I was a mess at 19. I knew who I (thought) I wanted to be, I just didn’t have the discipline to get there. I did very few things whole-heartedly. I skipped class. I semi-committed. I could never remember to take my clothes out of the wash and put them into the dryer before they got that weird moldy smell (ok sometimes I still struggle with this). I drank too much. I went to church sporadically. I worked out, but then ate my weight in chips and salsa. I listened to rap and country and Christian “rock”. I changed my hair color about as often as I changed my sheets. I got tiny tattoos that I thought I could hide. I changed my major. I didn’t make many good decisions when I was 19, but I did make at least one. I said yes when a shaggy haired guy who desperately needed to shave asked me to a soccer game. He forgot to ask for my number or say how we’d get to this soccer game. But it was enough. From the beginning, it felt different. Mostly I just tried not to screw it up (and I did a few