For as long as I can remember I have wanted to volunteer abroad. Africa, to be exact. Why I have always felt called there, I do not know. How I was ever going to get there, I did not know. I have learned though, to pay attention when I feel called to a place so strongly. As I inch closer and closer to graduation, I realized that this is my chance. With a nursing degree, I have the ability to help people in need in a way that not everyone can. So I made a decision: I am going to Africa. In February of 2017 I will be boarding a plane to Livingstone, Zambia for five weeks, working in a clinic alongside some amazing medical personnel, providing medical care for the surrounding villages. I am beyond ecstatic; my mind is blown because I got into this wonderful program. I cried when I received my letter. This is what I have always wanted.

Who do you tell when you get incredible news? I tell my mom everything. So I told her this. I did not get the response I hoped for. Instead, I got yelled at. At first, I was upset. I mean, how could she be so upset at this? She raised a daughter who is willing to travel the world to save others in need. What the hell is wrong with that? After a few heated arguments and a lot of persuasion, my mother finally realized that I was not going to change my mind about this. I wouldn’t say I have her full support, but I am alright with that. Here’s why:

My mother has supported me through every adventure I have embarked on since the day I was born. She has been there for the heart breaks, the wins, the losses, the standing ovation performances, and the oh-my-God-what’s-my-line ones. She has been there, literally, since the moment I started my life. Yet, here I go, endangering the life she created and poured her entire life into keeping safe. Moving half a world away from her, alone, surrounded by a place that she knows almost nothing about. The fear she has of letting me go to pursue this dream has launched this array of excuses for me to not go: “It’s too dangerous over there,” or “People need help here,” or “Why can’t you just go with the church?” By the way, my mother is not the only person who feels this way, so let me clear these things up really quick…

“It’s too dangerous over there.”

Yeah, it’s dangerous there. Very dangerous in Africa. But, I am going with a very reputable and safe company. I will have full protection, and I will never go anywhere alone. That doesn’t really matter though, because what does matter is that it’s unsafe HERE. Fifty people were killed two weeks ago at a nightclub. A child was taken by an alligator in what is arguably the safest place on earth in the presence of his parents. People walk around this country with their people-shooting hats on and stomp around killing people every single day. Sure, it’s dangerous in Africa. It’s dangerous here too, and if everyone was too afraid to help people in need, this world would be in complete turmoil.

“People need help here.”

You are so right about that. People need a lot of help here. There are countless amounts of humans in this country that are homeless, hungry and sick. Compare that to Africa. Also compare the resources. It’s astonishing, the amount of resources people have here in America to get help. It’s also astonishing that people in Africa have almost no resources in rural areas. So I am choosing to go there.

“Why can’t you just go with the church?”

Well, because as much as I love Jesus and I love to spread his Word on the daily, that’s not all I have the ability to do. I have spent the last two years of my life in school to become a nurse. Let me rephrase that: I have spent the last two years of my life in hell to become a nurse. I am for damn sure going to use the abilities that I busted my ass to learn in this world to help people. I have the capability to heal, and I believe that it’s wrong to not use that in every way I can.

Moms are made to be nervous. How can you not be nervous about a life you created in a world like this? Moms are also the toughest beings on the planet. They bring life, they give up theirs to give us ours. Then we go and do what they raised us to do- how dare we? But letting go is terrifying; I can't even let go of my high school homecoming mums. To be honest, I am thankful for my mother's fear. It's like a little Halloween mask over all the love we share. A scary, very convincing mask, but I know it's love nonetheless, so I am thankful. I am always thankful for my mom.

Moms, you raised your children to be a people that have the ability to change lives. You have stood by your children through literally everything. You have given them the fiercest type of love any human can provide. You gave them the confidence to pursue their dreams. You taught them about God, and that through Him they can do anything. You have given them everything. Yes, it’s dangerous. We, your children, know you’re scared. Yes, we are scared too (I am, anyway). We are all scared every day about every step we take. So, mom, I’m not mad that you don’t support this one hundred percent- but this is my dream. Thanks to you, I get to live it.

If volunteering is something you feel called to- check out IVHQ.org for more information.