This evening I was going through clothes and packing some things away. As I was folding some winter clothes I realized, I won’t be wearing these this winter. There’s a lot of things I will not be doing. I won’t be doing the Waldo Waldo 5k, a race where everyone dresses up in Where’s Waldo outfits to raise money after a fire destroyed 18,000 acres of Waldo Canyon in Colorado in 2012. I won’t be putting up a Christmas tree because I will be traveling to visit loved ones, telling them farewell before our squad takes off in January. I won’t be in the states for my birthday in 2018. While I am fortunate enough to have parents that will house my things while I am gone, I won’t have things. I won’t have all the items we get so used to having on a day to day basis, like pictures, or keepsakes, or a bed.
I will be living out of a backpack for 11 months straight. I’ve done this before for 4 months and it felt like such a long time. Looking back on it now, I remember how endless that felt. When you get to the other side of something, it’s easy to recall all the good moments as the more difficult times get lost in the mental haze. Yet as I sit and contemplate the journey I am preparing to take, I think more honestly about it. 4 months seemed like a long excursion. However, that’s only a third of the time I am about to be gone for this time around. Do I think I can do it? Without a doubt. Is the weight of how difficult it will be starting to bear down on me? Definitely.
Why am I doing it? Because it’s worth it. Because I believe in the mission. Because people need us. Do others think I’m crazy for traipsing through foreign countries in the rain and sleeping on the ground with bugs crawling around me? Probably. Do I care? Not really.
What’s something you’ve chosen to do that you knew was going to be difficult but was worth the time and effort?
