The Beginning

Here I am sitting in the West Bromwich YMCA in England. Trying to figure out how I got here, why I am here, and how am I going to survive over the next year.

When I first found out that I was being sent to England it was a dream come true. I had always had a huge fascination with the country, culture, and of course the royal family. Not only that I figured I had it easy compared to my other friends who were heading to the Philippines, Kenya, and Guatemala, not to mention all the other volunteers being sent all over the world. I mean in England they spoke the same language, were considered a western culture, how hard could it be. :-) Well, I guess I am getting a bit ahead of myself. I should start from the beginning.

About a year ago, I realized that even though life seemed to be right on target for me, I still had this very unsettling feeling, that something just wasn't right in my life. I was working field, I had started grad school at an amazing school, and I was living on my own in a big city with three amazing roommates, but things just didn't feel right. I was unhappy, and I just felt like I could do more. I had begun thinking about ways I could reach people, communicate, serve, and also gain a better understanding of myself and what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. And this is when I remembered the Young Adult Volunteer Program through PCUSA. So, I applied to be a YAV, after lots of paper work, and several phone conversations I found out that I was accepted as a Young Adult Volunteer, and since I wanted to do international service, I would be expected to attend a discernment event in Louisville, Kentucky. During this whole process things just felt right, I knew I was finally on the right track. I was meant to do this year of service. So, off to Louisville I went. I never expected the discernment process to be so difficult and emotional, but at the same time it was completely worth it. When I finally found out after three days that I was heading to the United Kingdom, and this not only felt right in my heart, but it was supported by the PCUSA community. Now all I had to do was prepare for my journey.

So over the next few months I finished my job, moved home from Philadelphia (yes, back to my parents house in Wilmington, Delaware), spent as much time with my friends as possible and eventually I would begin the dreaded packing process. I also found out during this time that I would be heading to West Bromwich YMCA in the West Midlands(trust me this is nothing like the American "Y"), where I would work with all the different departments of the YMCA. This would include housing, child care, the community cafe(cafeteria), and the health center(gym). My supervisor seemed like he would be a lot of fun and I would be sharing a flat with another volunteer who was from Germany. Everything felt right, and I was ready to go or so I thought. Now all I had to do was get through orientation in Chicago, and enjoy my last week in the States.

Chicago was great, not so much for the hours and hours of session we had to endure, but for all the friendships I made and the community that was built. The incredible support I felt, that even though we would all be so far away from eachother, I had very close friends throughout the world who were going through a very similar experience as I was. And when I found out that I would be sharing a flight with the folks going to Kenya I thought "great, I wont have to say my final goodbyes until London". Needless to say it was a great flight. Looking out the airplane window as the wheels were about to touch English soil "I thought no worries, I can handle this". The minute the wheels touched I thought "oh my god, what have I gotten myself into". Walking through the terminal and coming to that point where I had to part ways with the folks going to Kenya, it finally hit me. I was leaving everything and everyone I knew behind to live in a "simple life" in a country unkown.