Our Second Summer Arts Immersion Program—Reflections 

 

Earlier in the year, when the idea of planning a day trip to Washington first boarded my mind, I had no idea how it was all going to unfold. Looking back now, I can only say two words…

 

But God.

 

My grandmother often said, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” As I reflect, I understand now that where there is faith, God makes a way.

 

Throughout this entire journey, I found myself repeating one Scripture over and over again—sometimes quietly in my mind and sometimes saying it aloud.

 

“For God has not given me the spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” —2 Timothy 1:7

 

This verse carried me then and continues to carry me through moments of uncertainty, more now than I can count.

 

This year’s program would prove to be a much greater undertaking than last year’s—nearly three times the expense. There were moments when I wondered how I would get there, how every bill would be paid, and how every detail would come together. Yet every time I doubted myself, God whispered a gentle reminder. A door opened. A donation arrived. A sponsor said yes. Someone shared. Little by little, what once seemed impossible slowly became possible.

 

From the crumpled ten-dollar bill someone pressed into the center of my palm at a street fair under my tent this spring.

 

A one-hundred-dollar check mailed from someone my grandmother adored, in a small, sun-drenched town in Alabama. A Twenty-dollar Zelle notification while I stood in line at the supermarket. A gift card.

 

Every dollar.

Every cent.

Every act of generosity mattered. 

 

Together, they helped turn a sea of green from a vision into a reality.

 

Departure Morning

 

On the morning of the trip, I woke up a little tired. Maybe it was from the night before. Maybe it was simply the weight of months of planning finally catching up with me. I intentionally fell asleep listening to a gospel song I had just learned; It’s Gonna Get Better by Hezekiah Walker.

 

The hours seemed to move through the night with haste, so much so that I don’t remember falling asleep. I was reminded that sleep had come only when the light of day crept through my blinds and the sun kissed my face. I woke before the alarm, reached for my phone, and decided to play the same song from the night before in hopes of energizing myself for the day ahead. For forty-five minutes, I played It’s Gonna Get Better on repeat while getting dressed, sometimes singing loudly to my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

 

Sometimes you have to encourage yourself.

 

As I looked into that mirror, I realized I no longer saw fear staring back at me. I saw the face of faith. In the middle of belting out the chorus, I had an overwhelming thought.

 

This is really happening.

 

By the time I reached my car, loaded everything, and pulled away, wouldn’t you know it? The very same song I had been singing just moments earlier in front of my bathroom mirror was now playing on my car radio.

 

I smiled.

I laughed.

I sang even louder.

I clapped my hands all the way from the Bronx to New Rochelle.

 

Did I need another sign?

Would the day indeed get better?

 

As I approached the pickup area, I realized I was a little later than I had planned, but I wasn’t worried because I had intentionally built extra time into the schedule. Just as I had hoped, my travelers had arrived only a few moments before me.

 

Soon after, the breakfast caterer pulled in. The timing could not have been more perfect. It was an old friend of mine, Depot Dave, I was thankful I had held onto his contact information for so long. I always knew we’d work together someday… 

 

Me and my imagination...

 

Serving a catered breakfast had always been part of my faith-filled wish list so that everyone could begin the day with a full stomach before the journey to Washington and the National Museum of African American History and Culture (NMAAHC). And just as I had envisioned, breakfast showed up—every option labeled and individually bagged.

 

The children were already buzzing with excitement. Some had never been to Washington. Some had never traveled beyond their own neighborhoods. This time, unlike last year, I also saw familiar faces. That made me smile. Some of the children had grown a few inches taller. Others carried themselves with more confidence. They were no longer simply participants from last year’s trip. They had become returning explorers.

 

The sight filled me with gratitude. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to be fully present and recognize how far God had brought me. As I walked through the check-in area, I found myself searching for familiar faces while meeting new ones. Everyone seemed genuinely excited simply to experience something different from their everyday lives.

 

This…

 

This was the vision.

This was why God had placed this project in my mind.

This was His intention all along.

I was becoming The Girl God Imagined, and I was working on His behalf.

Shortly after breakfast was delivered, everyone received their green Cealle Creative T-shirts.

 

Before long, our coach bus arrived.

 

After a little straightening up—and yes, a generous amount of Clorox wipes on the seats and in the bathroom—we were finally ready to roll. The excitement aboard that bus was contagious.

 

Children laughing.

Talking over one another.

Sharing snacks.

Making new friends.

 

It was the perfect picture of joy, innocence, and carefree excitement.

 

My plan was to fall asleep once we were on the road. However, that part is not included in my testimony. I couldn’t sleep. I was too aware of the responsibility resting on my shoulders. Thirty-one children had left the comfort of their parents that morning, and thirty-one families had entrusted me with the people they loved most. My mind stayed alert for the entire ride. If anything happened, I had to be ready. Thankfully, we arrived safely and right on schedule.

 

We’ve Arrived!

 

As we entered the (NMAAHC), we flowed in like a sea of green moving as one, unchained, fearless, and free. I smiled from ear to ear. Choosing those bright green shirts had been the right decision after all. You couldn’t miss us.

 

We represented unity.

We represented purpose.

We represented Cealle Creative.

 

And for just a moment, I didn’t just see children. I saw a community moving together in one direction, united by one purpose. I saw generations connected by those on whose shoulders we all stand. We began our journey on the museum’s lower level, the most emotionally intense section of the museum. It is rich with history, powerful imagery, and stories that demand both time and reflection.

 

About thirty minutes into our visit, one little boy walked up to me with the biggest round brown eyes, long eyelashes, and tiny eyeglasses. Looking up at me from about hip height, he asked, “Miss Tanya… Miss Tanya… how much longer are we going to be here? I feel like we’ve been here forever.”

 

I couldn’t help but chuckle. That tickled me.

 

I replied,

“Hun, we’ve only just gotten here.”

Children truly have the funniest sense of time.

 

Level by level, we climbed through history. Curious minds. Searching eyes.

 

Each floor revealed another chapter—stories many of the children had only seen in documentaries or read about in books. Now they were standing inside those stories. They weren’t simply learning history. They were finding themselves within it, looking at their own reflections through the eyes of those who came before them.

 

Three hours later, it was time to reload the bus and head to lunch.

 

Lunch

 

By lunchtime, the energy shifted once again. The buffet seemed endless.

 

Fried chicken.

Macaroni and cheese.

Favorite after favorite.

 

I watched the children move from station to station as though I were watching a tennis match.

 

Dessert.

Gummy bears.

Vanilla ice cream.

Brownies.

Chocolate-covered strawberries.

Cotton candy.

 

Their eyes bounced from one treat to another. Pure joy.

 

One of the most touching moments of the afternoon happened as I walked through the restaurant, observing how God had positioned me to serve. A parent stopped me near the buffet, where children wearing Cealle Creative green shirts filled every corner of the room. With tears beginning to form in her eyes, she thanked me. She quietly shared that she never imagined taking a trip like this on her own and thanked me for creating the opportunity for her family. My heart immediately filled.

 

In that moment, I realized this wasn’t only changing the children.

It was creating memories for entire families.

It was opening doors for parents, too.

 

I had spent months worrying about budgets, buses, reservations, schedules, and fundraising. She reminded me why none of those things mattered as much as the experience itself.

 

Why It Was Worth It

 

One moment will stay with me forever. On the ride home, I asked one of the children if they had enjoyed themselves. Without hesitation, he smiled, leaned in, and simply said.

 

“I loved it.”

 

Three simple words.

 

Yet those words reminded me why every fundraiser, every sponsorship request, every obstacle, every late night, every prayer, and every sacrifice mattered. As reflect on this journey, I’m reminded that faith often asks us to take a leap without knowing, but instead trust in the becoming.

 

This year’s Summer Youth Arts Immersion Program stretched me financially, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. But it also reminded me that when purpose becomes greater than fear, incredible things happen.

 

To every donor.

Every volunteer.

Every sponsor.

Every parent.

Every leader.

Every friend.

 

Thank you.

 

You helped create more than a trip.

You helped create memories.

You helped create exposure.

You helped create possibility board a bus.

 

My only wish is that I had taken more intentional moments throughout the day to pause and fully understand what God had allowed me to do.

 

Sometimes simply believing in yourself—or carrying yourself with hope before your circumstances change—can make people uncomfortable. Sometimes the resistance comes from strangers. Sometimes it comes from family or friends.

 

Today, I understand that every lesson, every setback, every victory, and every disappointment prepared me for this moment. But God never asked me to seek approval. He asked me to remain faithful. God never wasted a single experience.

 

God never wasted a single experience.

He was shaping me for purpose.

I am here on purpose.

With purpose.

For a purpose.

 

I know that trusting the process while walking through the unknown can bring fear. Most days, I still experience it. I still question myself. I still wonder how God is going to work everything out.

 

But at some point, we are left with a choice.

We can surrender to fear…

or surrender to faith.

 

Faith is not pretending to know the outcome. Faith is choosing to trust the One who does. Giving up is not an option once you have sat still long enough to hear God’s voice. And once you have heard His voice, it becomes impossible to pretend that you didn’t.

 

If just one child’s life has been brightened…

If just one child’s thinking has expanded…

If just one dream was born because of this opportunity…

 

Then I know I heard God’s voice.

 

My prayer is that whoever reads this month’s reflection will be encouraged to trust God’s timing, embrace His purpose for their life, and allow faith to become the bridge between where they are today and where God is calling them to be.

 

What will you place renewed faith in?

 

With love
Cealle