It’s taken me a while, but I’m finally ready to share this full story with you. This might be a long one…
Many of you know that I recently graduated with my Master of Theological Studies from Fuller Seminary in Pasadena, California. The journey was long and filled with many valleys. I quit more than once. I declared I’d never go back (be careful what you declare, lol). I cried more tears than I can count. But in the end, I refused to let COVID, financial strain, unemployment, illness, homelessness, loss, or any other obstacle keep me from completing my goal. After all, if we start a thing, we must Finish A Thing. (Some of you will catch that).
While working through my program, I became deeply interested in the integration between theology and psychology. It felt like the work I’d been doing all my life, but without the formal training. It was too late to change my major, but I began exploring Fuller’s PsyD program. Everything about it felt right. So right, in fact, that I wondered why I hadn’t discovered it sooner.
I got serous. I started prerequisites. I gathered application materials. I wrote essays. I flew to California, met with housing, toured the campus, and even spoke to a student whose background mirrored mine. I submitted my application, had my all-day interviews, and set my move date. Everything was in place. For someone who had never planned to pursue a doctoral degree, I was surprisingly at peace. Scared, but excited. I had found a path that brought all of my passions together. And I was ready.
I remember when I saw the email. It was March 6, around 3 pm. My stomach fluttered with anticipation. I wanted to be cute and open it with all my friends so we could scream and celebrate together. So they’d have a REAL reason to keep calling me “Doc”, even though I told them not to. But I couldn’t wait.
I clicked it.
”Dear Ms. Nelson, your application for admission has been reviewed by the Admissions Committee of the School of Psychology & Marriage Therapy, Department of Clinical Psychology. We regret that we were unable to…”
I read those words over and over. My tears blurred the letters, but my heart magnified the meaning. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t process. In all of my preparation, all of my planning, all of my excitement, it never dawned on me that I wouldn’t get in. Not because I was arrogant. But because everything had aligned so perfectly, so effortlessly. The trip, the conversations, the clarity…it all seemed to confirm that this was the way.
There was no backup plan. No contingency. No what-if.
Devastation swept in like a summer storm. Failure echoed like thunder. Disbelief struck like lightning. I sent a heavy message to the women in my ministry and then I shut down. No praying. No processing. I was numb. For a while, I stayed in that space, sitting in my disappointment, confusion, anger and pain. Some people didn’t understand my reaction, or my silence, but it didn’t matter. It was mine to carry. I had no direction, no plan, and no idea what to do next.
Looking back now, I can see that God was in the details all along. I still don’t fully understand the “no”, but shortly after, things began to shift. The Department of Education was dismantled, and higher education as we knew it changed. My personal life shifted in ways that would’ve been hard to navigate from over 2,000 miles away.
And then I remembered: there was another part of the plan. A ministry to birth. A graduation to prepare for. A call to obey. S.H.I.P.P. Ministries Worldwide was officially born. Quietly. I filed for 501(c)(3) status. I built a new website. I registered a business. I was affirmed. But I told no one. Not out of shame, but because I wasn’t yet sure how to be proud. Or maybe I was still afraid to be.
Eventually, the fog of self-doubt lifted. Maybe the denial wasn’t a rejection but a redirection. Maybe the “no” was actually a nudge to keep following the instructions God had given me from the beginning. I stopped trying to figure it all out and chose instead to trust Him again. That’s when the heaviness began to lift. Let me be clear. I still don’t have all the answers. I don’t know why I couldn’t go to California and pursue that dream. But what I do know is this: sometimes divine detours don’t make sense until much later. And sometimes they never make sense at all. Divine detours are not dead ends. They are redirections to something just as purposeful, just as holy, just as necessary.
I’m still walking. Still trusting. Still building. And that, too, is a part of the journey.
Momma is so proud of you. The best is yet to come, it ‘s only up from here. Love you🙏🏽❤️