Picture this: it’s two years ago in Orlando, Florida and a 20-year-old girl has just started the semester of a lifetime in the Disney college program. That’s the (literal) dream. It’s also extremely terrifying because picture this too: a 20-year-old white girl from Texas leaves everything she has ever known to start a temporary life in a state over a thousand miles away; alone. I’m talking about myself, a shocking twist, I know. But this isn’t really about me, it’s about God and the lesson of a lifetime (but what’s the difference, really?).

When I applied for the Disney college program, I did so because I felt called there by God himself. Now, this is not something I ever say lightly, because I never said it before then and I haven’t said it since. God and I have a relationship, but I struggle with it just like everyone else and a lot of times I feel like I get mixed signals from the man upstairs. This time, though, this time, was different; I literally felt pulled, almost by gravity, to go to Florida for the program and I had no idea why. I knew it was something I had always wanted, but it was somehow a little bit out of reach until I stepped out of the little box I’d been residing in and just went for it. When I got my acceptance letter, I dropped to the floor in tears. This wasn’t a holy-crap-I cannot-believe-this-is-happening drop to my knees, this was a literal-holy-God-is in-this-room-right-now-and-I-cannot-stand kind of drop. So long story short, I packed up all my things and headed to the place where dreams come true and my parents dropped me off, terrified.

I get there, step into my new apartment, and three girls run in after me speaking only in Spanish but obviously all knew each other very well. This horrified me for two reasons: I do not make friends easily and a foreign trio was sure to be difficult to infiltrate, and where I grew up (hang with me here I know this part sounds terrible) people that spoke Spanish were terrible to me. So here I am, poor little white me in a room full of people that scared me to death. I was devastated. But it’s Disney, right? Suck it up, Rachel and go get your job assignment and be happy. I did just that, minus the happy because my job assignment sucked. I was stuck in a resort deli, sort of like a subway, and the costume was hideous. But it’s Disney, right? Suck it up, Rachel and go to work and be happy. So I did that, again minus the happy because I got off at the wrong bus stop my first day and my boss drove me to the right spot as I cried all my makeup off. But it’s Disney, right? Suck it up, Rachel and just..nope. Nope I cannot. Where the hell was God now, and why the hell was all this happening? Alone, crappy roommates, crappy job; what the actual hell? Well, I learned really fast where God was. He never left me.

A couple days of work go by and I made a few friends: Basilio came first, he trained me; a nice, hard-working African-American guy from somewhere in New York. He introduced me to my next trainer, Uriel; a nice, quiet African-American guy from Orlando. He introduced me to Nestor, a hilarious beyond belief Spanish looking guy from New Jersey. So I get invited to hang out at Hollywood Studios with Nestor and Uriel. We spent the day there riding rides (without Nestor because he is a chicken), and laughing non-stop. That day, I felt God again but another feeling was there too; who is this Uriel guy, really? I started to see him in a whole new light. Not an oh-my-gosh-he’s-so-cute-I-must-date-him light, just a this-guy-is-awesome-lets-be-friends light. So we became friends, no intentions, no feelings, just friends. I have never been the same, but this isn’t really our love story. It’s something else entirely.

Here’s the deal: I saw their race. I always saw people’s race. Think about what I have said here: white girl, Spanish-speaking roommates, African-American guy, Spanish guy. That’s what I saw when I met them. I saw their race. I mean, I was raised to be nice and polite and to NEVER judge a book by its cover. I didn’t, and these guys became my best friends (plus a few others: Whitney, Jordan, and Alex; that is another incredible story) but I always saw their race. Then I fell in love with Uriel and I found out some things: he is African-American, Native American, and Korean. Those are things I never saw. I also found that after a while, I stopped seeing it at all. There’s the kicker, right there. I stopped seeing in black and white and I started seeing in color. That sounds crazy because people normally say we should all be color blind when it comes to seeing people- I disagree. See in color. PEOPLE, good PEOPLE, exude brightness, and warmth and vibrant color in their soul, choose to see that. See the dark, ominous color that surrounds bad PEOPLE. See PEOPLE (I’m capitalizing because I need you to understand the word PEOPLE) for who they are, and that does not include seeing the color of their skin. I saw that for so long, but God knew better.

I didn’t know why God called me to Florida when I first applied for the program, then I found Uriel and I knew immediately. The love of my life was there, holding a lesson that I needed to learn to live a happy life. Here I am two years later, engaged to a man with three races mixed into one incredible human being. (You can begin feeling jealous of how beautiful our babies will be.) Here I am planning a wedding that Spanish-looking, actually, Puerto Rican guy (Nestor) will be officiating. Here I am watching my Spanish-speaking, actually, Puerto Rican, roommates’ lives unfold as they become strong, successful, loving, beautiful individuals. Here I am, two years later in an unstoppable, fire-fueled, God-centered, fiercely loving, interracial relationship. Because God lead me, and I chose to stop seeing in black and white.