People think my mom is kidding when she says that the first song I ever learned was the Michigan Fight Song. This might be something that she is more proud of than I. She tells the story while beaming, knowing it is rooted in the essence of our family. We moved around a lot, but no matter where we were located, we were die-hard Michigan fans. And my mother is right. I've seen the home videos; hair in tight blond ringlets, maize and blue sweatsuit, paired with a white turtleneck that brushed the underside of my chin. I pumped my fists, I sang with passion. It was 1995. I was a Wolverine.

My mom went back to school in 2003 to work toward her bachelor's degree. I sat with her as she flipped notecards, scrolled through notes, and rapidly turned textbook pages. I'd offer to quiz her for her upcoming test that evening and sometimes she agreed. A couple years later, my mom found she was unable to continue to enroll for classes. "Just get YOUR degree, Allison." But little did she know that at 12 years old, I was already making the necessary and detailed plans on how to become a Wolverine.

My Sophomore year of High School required I take a class that involved College Application writing and college search. We lived in Illinois at the time, but I had my sights set on University of Michigan-Dearborn. I clicked through the pages of the website as i daydreamed of what it would be like to study and learn there. What would I do with my life? What would I become? But honestly, at that point it didn't quite matter. College really did feel so far away.

2009 left my family broken. I was going into my Junior year, and we found ourselves uprooted and bruised from the Recession. I was in Michigan, 300 miles from the place I had spent most of my life. I was inhabiting the space I had once wished I'd end up, but then found I wanted nothing to do with. As it typically was with our moves, though, we pulled ourselves up and "made the best of it." But really, we were faking it. Following financial woes and a divorce, my family wasn't what I had known for 16 years. I studied harder to distract myself.

High School graduation crept up, though, and I had plans to 'make it big' in Radio at Central Michigan University. I had been accepted with a reasonable scholarship. I toured the campus, I filled out the appropriate forms, and interviewed potential roommates. But when it came time to fill out financial aid information, I reached for my laptop to write an email: "To Whom This May Concern, I apologize for such short notice, but my plans for Fall of 2011 have changed..." On to Community College.

I did well at Community College. As always, I studied hard out of defiance for my situation. Much of this was rooted in a melodramatic "woe is me" mantra I had established for myself, but it was working. I maintained a 4.0 at school and held a nearly full time job. Memories of my mother mumbling "I should have just gotten my degree" under her breath stung through the moments I contemplated my own path. There were many of them. It never seemed like there was enough money, enough time, enough possibility to make this degree a reality for me. However, with much prayer, relentless crying, endless fighting, and in -surmounting faith, it seemed to work itself out every semester. I would get my degree.

in January of 2013 I was accepted at University of Michigan-Dearborn.

I was ecstatic, probably more so than 80% of the student body. While I quickly discovered the many faults of my campus, I knew what it meant to feel as though I was truly learning, thinking critically, and engaging. My school has many faults. But I have been utterly blessed by the experiences I've had, the faculty I've met, and the people I've known that have walked the same halls as I.

In October of 2013, though, I was nearly killed by a drunk driver. And my goal was never to hold on to this experience, and cry endlessly until I was blue in the face. I remember being flooded with cards and flowers and well-wishes, but there was nothing I wanted more than to get back to school. I fought hard to relearn how to use my left hand and battled through memory exercises. And miraculously, and only by the loving grace of God, I got better in record time. I. would. get. my. degree.

And here I am, three years later, writing this article. Here I am three years later only one week away from walking the stage at commencement. Here I am, just as unsure on where my life will go and who I will become as I was as a Sophomore in High School. Every part of me wants to scream, "I've made it. God carried me. And he gave me the strength to MAKE IT" But I'm absolutely terrified.

We hear the horror stories. We listen to the news on rising student debt and few jobs. I know the world I am about to enter. And it terrifies me. I am shaken right down to my core. What if all of this was in vain? What if I made the wrong move? What if my life ends up in shambles?

It very well could end up there. My life will more than likely continue to have the ebbs and flows it always had. I might face a recession. I might encounter unemployment, trauma, and financial woes. But I also might face the joy that is to know that God has molded me, prepared me, and trained me for a battle that is to transform this world, whatever that may look like. Throughout my life, I have faced trial and been afraid. I have contemplated an impending doom that never seemed to fully happen. The difference between the Allison that I was then and the Allison I know now, is that I am absolutely certain that God will pick me up, plop me back on my feet and tell me, "run, do not walk."

That's what I always seemed to do, anyway. The world told me that a college degree wouldn't happen. My family wasn't the richest. I faced trials that threatened to sweep away every ounce of drive that was left in me. But God always seemed to restore me and allow my wounds to heal into stronger limbs, which allow me to run even faster. As with many of us, my injury was proven to be temporary, and extremely welcoming to regrowth. My mother's example and guidance allowed me to grasp onto the one goal that has always been: to take hold of an education, to grow as a strong, capable, and fearless woman. And to know that while the world can take away everything, they can never take away my fully formed mind, and my unwavering faith.

I'm tired. I have been commanded to "run, not walk" but I don't want to run. Not even in the slightest. But even with this hesitance, I'm actually quite ready to start running. Fearlessly. All while wholeheartedly admitting that I am trembling. But my feet are anxious. I am ready to be the woman I was called to be. I am ready to take on this world however I am able. I am ready to make the changes I was meant to make. Fearlessly, victoriously, unapologetically. After all, that's what we do as Wolverines. I've known that since 1995, donning maize and blue sweats and blond ringlets. Pumping my fists and singing passionately. Nothing, yet everything, really has changed.