A new adventure awaits!

When I was little, I dreamed of Africa.  Today, I live in Madagascar, on a giant, white, floating hospital ship.  Somewhere between those two sentences hides the real story...the hard story..the really, really good story.

If you had met me four years ago, you would have met a very different person: orange hair; 13 piercings; a tired, suspicious, slightly empty look in my eyes.  I looked like I hadn't had a good night's sleep in years...because I hadn't.  See, what a lot of you don't know is that I used to have PTSD.  To be honest, I don't really know how to explain this well, if you didn't know me then.  I wish I could have others explain it to you, like:

• the roommate who was awoken multiple times every night by my nightmares.
• the high school students who would hug me at youth group, startled by feeling me fly out of my skin because I didn't see them coming.
• the close friend I punched in the stomach before I even realized what I'd done, because he encroached too much on my bubble.
• the housemates who found the empty bottles of liquor all over, week after week.
• the pastor who sat across from me in his office, graciously and lovingly responding to my confession of the latest 10-day binge.

This was my life - day in and day out, night after sleepless night.  I knew Jesus, and I was doing my best to follow Him...but I had this enormous weight tied around my neck, and it seemed like it just kept pulling me deeper and deeper beneath the surface.  I felt like every single day was a fight, from start to finish...and I was beyond weary.  

As a last-ditch effort, I met with a friend of a friend; I had no idea at the time how those three short meetings over as many days would change the entire course of my life.  Not only did God meet me in a powerful way during those days, but He completely removed the PTSD, opening the doors to a life of freedom, peace and joy I literally could never have imagined before.  Soon after those crazy, amazing three days, I learned that my full name means "Resurrection of the Broken"; since then, I have felt strongly that it is not only a beautiful picture of my own life, but a calling on the life I have been given.  I came to Africa sensing that this would be a time of equipping for me, and praying that I would leave knowing what the next step would be.  During my time here, I have learned lessons which I will carry with me forever; lessons that have shaped who I am, how I see the world, and how I interact with and perceive others.  Most importantly, I have become even more convinced that those three days really were just the beginning of something quite wonderful.  

So what is next?  I will be leaving the ship in August, and am looking forward to heading home and going back to school.  The ultimate goal is to become a Physician Assistant, doing a fellowship in Psychiatry, and working with the Post-Traumatic Stress population, as I know the desperation of constantly feeling like you're being hijacked by your own brain...the strength and courage it takes to get through each and every day...the fear that comes with daring to believe that one day, life might look just a little bit easier.  I have a deep respect for the patients we treat here on the ship - some of them walk for days or weeks, not knowing if there is anything we can do to help them...but they're brave enough to hope, and tenacious enough to make the journey.  People with PTSD are on a very similar journey...you just can't always see it.  There are no large, disfiguring tumors slowly taking over their faces and lives...but they're struggling to breathe nonetheless.  They may be able to work and go out in public, but they're often shunned and ostracized in other ways.  I am so grateful for all the lessons Africa and her people have taught me...and I hope I never forget them.