End of January 2010
My teammates and I are at the beach, watching a supremely cloudy sky as the storm on the edge of the horizon churns the ocean water in front of us.
I’m standing far enough away the water can’t touch me, but I’m very much on my own as everyone else walks and talks and seems to be enjoying the layover we have in Brisbane.
My heart, which wants to be light like the rest of the people around me, is sinking in my chest-
And my mind is churning just as much as the ocean.
One single thought pulls ahead of the pack – one that seems to define the next month of ministry and (in some ways) the rest of my World Race journey.
I wonder what would happen if I walked in and never came out.
Thoughts like that are hard to walk away from.
I know that.
This one scares the snot out of me, drives me further away from the water, seeking a spot where I can’t see it anymore-
Where I won’t be tempted to follow through.
Maybe where I can pull myself together enough to pretend like it never happened.
Of course I can’t.
I’m on the World Race, and barely finished with month one of ministry.
What the hell is wrong with me if I’m breaking down just a few weeks in?
What I didn’t realize back then was just how much God had to teach me.
I remember the next day as we sat waiting in the airport terminal for our flight to Darwin and I talked with my squad leaders (Mark and Kyla) on the phone about what had happened at the beach-
They spoke immeasurable amounts of truth over me, even as they asked the tough questions about what was going on and what needed to happen for me to get to a place of spiritual health.
When they asked me what I wanted to come out of it with, I told them I wanted joy.
Echoing around in my head as I spoke my desire out loud were the words of one of my favorite teachers in high school, written in my yearbook my senior year-
“Cat – you are a wise observer and quietly joyful spirit.”
I wanted that back.
I left the World Race ten months later with a much clearer picture what joy is, where it comes from, and how necessary it is to sustain me-
Not to mention being full of it (joy, not crap).
My time here at home in America since then has challenged all of the lessons I learned in that time.
There are moments of blessings so wonderful I can’t help singing praises to God.
As usually happens when one continues down the path of life, there are also moments that attempt to destroy the joy inside of me.
I’m constantly relearning what it looks like to fight for joy – especially for the joy of the Lord – and how to allow it to be everything I need the way I was able to when malaria hit me so hard in Ireland (speaking of which, this week is exactly two years since then).
Some days are more successful than others, and there are times when I want to throw in the towel and just give up.
Knowing that it is the source of my strength, though…
That’s what keeps me going.
