Nothing like starting this a trip and forgetting something. Bam! Conflict.
Every good protagonist needs conflict. If there was no conflict then there would be no hero. Conflict is an integral part of what makes us human. There is a lot to unpack in this concept, something that I am sure will continued to be fleshed out throughout the next 11 months.
Speaking of packing, that was what my conflict was about. Well that and pictures.
I am not the best preparer. As much as foresight is a gift for me, I can be extremely oblivious. Preparation and lists is not my strong suit. In fact I make lists when stressed.
Even then I still missed some things.
This provided myself with a prime opportunity to practice intentionality and persistence. I needed a new airporter, and I needed passport photos.
Both of which were on my list. I had them. However the airporter was too small, and I misplaced my passport photos somewhere from packing at 2 am to arriving in ATL.
It is odd, because randomly the idea of passport photos popped into my tired brain and a tiny crisis of faith ensued.
How could I have missed that? None the less, some of my squad and I did a quick walgreens run and everything was fine. At least physically. I had everything physically, my mental headspace however was somewhere lost over the fly-over-states.
Not that I wasn’t ready to go. But I wasn’t ready to go.
I had dreamt of this moment for so long that when the moment arrived I was kind of stuck. Dream has become reality, and fantasy must turn into action.
I did have expectations for the Race, for MY RACE, for me. And of course, in typical Caleb fashion they are things that I will never live up to. I can always extend grace to others, but extending grace to myself when I come up short of my dreams and expectations is another thing. I know I can do better, and so I am extra hard on myself.
It is something that I am working on. Failing really does a number to my ego and to my idea of self worth.Again, something I am working on.
My past is a story of curveballs, knuckleballs, and down the middle fastballs that all end up with my walking back to the bench. Literally. That was my highschool baseball batting experience.
I needed to hang up my expectations for the Race, even the unknown subconscious ones.
I tried. I laid them at the feet of Jesus. So we will see. Only time will tell. It will be a ongoing, continual process for me.
So yay! Off to Cambodia we go
