It was pouring rain… and cold. It was so cold. My umbrella, raincoat, and rain boots had been left in the safety of my warm, dry dorm that morning. The converse that covered my feet squeaked with every step. I continued to check my phone. The next bus would not be approaching for another eight minutes. Someone tapped my shoulder. “You’re bag is open,” he said. “I’m going to zip it for you.” I murmured a thanks and continued to sulk about my misfortune. As I stood waiting for a bus, a stranger approached me from behind. Without hesitation, she covered me with her umbrella, shielding me from the pelting rain. I turned around and she smiled. “I thought you might like to share my umbrella,” she said. Within minutes, a bus pulled up to the curb. We shuffled on, and the two strangers shuffled out of sight.

Since the fourth grade, I have been attending a Christian athletic camp in Missouri called Kanakuk. My family has rightfully named it “Our Piece of Heaven on Earth.” Four summers ago, I entered the gates of Kanakuk and tears welled in my eyes. My heart was messy; it was broken and heavy with burden. As I found myself in the midst of joy and Jesus, my heart broke a little more. My testimony has never been captivatingly dramatic. However, at 15 years old, I was a slave to perfectionism and trapped in a vortex of unworthiness. During the two weeks I spent in Shell Knob, Missouri that summer, I began to unpack my heart. Parts of my heart that had been hardened for so long began to soften and break. As camp began to wind down and come to a close, Joe White, President and CEO of Kanakuk, spent one of the last nights explaining grace.

I had heard the term grace used my whole life, but it wasn’t until I was sitting under the stars on Kanakuk K2’s football field that I finally understood the immensity, the purity, and the beauty of the word grace. For far too long I had lived my life as “the good bible study girl," but I had secrets, burning mistakes, and wounds around my endless chase of perfection, which could not be healed through transparent prayers and a Christian girl checklist.

I had spent many moments of weakness in that previous year standing in front of a mirror, counting my flaws and raging for change. I had named myself unworthy, unwanted, unloved, and not enough. As Joe White began to describe a God full of love, compassion, and mercy, I hung on to every word. I craved to know this God who deemed me, a lonely and broken child, worthy and chosen and lovable and enough. It was while sitting under the stars on Kanakuk K2’s football field that I finally understood Jesus.

I am enough simply because Jesus says, "You are enough." As I was chasing perfection, I was running from Jesus. However, without warning and in the midst of utter chaos, my heart was captivated by a perfect Jesus. No longer was my life measured by sin (or lack thereof). I began to measure my life by an unending, unwavering, unceasing love—a grace-filled love that I did not ask for, nor did I deserve.

On the worst of the worst kind of days, two strangers saw my struggle. I had surrendered defeat to the ongoing rain and remained stubborn, my rain-stained converse glued to the puddle forming around me, yet two strangers came to my rescue. In the midst of a rainy season, I was given a helping hand and shelter from the storm. Without necessary reason, two strangers chose to remove my burden and showed me kindness that I could not explain. As I got back to my dorm and changed clothing, I continued to reflect on the random acts of kindness. Smiling to myself, I decided to call them “glimpses of grace.”