It's 93 degrees in Atlanta and I just went for a run. I'm sitting at our dinner table as the cool A/C blows across my legs. Our house is silent; the birds are chirping over the sound of the air conditioner working overtime outside. Everything is normal for Atlanta in July.

Except, I just quit my job.

The mundane and the routine create a stark contrast to my racing heart. 

I've written this post a number of times as I have prepared for this day. I had no idea that, once I finally made the move, I would feel absolutely everything. 

My hands shook and my heart raced for a full hour leading up to me quitting. When I sat down with my bosses, I immediately started crying. The first thing out of my mouth was that I just didn't want to disappoint them. 

I vacillated between fear, worry, excitement and elation over the next hour as we talked through my exit strategy. 

Choosing to quit has been a decision I've belabored during the last year. I love my coworkers, my boss and, to be honest, I don't mind the work. 

But, something inside me couldn't be quieted. Every day, my should was shrinking and my must was growing. My desire to work with women and girls was pressing harder and harder against my chest - creating tension I couldn't ignore. My heart itched as I sat in my cubicle; constantly reminding me I must do this, I must do this.

I felt God asking me to trust Him. To give Him this season. 

The longer I sat in my cubicle, the more the feeling overcame me:

I have to take a chance on myself. I have to trust these feelings. I cannot let fear keep me contained. 

This decision is not about disliking my job. It's about moving into a new season; one where I anticipate there will be some of my highest highs and lowest lows. 

I don't know what will happen next. I've said this before and I'll say it again: I want to be honest in this space. I don't want to give you the impression that I snapped my fingers and poof! had a business. It has been a story of slow growth and competing priorities. It has been a struggle between my head & my heart and fear & faith. 

I hope that as I take this step, I can allow you into this process. I hope I learn to trust the Lord deeply and lean on Chris more. 

I don't know what the rest of 2016 will hold for me. I don't know where I'll be led or where I will fail and succeed.

The only thing I'm sure of is that, on this day, I'm doing something that feels scary, exciting and, most of all, like I was meant to do this all along.