I credit my parents for helping me to always see God at work. Growing up there wasn’t much money around, but we never went without. Somehow or another, we always had what we needed, and my parents were always quick to point me toward the true source. When I made my faith my own as a young teen, I started to serve in my home church and quickly discovered more than just old people that I had to put up with. I found spiritual family that sustained me. When I left home at 18 to study the Bible at a school in Switzerland, I went knowing that I didn’t have the funds that I needed. I was starry-eyed and arrogant. I thought I could do everything on my own. Even if I trusted God to provide financially, I was pretty much coasting on my own merit. All of that changed for me that year. He put me in contact with a local church that had a neat outreach to the local refugee housing center and though conversation with hurting people helped me to realize how much I took for granted. He also showed me that the ways He could best use me had nothing to do with what I had to offer. During that year, I also suffered the greatest injury I’ve ever had and as I floundered through a medical system in another country, in another language, I came to realize that I wasn’t as dependant on Him as I needed to be. He continued to break me in the places where I needed it and to rebuild in the rubble of my false identity. When I came back from that one-year program, I was a new person in many ways. I understood God in a deeper, more personal sense, and had a stronger drive to let Him use me. I think that sometimes we can think that we’re helping God, when in reality, He’s building something and takes delight in giving our childish actions a place in His plan. I had come to know just how childish I was and just how reliant I needed to be on the Father. A year after returning home, I discovered that the insurance I had held while I was in Europe was a scam and I actually owed every penny to the hospital and doctors who had taken care of me. God provided, and even though I can’t conceive of how it worked out, I paid off $12,000 worth of medical debt in a year working part-time at a minimum wage job. God’s math doesn’t tend to match itself to ours, and I couldn’t be more thankful. When after working another year, God called me to start school again, I still couldn’t see the road, but He does and I’m banking on Him to use me wherever he calls me. I know that the desire he’s given me to reach for the outcast and walk with the broken is His.

To me, rugby family means getting up early to make practice because you know that once you get there, no matter what your coach puts you through, smiles are guaranteed. Rugby family means not worrying about whether or not you brought a hair tie or KT tape, because even if no one on your team has a spare, somebody on the other team probably does. Rugby family means becoming besties with the prop across from you because you both laughed when one of the hookers farted. Rugby family means feeling supported on your down days and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that your girls have your back. Now that I've got them, I'm not letting them go. However, that wasn't always the case. As the second oldest of five children, outside of gym class, sports weren't an option. It wasn't that my parents were against them, we just didn't have the time or the money. In high school, I had friends who played for the school rugby team and I remember watching the camaraderie and banter between them, seeing the bruises after matches which were worn like badges of honor, and hearing the accompanying stories. I remember wishing that I could join, or even take the time to watch a match. I never thought I would get to be part of a team until I applied to my college and was reached out to by a member of the team. From the get-go, I felt welcomed, seen, and accepted. I finally felt like being strong was a good thing, that I didn't have to be small or delicate. Working out became something that I did with friends, something I could share with others. Suddenly, my biceps were cool rather than "manly" or "too much" and the fact that I have powerful shoulders was a good thing. It has been a joy to be welcomed into my rugby family, to get to care for such great people, and experience community in a way that I never got growing up. Rugby is the first sport I have ever played, and from the day that I set foot on the field, I have been in love - not just with the sport, but with the community that I have found. As a newbie to my school's 7s team, I have never felt less than even though girls much younger than me have been playing for far longer and have way more experience than I do. I've loved learning the different strategies and roles, although I am definitely partial to getting to play prop. I know I have a long way to go, but I'm dedicated to putting in the work, spending the time, and learning anything my coach and teammates can teach me. So, what does Rugby family mean to me? It means fighting for what you love. It means being tough, but not because you have to go it alone. Rugby family means being seen, treasured, and accepted. Rugby family is something worth fighting for.