Hannah Trontvet My family has two mottoes: “Don’t think about what you have time for, but what will make a good story later,” and, “Always go on an adventure together, because it would be better to die together than apart.”
Yeah, that last one is kind of morbid. But it was true. My parents took my brothers and I everywhere.
Before I get into my adventures, a little about me:
The first twelve years of my life were spent in a purple-grey house on the corner of one busy street and one street whose owners were constantly changing. The road in front of our house was the city borderline, so on Fourth of July we waved our sparklers and laughed in freedom bliss. Then we went inside and played, “firework or gunshot.” In the winter, my brothers and I would look out the front window and find tire tracks in the snow that covered our front yard. I honestly don’t know how a car even got through our yard because we had multiple, impressive oak trees growing there. On the day-to-day, my brothers and I took care of our ten chickens and picked fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden to feed to our guinea pigs (properly named Carrot and Apple). The chickens were an interesting influence in my life. First off, they were all named after a Disney princess. That fact holds little to no significance other than I find it amusing. However, for some reason I went through a chicken phase during my preschool and elementary years. These actions were anything from rocking chickens to sleep to twisting my shirts so the arms resembled a chicken’s wattle and comb and answering, “CHICKEN!” to every question asked of me… this fact also holds no true purpose other than my reminiscent joy.
My dream to be an actress started when I was about twelve or thirteen. I came up with a whole plan to become famous and “purify” the film industry (as I do). I started out in kids camps and after five years of auditioning I (finally) made it into a mainstage play. After that I was actually starting to go somewhere (cast in more plays, worked as assistant director, wrote and directed my own play) when I felt my calling elsewhere. Writing!
Believe it or not, I was not a fan of writing during most of my elementary education. I only really started to tolerate it in high school. Yes, I did write my first “book” when I was very young, but the writing was intermittent and I tired quickly.
The most significant adventure I have experienced thus far in my life was a mission trip my family took to Chile. I have two brothers, a mom, and a dad, and we traveled by boat along with the ship’s captain (fun fact: the captain built the boat himself including cutting down the trees and steaming them on the beach so he could bend them to the proper shape), the trip leader, and a military friend of my dad’s. This trip was significant because it shoved me out of my comfort zone. Yes, almost dying in a storm would have been significant if I had been awake for it. Sure, saving a man’s livelihood (hay) before the rain came and destroyed it all felt good. And I’m not saying that accidentally leaving the mainland with no food or fresh water was a leap of faith. All these things, however, haven’t left the kind of impression on me as the story I am about to tell has.
It was reported on national news that a hiker had split off from the rest of his group and gotten lost in a massive park. Search and Rescue were trying to find him but days turned into weeks and they were starting to lose hope. My family and I received this news at the beginning of our trip. The trip through the islands themselves was amazing and we were able to be the miracle in some peoples’ lives as well as giving them a point of contact for future resources. For these stories, however, I was on the sidelines. I watched and was amazed, but my direct influence was not needed other than for building relationship (the people felt more comfortable talking with families than individuals). When we returned from the islands we were a few days ahead of schedule, so our group leader decided to visit some churches he had previous relationship with. That morning we heard that the missing hiker was still missing and declared dead. All official search parties were called off… except one. The church body of the church we visited was the only group left looking for the hiker. They were also housing the mother and sister of the man while they waited for him to be found. The woman and her daughter were at the church service when we got there, and we had the opportunity to pray for them.
Right after praying for the daughter, when I had returned to my seat, I had a vision. It wasn’t filled with flashing color or strange animals. It was a vision of an island, or some other body of land near water, and a man was on that island lying on the ground. The next day and the hiker was found. He was weak but alive. They found his body lying near the only body of water within that entire, enormous park.
This story has impacted me for my whole life. Even though I did not find the man, and no one used my vision to help find him, because of this experience God confirmed to me that he talks with me. That I am a part of his plans. I have not seen another vision since then, but that’s okay. God has talked to me in different ways. Sometimes through music, sometimes a thought in my head or a strong urge within my heart. I’m so glad my parents took me on that adventure, because it has impacted the way I act and think every moment afterword. The cultural aspect has shaped the way I interact with the people around me, giving me a respect and love for culture and individuality. The spiritual aspect has built up my strength and confidence in life and my decisions, and I know I can rely on God to guide me. I’m so glad we move forward into the scary and uncertain because now my life is so full of stories and memories.
Comment below with some of your favorite memories <3