At twenty-six years old, I still am, and will always be, the baby of the family. My older brother and sister are twins, almost four years older than me. As you might guess, my mom had her hands full when I was born. It took me fourteen months of being carried around before I learned how to walk-mostly because every time I would stand up to try to take a few steps, one of the twins would knock me down. I'm not sure if this was a result of their excitement that their baby sister was standing up or just some kind of cruel game, but it nevertheless impeded my first steps. It took a lot of tenacity, persistence, and courage on my part to keep rising and attempting that first tentative move forward.

When I finally accomplished the milestone of learning to walk, I could not be stopped. I grew up always on the move. My childhood memories are a blur of running, jumping, skipping, and dancing. When I got older, this energetic lifestyle continued as I marched in the high school band, traversed the woods near my parents' house, and fetched horses from fields practically every day. It has always been astounding to me how, after starting with one simple step as babies, we are soon able to navigate and explore the world so easily and excitedly. This first step is so vital in our lives. It opens up opportunities, facilitates independence, and also creates a lot more trouble for our parents!

Despite the impact this developmental milestone has on our lives, many of us do not remember when we first learned to walk. We rely on the stories of those who were there and saw it happen. We do not recall how many times we fell or stumbled throughout the process, or the persistence, trust, and sheer willpower it took to continue to pick ourselves back up. As a result, when a test, trial, or tragedy knocks us down later in life, we do not instinctively remember how to rise again, take that first step, and move forward.

In 2015, I faced a personal tragedy that knocked me down in a very sudden and unexpected way. It was a blow that caused me to fall not only physically, but spiritually and emotionally as well. I felt as though my feet had been swept out from under me as I dealt with the grief, shock, and pain that came with the enormous life changes that I faced. I lost so much. My sense of normalcy, my independence, my sense of self, and much more. Although my feet still worked physically, I was now unsure of them in a way that felt so unfamiliar.

As I had done so many years ago as a fourteen-month-old, I had to learn how to walk again in more ways than one-and that first step was difficult. In fact, it felt downright impossible at times. However, just like it does for us as young children, taking the first step after a trial can open up so many opportunities-opportunities for healing, growth, and for God to work in our lives in ways that we never imagined before. Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Faith is taking the first step, even when you can't see the whole staircase."

Through the chapters that follow, I will share my journey and how I learned to move forward after my own tragedy, trust God, and ultimately walk by faith, not by sight.