As a child, my life, like most other children’s lives, was dictated by my parents. Where I would go to school, whose house I would go to play (my parents had a loose screening process), and so on. Under normal circumstances, such micromanagement was met with minimal resistance, at most. My parents were (are still) fair individuals, and life was generally good.

This was all well and good, until the end of my time in Jr. High. Suddenly, my life and how I wanted to live it, was drastically, and quite obviously, out of my hands. Uprooted to a mysterious country, I spent four years trying to start over. My big break came on the fifth year. I would be thousands of miles away from my parents and able to make my own decisions.

And here, my journey began. Now, after another four years, I’ve come to realize that my decisions have never been mine to make. In stunning retrospect, I have finally begun to see God’s “big” plan and his guidance over my life. The places I could’ve ended up, the other people I could’ve met, all in due time, but I know for sure, that Freshmen year I thought I was making my own decisions, God was moving me in His direction all along.