As I sat in the cold, sterile room at Children’s Hospital in Dallas, I watched my daughter being prepped for her EEG test. A few months before, I received the news that my seemingly perfect, healthy child actually had an incurable disease. Not only was the disease something I couldn’t even pronounce, but it also caused tumors in her brain that would eventually lead to seizures. The day had come for her to face one of many uncomfortable, painful tests.

As I’ve entered this New Year, I’ve had a lot of hope for what lies ahead. I’m a futuristic person by nature, so I set my sights very high in all areas of my life: ministry, marriage, friendship—the list goes on and on. Because of this, it’s easy for me to get disappointed when what I dream for doesn’t happen. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to concentrate on the things that don’t happen rather than the good that’s around me.

Our car has one of those gas gauges with a little light that comes on when you reach a certain level of fuel in the tank. It’s a warning light (I know this because of its orange-yellow color). It lets me know when the fuel level is getting too low. Through a series of experiments (none of which I will share at this moment), I’ve determined that when the light comes on, I have exactly 2.6 gallons of fuel left in the tank. If I need 2.7 gallons of fuel to get to the nearest gas station, then I’m doomed to roadside assistance.

Yesterday was a hard day for me. I will be moving to Arizona in six months, which is incredibly exciting, but also really hard at times. It’s exciting because I’ve never been more certain that God is telling me to do something. This is what I’ve always dreamed of doing, but it’s also been difficult is some ways. Texas is the only home I’ve ever known. The majority of my close family and friends live within 250 miles. Everything I’ve worked for my entire life feels like it’s nowhere else but here.