Search
  • Ayanna A.

Limits.



I was driving home along the 405 this week around 630/7 PM. It’s become one of my favorite stretch of driving because you can get mountain views like no other place in LA. The sun was setting and the sky was lit up in this unearthly pink color and sprinkled with clouds.

And I had the thought, If someone had told me 10 years ago I’d be where I am, I wouldn’t have believed them.

Where was I ten years ago? August 2011 I was completing my last credit needed to make the degree I walked across the stage to receive that June official (Accounting 101). I was subletting a room in a house in Philadelphia and furiously applying to every entry level consulting job I could get my hands on.

In less than two months I would board a plane to Los Angeles to accept a pharmaceutical research job in Beverly Hills. It was SO left field. But see, I had been seeking after God that summer, that whole year actually.

And I said no longer do I want to orchestrate the big and small details of my life. God I want Your Best. I want what You feel is best.


I surrendered. I trusted. I moved my feet.


I began a new life bringing with me only two checked bags in a city were I knew two people.

But I wasn’t afraid. I honestly never felt alone, because I knew within me that He was with me. I never once considered what could go wrong. I had a strong sense that God had me.


As I was driving last week, I remembered all of this. And I considered all the high and low moments I’ve walked through since then, until now.

And I marveled.


If you had told me at 21 I would be where I am now, working in a field I have a passion for, with true family all over so Cal and the world, I would have said “I could never do that. No way I can do that.”


I would have doubted— no, negated— my ability to ever attain it.


To attain what I now have.


So then I asked “What could I do in the next 10 years?”


The sky isn’t even the limit.

Holy Spirit, help me to think bigger. Without limits.


2 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All