Where did it all begin?

Someone asked me the other day why I have such a passion for traveling, Africa, and modern slavery. It was a reasonable question... I mean, I grew up in the same state, same county, same small town, even the same house. Most of my family hasn't even left the country except for a few Caribbean ports from a cruise ship. I was homeschooled, only exposed to a limited cross-section of people on a daily basis. Pretty sheltered. My parents are really into politics... I didn't grow up around much poverty or even awareness of slavery or human trafficking. It's a good question. How in the world did I end up here?

Today I was browsing wikipedia, thinking about how interesting this paper I am writing on African dictators is going to be. It's a great opportunity to wrap my head around the political progression of the continent after colonialism... and then I thought, why the heck do I care!?

When I was asked that first question I gave a patched-up response... maybe it was the fact that I grew up in a church that focused on world missions and constantly exposed me to the work of people around the world and the needs they were trying to meet. Maybe it was the fact that my Aunt and Uncle moved to Kenya when I was about 10 to plant a church. My grandparents decided to go visit them and I begged to tag along. So at 11, my first time on a plane (much less my first time out of the country) was to Africa. Maybe it was the fact that most of the kids I grew up with went on missions trips, mostly with this crazy organization called Teen Missions International which sent you abroad for more than a month in the summer. Not about to be left behind, I went the first year I was of a reasonable age. So... before I turned 15 I had been to 3 continents.

It wasn't until years later that I would mentally solidify my interests and decide to pursue them professionally, but I had caught the bug. People look at you differently... when a 15 year old can tell stories of her train journeys across Scandinavia and straddling the equator in Kenya, they earn a new level of respect in people's eyes. I had already seen more than the rest of my family combined and I loved every minute of it. Part of it was pride, part of me decided to attach these things I had done to my identity. I mean, what teenager isn't searching for somewhere to belong, something to belong to?

But I discovered something else, I was willing to make great sacrifices to travel. I was willing to give up a lot to take another journey and have another experience. The exposure is what led to my direction. It's not like I woke up one day and decided to care about world hunger... seeing people in need, REALLY in need... changes you. I just reached a point where everything else seemed kind of meaningless. Every other endeavor, every other career path I could imagine that did not include helping those people I had seen suffering, seemed ridiculous and miserable.

Anyway, I embraced it. Started taking every trip I could and my life goals started to revolve around these experiences and desires. Next thing you know, I am in grad school in DC studying world peace (well, something like that).

I am still not sure how it all happened. I wake up some mornings in shock, wondering how I got here. But, I love what I do. I even love what I study (heh... I just don't care for tests and papers).

I may not be able to point to a logical reason why I have this passion, but I have no doubt that it was strategically placed in me, and I am not complaining.