SEEN
When I was a senior in high school, I heard about the Walton International Scholarship Program (WISP) from my English teacher, Miss Marie.
Miss Marie was one of those teachers that no one would mess with. Not even the Harolds and Darias would cross her. In class, she was stern, unsmiling. But she was actually lovely once you got to know her (Nyhan would roll her eyes and kiss her teeth).
One day, after her class, Miss Marie called me over to her desk and said that she had something for me. I was intrigued. She went into her old satchel and pulled out some papers, and handed them to me. It was an application for the Walton Scholarship–a program that awards students from Central America and Mexico full-ride scholarships to universities in the US.
"You're my best English student, and I think that you have a good chance. Fill these out and bring them back to me." I was surprised, to say the least.
I had never heard about the Walton Scholarship. And before that day, I hadn't considered living anywhere else but in Nicaragua. I took the application and thanked her for thinking of me. But in all honesty, I didn't want to apply. I already had plans—my friends and I were going to León to attend the same college and live together. Though, this was as far as my college plans went. I didn't really know where I was going or if I could even afford to go to university. My mom was unemployed, and life was a mess.
I took the papers Miss Marie gave to me and went home to show them to my mom. She was ecstatic! Me? Not so much. She told me that I had to fill them out and hand them in ASAP. So I did, unenthusiastically, and hoping I wouldn't get it so that I could stay close to my friends and boyfriend.
AWAKENING DREAMS
A couple of weeks after I submitted the initial forms, I received news that I had made it to the second round of the application process, along with a few other students from Managua. First of all, I didn't know that there were rounds. And secondly, I didn't know that students all over Nicaragua were applying for the same spot. I was clueless. I walked out of the office where I had spoken to my interviewer, not understanding what had just happened. And still hoping not to get it.
At that point in my life, everything around me seemed to be changing–my family unit, our living situation, our financial (in)stability, and safety. I didn't know where to turn or what to do. But because God's plans were bigger than mine, and by His grace, I made it to the final interview.
When we arrived at the hotel in Managua where the interviews were being held, we met Marlon Clair, a former Walton Scholar and family acquaintance. He spent some time telling me about his experiences studying abroad. It was then when it all felt real. Suddenly, hope was fluttering in my stomach like butterflies wanting to break loose.
See, stories are powerful. They can breathe life into dreams and cause them to come alive. My previously dormant excitement had been awakened by the memories of Marlon's experience at Ozarks.
I wanted it. I wanted to go.
I realized how important this opportunity was during my interview with the WISP directors. I sat across the table from Dr. Casey, Dr. Boyd, and Dr. Johnson, and answered their questions to the best of my ability.
I believed it was going well, despite their stoic expressions. At the end of the interview, Dr. Casey asked what I had to bring to any one of the three universities. I had to think about it for a minute, but I reckoned that it was my determination, however unacademic and straightforward it sounded. I remember saying, "I want to learn, and I'm not embarrassed to ask questions that will help me move forward..."
At that point, I had an out-of-body experience–I could see myself interacting with the three directors in a language I'd never spoken out loud before. Where had this come from? The confidence. The drive. Where were all of those words stored? And since when was I able to string together perfect sentences in English?
Side Note: Before these interviews, I had never spoken English. In Bluefields, we speak Creole/Patois (a broken-English dialect) and Spanish. I had no idea if my English was comprehendible. The first time I ever wrote an essay was for this application (I recently read it and it was embarrassingly appalling).
Before I left the interview, Dr. Casey looked at me, smiling for the first time since the interview started, and said, "I look forward to seeing you again."
My mom and I returned to Bluefields, and I went back to working at my dad's bar. Life went back to normal for a couple of months until I got the call.
"CONGRATULATIONS. YOU GOT THE WALTON SCHOLARSHIP!"
I hung up the phone and RAN home to give my mom the good news. I couldn't believe it. I had been chosen over ALL of the other Nicaraguan students who had applied for the scholarship. And I could never take any credit for that accomplishment. It was God's plan and His will.
God set me apart and chose me, even before I met Him. The scholarship was His rescue plan. The University of the Ozarks was our meeting place. There, at my first home away from home, I would be freed from the grip of my blue prisons. And there, I would know that I was loved. All along. Forever.
UNMERITED BLESSINGS & NEW LIFE
The beginning of a new journey.
