Three months ago, I was in Seronga, Botswana. The secluded location we were stationed in for the month gave us little to do but a lot of beauty to behold of the nature surrounding us. One day my team and I went out to one of the biggest trees on our plot and sat on a blanket together. One by one we shared what our ‘perfect day on the Race’ looked like. Some dreamed up a slow, restful day of naps and books. Others described adventures and delicious perils in local cuisine. Mine was a good, old-fashioned motorcycle ride.
I elucidated that on my perfect day I’d be exploring the streets of an Asian city on a puttering motorbike. I would be wearing a flowing white tank top with jeans and combat boots. My hair would be knotted under my helmet from the wind rushing past and the radiance of pure joy would shine across my face. I’d have a goat who rode on the back as he made onlookers giggle and smile. I’d be free, and I’d be local.
In the back of my head I had a silly feeling this wasn’t just a dream of my own. I thought maybe – just maybe – the Lord had placed this in my heart. I prayed for the next two weeks that He would give me this perfect day, hoping that I’d get just the chance to try my luck and ride a motorcycle.
Three weeks ago, I arrived in Sungai Petani, Malaysia. Carrying my big lumpy pack up the staircase to what we now lovingly refer to as ‘The Clubhouse,’ I wondered if our host had a motorbike I would be able to ride. I had noticed how the streets of SP were congested with all kinds of whirring two-wheeled machines and I assumed he probably had one, too.
Turned out, he did. But I never rode it.
The first morning we woke up in SP to the sound of an air compressor drill and fallen metal tools on a concrete floor. I went downstairs and out to the front of the store complex our church was in and noticed our neighbor storefront – a moto repair shop. A spark in my heart flew across my chest and onto the sidewalk and up to the focused eyes of the shop owner, Kenn Tai, who was reaching for another wrench to unlock a front tire. I stepped over the pile of empty parts boxes and introduced myself.
Over the next few weeks I worked in the shop with Kenn. I got to know his fellow motorbike repair professional, Sing. Sing is 24 and just the sweetest – he is patient and kind, a constant smile on both good days and bad days, and a joy to laugh with. Each morning or afternoon when I came down to the shop, I’d walk up to my busy, grease-covered friends and ask, “what can I do?” Sometimes they’d give me a tire to change. Sometimes they’d just let me watch because they couldn’t explain to me in English what they were fixing. Those were the best instances; when I was left to my own imagination and deduction to figure out what was wrong, what was being replaced, and how to do it. Other times I would just sit and assist in steadying a bike or closing a bolt – just being an extra hand. I loved that shop so much, and made it my ministry to spend every free moment working and learning with my boys. We laughed for hours, ate breakfast together on Sunday, and played darts like old pals on my final night in town.
In exchange for my hands and plain company, Kenn allowed me to ride motorbikes. And not just one, though I would’ve been fully satisfied if he left me with the junker that ran out of gas when I was cruising around one day.
I rode and rode. I learned how to sit and listen and give and receive. At the end of the month I rented a scooter on Langkawi Island for mine and Maria’s adventure days, and was able to confidently explore a beautiful paradise with my best friend. I wore a white flowing tank top and jeans; and the goat on the back turned out to be more interesting than the one I imagined in Botswana. God not only answered my prayer, he went above and beyond what I thought was my ‘perfect day.’ He gave me an entire month full of joy amidst pain by giving me two Chinese men to encourage me when other things in life were hard. Who could say the love of Jesus is limited when he proves to us over and over how beautiful he is in such special and unique ways!
This next season – the last three months of my race – I have been challenged to learn more about the love of Jesus that is so beautifully unconditional. I’ve been convicted to love not of my own cup, but of His – to delve into the deepest roots of what it really means to L O V E and not expect anything in return. To give and not take. To love boldly, fully, selflessly, unafraid. I have Kenn and his crew of motor heads to thank for this exciting transition into the final chapter of my World Race and to the next season of this life-long adventure.
