By Irma Peña | LTVN Executive Producer
Some might say it was destiny; others may say it was hard work. And don’t get me wrong — there was hard work. Long nights, hard classes, the pressure of transcripts, GPAs and making sure every grade counted.
But if I’m honest, I think it was God.
I was in ninth grade when my college adviser first said the words that would follow me for years: These are the classes that go on your transcript. These are the ones that matter.
At 15 years old, that feels heavy. Suddenly, everything feels permanent. Every quiz, every assignment and every exam feels like a stepping stone to somewhere you can’t yet see.
I remember feeling scared, nervous and determined. I wanted to stand out, I wanted to be more than average. I wanted my name to mean something on paper.
Around that time, I signed up for a college visit. If I’m being completely honest, part of me just wanted to skip biology class. (Ms. Panting, if you ever read this, I’m sorry.)
That visit was from Baylor University.
I went with my friend Ivanna. I still remember the video they played. I remember how it made me feel. It felt like home. It felt safe. It felt like family.
I looked at Ivanna and said, “I want to go there.”
From that moment on, Baylor lived rent-free in my mind. Throughout high school, I followed the university on social media. I liked posts, I commented, I reposted, I imagined myself there before I ever knew if I would be.
Then senior year came, and I suddenly changed my mind.
Texas felt too “familiar.” Too close to what I already knew. I convinced myself I wanted something different — somewhere that didn’t remind me of home. I was set on it.
It eventually came down to two schools. My dad advised me to visit both and then decide.
So we did.
When I stepped onto Baylor’s campus, something shifted. I wasn’t looking at it as a dream anymore; it was potentially the place I’d spend the next four years.
It felt like home. It felt like the place I needed to be and the place I belonged.
As an international student from Honduras, that sense of belonging mattered more than I realized. Moving to another country is not small. It is brave and terrifying and lonely all at once.
But Baylor opened its doors — not just to me, but to many students from over 80 countries as well.
In my journey, I have met friends from Mexico, El Salvador, Costa Rica and beyond. Different stories. Different flags. Yet somehow, the same feeling: we were welcomed.
That does not happen by accident.
It happens when a university chooses to create spaces where students feel seen. It happens when faculty learn your name. When classmates invite you to sit with them. When traditions are shared instead of gatekept.
Some people will say I ended up here because I worked hard. And yes, I did. Some might say it was fate. Maybe that, too.
But I think sometimes God plants a desire in your heart long before you understand why. And sometimes the place you try to talk yourself out of is the very place you were meant to be.
For me, that place was Baylor.
And from the moment I walked onto campus as a student, it stopped being a dream.
It became home.
