? Nothing! So why are you still here?” I knew she was right and that it was out of love but I was offended. I went home and thought about what she said. I went to bed that night and, yet again, laid there wide awake wrestling with God and myself. And then at 2:15am, out of nowhere, I remembered going to Alaska to visit my dad a few years ago on this little college campus that barely had 20 students and no money at the time. I remembered the scenery taking my breath away. Alaska Christian College. Alaska Christian College. The thought wouldn’t leave me so I rose from my bed and went to the computer and half-heartedly pulled up their website thinking it was just a silly pipedream.
I thought about the idea of making Alaska my home. I knew I had loved Alaska while I was there, it was so beautiful – more so than Colorado – but so far away. The more I thought about it and prayed about it, the more at peace I was with the idea. I went to bed and slept soundly through the night for the first time in a long time. I woke the next morning feeling hope and promise that something might be waiting for me. I went to work and logged into the website again and sent a quick “request for information” on the electronic form explaining that I was the daughter of one of their staff members from a few years back, that I was interested in information about the school, any scholarships I could receive, etc… I had little hope of anything happening since it was already mid-August and school would be starting soon. Maybe Spring semester but more than likely it would be next Fall. Leaving so soon would be irresponsible and reckless. I didn’t have money. I didn’t have a job. How would I pay for school? What would I do for transportation? But it became obvious that God had a very different plan for me. By the end of the day I had received an email back from the admissions director at the school saying that he remembered my dad and that there was still space available and if I applied right away I could have my room and board covered with scholarships. I started crying there at my desk on the 5th floor of the office building in the pretentious part of downtown where I should have been earning my $40k/year by updating the database and making travel arrangements. Instead I sat there with a box of Kleenex in my hands and prayers of thanksgiving in my heart. They were tears of joy.
I emailed my friends, including the girls in the small group, and called my family telling them what had transpired overnight and of the adventure that could be waiting for me. I filled out the paperwork and faxed it back first thing the next morning. By Tuesday night I had received a phone call welcoming me to Alaska Christian College and that I had to be there in a week and 2 days. I called my family and told them first and it meant so much that they were all very supportive of me. Then I headed out to celebrate with friends. Change was underway; I already felt transformed somehow. We all shed some tears but mostly we laughed and reminisced about the memories we had made together over the last 13 years. Arrangements were made for going-away parties that Saturday night with friends and Sunday afternoon with family. I am still surprised at how calm I was, how much I felt at peace with the whole thing. It was almost like I was performing in a play about someone else’s life but yet I was conscious that this was happening to me, that this was my life. It was strange.
The next morning I had to tell my boss. I was nervous about it at first, like you might be nervous if you were afraid of telling your parents that you suddenly met someone, were getting married and moving to Africa or something. But I prayed and asked God to direct me and to open my boss’s heart. I went in to his office and told him I needed to talk to him and shut the door. He looked at me worriedly and said, “Okay, have a seat.” I sat and told him all about what had happened over the few days immediately prior to that and that I was leaving in a little over a week for Alaska and that I needed to give him only 2 days notice as opposed to the corporately preferred 2 weeks. He smiled as he looked at me and said, “You know, this reminds me of the time that God told Abram to leave Ur in Genesis.” My jaw dropped to the floor in shock. We had never really discussed Christianity or our individual beliefs during my tenure there but in the back of my mind I had somewhat of an inkling that he might be Christian. Then he told me that it’s obviously God’s call on my life to go to Alaska and that I certainly can’t ignore that. He was genuinely excited for me. Then he floored me again by working it out so that I got my 10 days of vacation and that I could get my check early in order to make preparations for the move. His support and encouragement was just another affirmation that this was from God.
The next week was a fury of chaos and making arrangements and packing. I had to be sure to see all the friends I needed to see, the ones that couldn’t make it to any of the going-away parties and the ones that have meant the most to me. But I pulled it off only with God’s strength and determination and help.
Thursday, August 26th my best friend took me to the airport and sat with me the 2 hours while I waited to board the plane. She cried and I told her how I excited I was and how at peace I was with the whole thing. I assured her that I knew God was in this and that it was something I had needed for so long – an adventure involving the mind, body, and heart. The announcement was made that they would start boarding for my flight. We embraced and 14 years of memories and love came rushing over me. I broke down; not because I was scared of going to Alaska, but because I was scared of leaving her behind. She had been a constant in a world of change and pain, she had been a rock for me. I told her how much I loved her and valued her friendship and that nothing, not even 4000 miles of distance between us, could change that. And I boarded the plane.
That night or the next morning rather, at about 12:35am, we were making our final descent into Anchorage. My heart smiled and my face reflected that with upturned lips, pearly whites, and hope. I was starting the rest of my life and I knew that this beautiful state, that three years ago I had spent a week in, would soon feel like home for me. I could see the Cook Inlet off to the West and the midnight city lights to the East. Then I saw the soft silhouette of the mountains off in the distance. Yes, it already did feel like home.
Now, more than a year and a half later, as I sit staring out the window at the heavy blanket of snow, I think about each individual snowflake that it took to create such a beautiful scene. And I think about the God who, with a breath brought the seasons into existence and told the snowflakes to fall here one upon the other, each adding to the beauty of the last in retrospect. And now I am thinking Isn’t that a lot like life? All the moments of the past, each uniquely breathtaking in their individual ways, add up to one amazing, resplendent picture of God’s awesome design and his love for me and the many ways he has blessed me since I have been here. Every moment of my past has been preparing me, leading me, drawing me closer to this present. Hosea 2:6-7 says, “Therefore I will block her path with thorn bushes; I will wall her in so that she cannot find her way. She will chase after her lovers but not catch them; she will look for them but not find them. Then she will say, ‘I will go back to my husband as at first, for then I was better off than now.’”
My days of being walled in are over, as are the days of being blocked by thorn bushes of fear and self-doubt. I had tried to find love and value in all the wrong things and therefore, had not found it. Until now. I have returned to my husband as at first. And as in Hosea 2:14, he has allured to me and has led me into the desert where he speaks tenderly and softly to my heart. In a recent phone conversation with my dad, with whom I have experienced a great deal of healing, he said, “Since you’ve been in Alaska you have become more yourself than you have ever been in your life. Your heart is alive and you are radiant.” Yes, it was reckless but then isn’t there something dangerously attractive about being reckless for God? After all, isn’t he a little dangerous himself? I have learned to become recklessly His. Yes. Things are indeed different now and I would not have it any other way.
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