This may sound odd, but I hated learning to read.

As a five-year old girl, I stared at my books, or really at the words on the pages, in disgust. “I’ll never get the hang of this,” I thought.

Despite my patient teachers and parents, I just couldn’t understand the rules of the game. I can still remember thinking, “Why does “phone” begin with a “ph,” while “family” is spelled with an “f?” And, why does “their” and “there” sound the same but are spelled differently? Who made up these rules?”

Since I wasn’t learning by reading books, my parents resorted to games. I still remember the dreaded Boggle Jr. It was a catastrophe each time my parents said, “Ashley, let’s play a game. Oh, I know — let’s play Boggle Jr.”

I may not have been a genius, but I knew they were tricking me into learning. Each time I created a word such as “cat” or “frog,” they’d congratulate me. But, I withheld my smiles, letting them know I was not having fun.

Even though I struggled for quite a while, I slowly began to understand the basics of reading. One day it all clicked. I can still remember the first time I grabbed a book, snuggled on the couch and soaked in every word on the page. Reading was no longer a chore. It was enjoyable.

And, now? Well, I think it’s hard to find me without a book in my hands. Actually, my friends refuse to believe how much I hated learning to read. Instead of only tolerating reading, I actually love it. I go through withdrawals if I haven’t picked up a book in a day or graced the shelves of Barnes and Noble in more than a week.

Not only do I love reading, but also I spent four years studying to obtain a print journalism degree. I never would have guessed I’d be, as Jane Austen once said, “living by my pen.”

When I look back at my reading experience, I don’t think I ever hated reading. On the contrary, I think I actually liked it. But, I absolutely despised the process of learning. It was difficult. It was frustrating. It was painful. After the painful process, though, I gained the joy of reading.

Throughout the past couple of years, I’ve realized that blessings do usually come from our struggles, especially when learning an important lesson. Although I mention Africa quite a bit, I can’t help but refer to my experiences.

When I returned from my journey, I was devastated by what I witnessed. I couldn’t figure out how Africa Ashley fit with America Ashley. Once again, I struggled to learn my lesson. Some days I decided I didn’t care for America because we are such a wealthy nation (and pretty petty at times). On other days I didn’t want to hurt for a nation a million miles away, so I tried to forget Africa.

One day it just clicked. I am called to love and pray for everybody, no matter the county, city, state, country or continent. This lesson was well worth the pain of learning.