A short little piece of insight into my mind on a crazy 55 hour travel day, written in an airport in Paris, France.

Being here makes me think of the last time I was in Paris. It makes me think of the emotions I was feeling and the thoughts that were floating throughout my mind, and all of the things the Lord hadn’t yet taught me. I’ve merely stepped into the airport here, never outside the walls, but something about being in the exact same spots for similar amounts of time and seeing all the same art pieces and little Parisian coffee shops. It’s so sweet and yet it hurts. It hurts thinking about who I was, and the fact that I had had no idea. I had no idea what I would have to let go of in Romania. I had no idea how my heart would break and my pride would be crushed over and over. And yet it’s sweet to see who I have become with the Father. More truly than ever, walking as a daughter of the Highest King. Surrendering it all to Him. It’s a true privilege to look back at all of the places my feet have been and at the many many worship sessions and ministry days my squad and I have had, some alone, some with Romanians. And the pictures. Man oh man have I taken so so many pictures. Thankful for the small moments that now only live in my memory, journals, and voice memos.