My First Skydiving Experience

"What have I gotten myself into?" I thought as I scribbled my initials for the thirtieth time on the longest waiver I'd ever seen. I hadn't been nervous at all in the week leading up to my first tandem skydive, until the moment I read through the extremely thorough legal document that forces you to acknowledge over and over again how your decision to jump could result in your injury or death. It was a little unnerving to say the least. 

I've always wanted to try skydiving, so when my cousin, Savannah, told me she was going for her birthday, I eagerly agreed to jump with her. Our first appointment was canceled due to cloudy weather, but we rescheduled for the next day and I'm so glad we did. It was a beautiful, sunny day with blue cloudless skies and perfect visibility.

Dallas Skydive Center is about 45 minutes northeast of downtown Dallas. We arrived and checked in at the hangar, where we met the staff and our instructors, the people we were ultimately entrusting with our lives. They helped us into our harnesses and quickly went over the rules and instructions for executing a safe jump. My mind was hardly in a calm enough state to remember the order and timing of each thing I was supposed to do in the air. But there was no time to hesitate or back out. We were both ushered into the back of what looked like a miniature toy plane.

My instructor looked very young, like he could have been 29 or 19. His electric blue mohawk made me wonder if it was the latter. As we ducked into the plane, I asked him, "So Ben, how many times have you done this?"

"How many times would make you feel comfortable?" he replied.

"I don't know, somewhere in the triple digits at least."

"Well then let's go with exactly 100."

Okay, cool. He might be new. It's totally fine. I'm totally fine. It's gonna be fine.

The plane took off and we began to make wide circles as we climbed to higher altitudes. My cousin pointed out downtown Dallas far off in the distance. I smiled and nodded, trying not to reveal how much I was freaking out internally. Once we reached 13,500 feet, it was time to jump. The door flew open to a deafening rush of cold wind and I watched as Savannah and her instructor stepped out and disappeared. That's when the reality of it hit me. This was really happening!

As we prepared to go next, Ben turned to me and said, "I was just messing with you earlier. I've been doing this for nine years and have over a thousand jumps logged." Oh, thank God! We scooted to the ledge. I put on my goggles. Ben placed his left foot on the rail and I followed suit. I then couldn't remember whose right foot was supposed to go out first, but I didn't have long to think about it. The next thing I knew, we were jumping and falling at hundreds of feet per second. During the 50 second free fall, the wind pushed against my face, giving me massive chipmunk cheeks and chapped lips and I knew there was no way any of the GoPro photos that were being snapped were going to be flattering. And I was definitely right about that.

Suddenly the parachute released, bringing an instant sense of relief. I thanked God as we slowly drifted back to safe ground. The houses and backyards and tiny swimming pools moved in slow motion like a film sequence beneath my feet. It was surreal and exhilarating and I felt fully alive in that moment.

A video posted by leah richardson (@leahrichardson) on Jun 8, 2016 at 1:45pm PDT

I can't help but marvel at the timing of this skydiving experience. On the Tuesday before my jump, I received some pretty big news about my company that ordinarily would have caused me to stress and worry and be anxious. But if I've learned anything in the last three years, it's that God is good and His timing is perfect and I can fully trust in Him. When I reflect on other times in my life that were marked my uncertainty and doubt, I'm able to now see God's faithfulness in bringing me through those situations and out of fear and into greater joy.

I know that I could very well be in for a bumpy road ahead. Between job searching and preparing for a big trip abroad, a lot could go wrong in the next month or two. But I know that there are good things in store for me and I've been blessed with a wonderful community who will help support me along the way.

For God doesn't give us a spirit of fear, but one of power and love and self control (2 Timothy 1:7). Beginning a new chapter may be terrifying, but as I step out into the unknown, I know that the parachute will eventually open, the clouds will part, and I'll land safely on my feet again.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7

Finding Home

Last weekend I drove to the town where I grew up to celebrate Easter with my family. All my life, I've called this town and the house where I was raised "home." However on three separate occasions during the weekend, I referred to Dallas as home--two words that two years ago, I never would have imagined belonging in the same sentence together. 

At this time in 2013, I had just returned home from what I thought was my greatest adventure--a seven-month solo backpacking trip on the opposite side of the world. I returned to living with my family in my small hometown again, without employment, a sense of independence or any certainty about my life. Those four months broke me and tested my patience and faith in every way possible. After dozens of job applications and multiple rounds of interviews in places like Houston, Austin, DC, Fort Worth and even Guyana (yes, the country), I began to lose hope that I would ever find a job. 

And then one morning, I randomly decided to apply for a job in Dallas. And in less than 24 hours, I received a phone call from the CEO and a formal offer letter. Some might attribute this to a stroke of "right time, right place" kind-of-luck, but I knew it was more than that. I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of assurance and certainty that Dallas is where God wanted me to be. And so just like that, I packed my things into my little car and moved to Dallas.

It may not have been the easiest transition, but I now can look back on that period of waiting and uncertainty with joy and appreciation. It taught me that I am not in control of everything and I relearned how to trust in God's plan for my life. Reflecting on this time, I'm reminded of Psalm 23: 

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

He leads me beside quiet waters,

He refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley,

I will fear no evil, for you are with me; 

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

I'm so thankful for a God who loves me and guides me in the right direction, even when I'm a stubborn little sheep with my own agenda. His patience and faithfulness were greater than my impatience and prejudices against a city I barely knew. Though I never could have pictured myself living in Dallas then, I'm happy to now call this place home. And I know that no matter where life's journey takes me, as long as I put my trust in the Lord, he'll always lead me home.

Moving Pains

After doing the math, I've realized this is the eleventh time I've moved in the last five years. I wish that were a joke. But since I left my small hometown to attend university in the fall of 2008, I've moved twice each year--at the beginning of summer and again in the fall. Let's break this down:

1. Fall '08: Moved to Fort Worth to begin college
2. Summer '09: Moved back to my hometown (Sealy) to work for the summer
3. Fall '09: Back to school in Fort Worth
4. Summer '10: Studied abroad with Semester at Sea in the Mediterranean
5. Fall '10: Fort Worth
6. Summer '11: Germany for a three-month internship
7. Fall '12: Fort Worth
8. Summer '12: Sealy
9. Fall '12: Moved to Australia 
10. Summer '13: Came back home to Sealy
11. Fall '13: Moved to Dallas

Moving is exhausting in every way possible. In addition to the physical defeat that comes with repeatedly packing and unpacking your life into boxes and suitcases, there's also an emotional toll involved. This is especially true when you're uncertain of whether you're making the right move or if you'll see the friends you've said goodbye to again.

This most recent move to Dallas has seemed like the most challenging one yet, which is ridiculous considering it's within my own home state. But my move here was quick and unpremeditated. And I didn't arrive to a backpacker hostel or college dormitory, where it's easy to make new acquaintances who are all in the same boat. Similarly, apartment leases are no longer in sync with school semesters, so for the first time in five years, I'm living without a roommate (or two or seven). 

I was lucky enough throughout college to have most of my furniture and household supplies provided as a part of my living arrangement. The few appliances and items I did own were sold in a garage sale last summer to help me fund my travels, so when I moved into my little 1BR flat, I had to completely start from scratch. One month later, and I'm still sleeping on an air mattress and eating breakfast on an ironing board, while my kitchen supplies are a mix of camping cutlery (spork anyone?) and take out boxes. And to be honest, I'm kind of okay with that right now. 

Anytime I think about buying a piece of furniture or a mattress, I consider the opportunity cost--a plane ticket to visit a friend. Besides, once you have furniture, moving becomes a whole new ball game. So for the time being, I'll continue living à la Holly Golightly, where there's no furniture in sight, but plenty of milk and champagne in the fridge.

The Color Run

I've said it once and I'll say it again-- this year is flying by way too quickly! I still can't believe it's March! When did that happen? And that's why this post is coming to you two weeks late. On Sunday, February 19, I participated in the Color Run in Dallas. It was so much fun and the perfect, laid-back outlet for accomplishing my semester goal of running a 5K. I was also glad to spend some time in Dallas doing something besides sitting in traffic or an office building.

What's the Color Run? It's a 5K where you dress in all white, but arrive at the finish line in a kaleidoscope of colors. Watch the video below or check out the website for more details. It was a blast and I would definitely recommend signing up for it, if the tour stops in your city!

Emily Nutt

Jake VanDonge

Jon Dressler

Lauren Christlieb

A Tale of Two Cities

Confession: I am a double agent, living two separate lives. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I roll out of bed before 8:00 am, pack a lunch and walk to Smith Hall, where I spend most of the day, until 5:00 pm, in a classroom like this:

On these two days of the week, I am a student.     (TCU360)

But every other day, I wake up earlier, sometimes at 5:00 am. I put on nice clothes, pack a lunch, and drive for an hour until I arrive in North Dallas. I park in a multilevel garage and take the elevator to here:

On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I am a working professional.

This is A Tale of Two Cities, or rather A Tale of Living Between Two Cities. I never imagined myself becoming a commuter, but I've also never been one to turn down a knocking opportunity. And now in my last semester of university, I am taking 15 credit hours in Fort Worth and working 25 hours at an internship in Dallas. Words like conference call, break room, toll road, and spreadsheet have become a regular part of my vernacular.  Silent elevator rides, drinking at least three cups of coffee, untangling the headset from my hair, and carrying an access card are just a part of my new daily routine. In the mornings I drive eastward into the sunrise, and on my way home, I drive westward into the setting sun until I reach the friendly, twinkling lights of Fort Worth. Meanwhile, I watch the clock advance, my fuel gauge drain, mileage increase, and the speedometer fluctuate sporadically between 0 and 75.  As I sit in traffic, passing DFW Airport, I gaze at the dozens of planes flying gracefully overhead. I like to imagine all the places those people are going and invent their adventures in my head. I also remind myself that all the work and extra driving will pay off whenever I'm able to board a plane once more and have adventures of my own. Though I spend my mornings and evenings in the glow of red brake-lights, I feel like this year is perpetually at a green light, with no breaks or time to stop. There's only 13 weeks until graduation! I'm not freaking out or anything...

A Tourist in Fort Worth

This past week I was visited by Kristina, one of my good friends that I met through study abroad. She flew down from New York for her second trip to Texas. Having friends visit is always fun, because it gives me the opportunity to play tourist in my own city. I managed to cross many locations off my ever-growing list of places to go to before I graduate. On Thursday evening we put on our boots and headed to the Fort Worth Stock Show & Rodeo which was followed by dancing at Billy Bob's, the world's largest honky tonk. We spent the weekend days shopping in Dallas and nights at the piano bar and salsa club in downtown Fort Worth.

On Sunday morning we watched the cattle drive in the Stockyards, which is obviously geared toward visitors, but I think it's cool that they still do it daily, and I can at least say I've been to it now. Afterwards we brunched at the Modern Art Museum and then browsed the permanent collection there. I'm no modern art aficionado, but I was amused looking at the pieces with light-hearted friends who were also uninterested in over-analyzing every brush stroke.

It was so great reuniting with one of my Semester at Sea friends after a year of being apart. We had a fun-filled week together, catching up and laughing about old times. I hope her trips to Texas becomes an annual tradition and that our reunions become more frequent than every 12 months!