My trust room.

I remember my first day in that room. I remember holding back an ocean of tears until I got into that room to fall asleep. I cried as quietly as I could because I didn't want anyone to hear me and try to console me. I remember asking myself "What on earth did I just do". I remember being so homesick. I remember experiencing loneliness and a feeling of isolation like I'd never experienced before. I remember it taking just a week or so to fall in love with Spain and the family that I lived with.

I remember playing soccer outside with the locals, and seeing all of the young boys drop their jaws when they saw that I was just as good as them and schooled them just as much as they schooled me. Girls don't really play soccer in Spain. A couple of their faces I will never forget.

 I remember shaking in my bed with fear in that very room while I was asking God for guidance on if I should travel to Northern Africa during the Arab Uprising. I remember Him telling me yes and me being scared to death. I remember writing in my journal all of the bad things which I knew could happen to me as if it would prepare me from any of it, and I remember God telling me, "I will never leave you or forsake you. Be courageous and go." I am still experiencing how that room brought a change in me.

It was a room in which I learned how to trust. To trust a man who came down to earth and laid his life down for me. To trust a God who is mighty, and steadfast, and holy. To trust a love that continues to bring a change in me. I know God is for me. I know that nothing can stand in my way when His hand is guiding me and I know from experience and specific examples that He never leaves us nor forsakes us.

It is weird to think that for two and a half months I slept in that room, and was changed for the better because of how much I lived by faith and not by sight. I miss Spain. I hope that someday I will be able to go back.