The World Race is a strange, strange concept.
I truly began to consider the trip in the summer of 2010, and it seemed great at the time. Service. Travel. Adventure. Growth. Hey, this sounds extreme and exciting . . . sign me up!
Unaware of life on the Race & what to do with those straps
Oh, I loved talking about it. To my friends. My family. Strangers at Starbucks. I would describe the way my life would look for 11 months, and I would soak up the reactions. When the Race was still a distant dream that I could talk about and not face, I loved it. Then the day came when I actually had to apply.
This is the point of the process when I started to get cold feet. Yes, I had spent hours reading blogs, praying and feeling confirmation from the Lord that this was part of his plan for me. However, after my phone interview and acceptance, I secretly did not want to go anymore.
Discomfort? Separation? Tents? And I am signing up for this?
It seems like I subconsciously committed before any comfort-seeking logic could kick in. I reached a point where I was in too far. I had shared my plans with too many people. The funds were coming, and there was no turning back.
Goodbye, Auburn & all things familar
Time did its usual thing in not stopping, and I boarded a plane in January. The first two months brought joy and excitement, but I was still anxiety-ridden at times. I would daily wake up and panic for a split second, not recognizing my environment. My heart yearned for home: the smells, the laughter, the warmth. I was in strange lands with strange people, and I just figured that I would feel out of place for eleven months. That was that.
Then, something magical happened. I woke up one day in Romania, and I was not in panic mode. The people around me were invested friends, not strangers. Home didn’t feel light years away, and I started to believe that the World Race would, eventually, end. I woke up with the desire to devote myself fully to the Race, knowing that this was a special season. I decided to be present and thankful daily. I decided to really do this thing (a little late, I know).
I say it was magical, but really, it was a gift from the Lord. Never did I think that I, a self-proclaimed homebody, would feel at ease as a traveling missionary. But here I am, surrounded by sisters and utterly grateful for the gifts of service and culture.
Day to day, I rarely feel like I am making a huge difference in the world. Still, a slideshow of faces and places exists in my mind that says a lot less about my effectiveness as a Racer and a lot more about the provision of the Lord.
For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Ephesians 2:10
This verse speaks to a place deep in my heart. God’s hand has been with me all along, paving the road that brought me to the Race. Ephesians 2 also tells me that I cannot boast in these works, for they are not my own doing.
He knew this little one would wander into church and then into my heart.
He planned the time spent with Freddie as I simply held her hand and listened.
He designed the tree of life mural that would be left in a Haitian kitchen.
He prepared the way for my team to serve the servants in Moldova.
In order for me to continue my journey and be fully funded, I need to raise $2,227 by July.
Please prayerfully consider donating so that I can continue to share the love of Christ among the nations. I have been given a heart to finish this race, and I cannot wait to see the rest of the works He has prepared.
