So I'm doing this post and the last post very backwards.
I told you I would blog about my fist trip to New York. I did. I haven't posted it yet, but I did.
But things aren't quite nailed down yet, so I can't exactly publish who offered me a contract when I'm not even signed yet.
So I'm just going to tell you that I'm moving.
Let me take you back to the moment that first sunk in. It hit me like a load of bricks (probably the load of bricks from our mailbox someone [not me] happened to...kill.)
Shock. Ecstasy. Fear. Thanking the Lord. Laughing. Screaming. Crying. Excitement. And wonder that the Lord could pull this all together and make my small dream into a reality without me lifting a finger. I'm amazed at all the doors He's opened when I surrendered my career to Him.
Anyway. You're probably reading this in slightly dazed realizing that a seventeen year old is trusting God in faith to move away from her family and everyone she knows, all for a calling.
You and me both.
I'm moving to New York City!
There are so many things I don't know. Especially the time frame. I'm there until they send me back. It could be two months, or it could be two weeks, I am clueless.
All I know is that it's not about me, it's about how God uses me.
This isn't for me being able to strut down the Prada show, I'm just a missionary in designer clothes, high heels, and a heart for Jesus.
Keeping that in mind, I'm walking in faith, holding my Jesus' hand as tight as I can, and looking up into His shining face.
Let's do this.