On October 2, 2014 I left on a journey across the United States. On April 13, 2015 I came home.
I slept on more couches than I can count and never knew where my next meal would come from. I submitted myself to the unknown of each day where the only mode of survival is to breathe trust like oxygen.
I saw more than a book can describe and I heard more than I could retain to relay.
I left to write a book. But all the while, God was writing me.
Nothing could have prepared me for the uncomfortable etching of His pen stroke into the smooth fibers of my clean, white papered life.