On May 29th, I nervously parallel parked on a crowded street in front of the apartment I would be living in the rest of the summer. For someone who avoids parallel parking as much as humanly possible, this internship was already off to a rocky start. I still didn’t really know what I had gotten myself into.
The neighborhood was nothing like I expected. The houses were jammed right on top of each other. Cars were parked on both sides of the street. There was trash lying around. It was nothing like the white picket fence suburbia with big backyards that I grew up in. I might as well have been in another country, instead of only 2 ½ hours north of my home in Nashville.
But there was no going back. I was committed to this, for better or for worse. So, I took a deep breath and walked up the stairs into the apartment I was supposed to call home for the summer.
Fast forward to August 11. I walked down the stairs of that same apartment, now affectionately known as “Camp Jackson,” one last time with my car keys in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. My heart broke as I said a final goodbye to my remaining friends at Camp Jackson.
I slammed my car door shut and turned the music up. I waved goodbye one last time. Two seconds after I pulled away from the curb, the tears fell. And they kept falling. I wanted so badly to turn the car around and go back. I didn’t know how to leave. I didn’t know how to say goodbye.
But I kept going forward.
I forced myself to keep moving forward, even though I left a huge chunk of my heart back in Louisville. I couldn’t have imagined loving Louisville and the people I met there as much as I did. And I tried not to. Even before I left, I told myself I wasn’t going to like Louisville. I thought the program would be good and that it would be awesome not to sit around at home for another summer, but I was adamant that I wouldn’t get that attached.
I was so wrong.
Nothing about this summer was easy. It was physically, mentally, and emotionally draining. I had no privacy and no money. I sacrificed just about everything that made me feel comfortable.
I wouldn’t change a second of it.
For everything I gave up this summer, I received something even better. I made friendships that will last a lifetime. I learned about writing and editing; I even got to put together a book proposal! I got to pour myself into a neighborhood that is desperate to be shown Christ’s love. I could go on and on.
I found comfort in being uncomfortable. Being vulnerable quit being this big, scary thing. Instead, it became a source of strength. I learned how to trust my friends with my weaknesses and with my struggles. It gave me the freedom to quit pretending that I had it all together, and that gave me the freedom to truly live and a safe place to grow.
I’ve tried so hard to find the words to describe what this summer meant to me and all the things I learned. Even if I wrote a book, I’m not sure I could fully explain all the ways God worked in my life. But I’m starting to wonder if I even need to.
I got a glimpse of what could be. Louisville changed me, but now it’s my turn to choose to keep those changes. Even being back home for a few days has shown me how hard it will be not to go back to the way I was. It’s up to me to choose to keep growing and allow God to complete the work He started this summer.
Nothing about it is going to be easy, but God never promised easy or comfortable. He just promised He would be there every step of the way. That’s what makes it worth it.
Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV)
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.