When I was a little girl, I never wanted to wander far from home. The furthest I would go is down the road to play with the neighbor boy, or ride bikes on “the black road” – the rarely traversed street that paralleled our house a whole 25 yards from the front door. I refused to attend camp as the thought of being away from home overnight would nearly choke out my life’s breath.

One year, though, I finally mustered up the courage to go. Camp Carl. I can credit that courage to the coaxing presence of a friend. I thought, “Ok…if I can do this at all, it is with a friend.” So away we went.

The first evening I remember lining up on teams to play Red Rover…the infamous game now ban from all PE departments and youth nights.

Red Rover, Red Rover, let Becca come over…” It was finally my turn. Fear had the best of me long before my name was chanted.

I can do this,” I must have thought to myself. My eyes scanning the line up looking for the ‘weak’ link. I put confidence in my super speedy racing shoes and off I went; eyes up, heart racing, determination strong. Charging full steam ahead, not seeing the fate that lie ahead of me, I went flying over the linked arms, landing squarely on my back, sprawled out and gasping for air. I had just succeeded in knocking the wind out of my chest. With every gasp, my heart was screaming “Go home NOW!

So home I went. They called my parents and I was homeward bound within hours. Camp was everything I ever thought it could be… a bust. Failure. Disappointing. Overwhelming.

I was driving down the road last weekend and this memory flashed before my eyes. My eyes then leaked with the sting of the emotion in the memory. Disappointment. Hurt. Sigh.

Fast forward to 2015. I am yet again, on my back, gasping for air after charging full speed ahead in the transitions of life and hitting those linked arms. I heard my name being called and I blazed forward…speed racers laced up and the homemade Nike swoosh on my Kmart knock off shoes fully fitted. (Yes, when we couldn’t afford the real deal, I made my own with sharpie in hand).

You see, I left Asheville one year ago on February 6, 2o14. Yes, I was born and raised in NE Ohio, but I “grew up” in Asheville, NC. I call it home. Eighteen years in Ohio; eighteen years in North Carolina. I’m as equally southern as I am equally northern. (I know the southerners and northerners may equally be a bit squeamish at that comment, but nonetheless its true).

For a girl who didn’t like to wander far from home as a little girl, I have meandered quite far.  All the way to Montana. And not just any part of Montana…5 miles from the Canadian border, Montana.

Amidst the gasps for air, the truth is that I was actually created to move away from home. My first indication of that truth is the fear that I had as a child that bound me up to the point of never wanting to do so.

Adventure is in my DNA. I know that because adventure is what fear kept me from as a child. I didn’t want to try new things or embrace any kind of adventure as a child. I was too afraid. Again, the fear indicates what I was actually designed by God to embrace adventure.

The enemy always overplays his hand to come against our God-given design. I was with God and known by Him long before I was ever seen by the enemy (Jeremiah 1:5; Psalm 119). God put in me all I was created to be, so the enemy, seeing those things from Him in me attempts to use fear to put the kibosh on the design of God in me…and you.

Even knowing this now, I fight the enemy of fear each day. However, I fight with hope, and even victory when I abide, and reach out for others to pray.

This year has been an exceedingly difficult year on so many levels. Sometimes I still gasp for air. Sometimes I want to go home. But I heard the call to go West…to leave home.  My little girl heart still says, “Ok…if I can do this at all, it is with a Friend.” So away we went.

I’m so thankful that I’m not alone.

And I am so thankful for technology…