The last two weeks have been surprising, uncomfortable, and astoundingly lively and lovely. I’m sorry I haven’t posted a blog, but internet and spare time have been hard to come by and I’ve been busy generating good stories to share as I’ve traveled the East Coast, meeting the people I will share next year with and reuniting with those I’ve shared past years with. I’m on a plane back to Seattle now, trying to fit it all into a reasonably-sized blog.
October 12-19 was World Race training camp. I met fellow racers and God on a campground on the border of Tennessee, Georgia, and North Carolina. As you can imagine, a week of preparation for something like the Race was a huge experience. So I’ve tried to distill it into ten lessons I'm taking with me.
1. I packed too much. I flew to Atlanta the day before training camp started and was in no hurry to get to the hotel I’d stay in for the night. I was grateful for some solitude and quiet before what I was sure would be a tumultuous and crowded week, and decided to serenely saunter to the baggage claim instead of taking the tram, where my big hiking backpack (also overpacked) would be waiting for me. I strapped on my full 28-liter daypack and began traversing the airport via the underground moving walkways.
Do not strap on a full 28 liter daypack. I heard it from other racers, and I ignored it: if you bring a large daypack, you will fill it up and it will weigh you down. It will dig into your shoulders and turn them red before you’ve left the airport. I learned quickly that I need to bring even less than I thought, because having a backpack full of stuff weighs you down and stresses you out. I'm planning to take less things in general, but especially, a smaller daypack, since that will be what I carry around every day.
2. Don’t cling to expectations. Again, something I've heard from many people about the Race that became very true very quickly.
The first night of camp, I shocked myself by making a big decision: I switched routes. My countries and squad mates have now totally changed. I’m not quite sure where all the new places are on a map. The t-shirts I had made are now inaccurate. I’m grieving the loss of my old plan but rejoicing that my effectiveness and satisfaction has nothing to do with where I am. It’s about being with Jesus, and Jesus is everywhere. Read the story of my upended World Race plans in my next blog.
3. I love my tent, but my squad mates love me. On Sunday my squad packed up our gear and put it all on two tarps. Then one of the tarps was made off-limits: the “airline” had lost our luggage, and for 24 hours, half of us had only what we were wearing. With that news, I promptly introduced myself to Heidi, who was pulling a tent and sleeping bag from her pack. Next thing I knew, Heidi and I were using our best spacial reasoning to fit the two of us into her mummy sleeping bag, and I was marveling at her generosity. Heidi gave me warm socks and pants and made me comfortable at the cost of enduring a cramped, restless night in her tent. And the next night, as I lay in my reclaimed tent, I thanked God for the luxury of my own space and for the kindness of my new family. Baggage or not, he takes care of us.
4. God heals thoroughly and weirdly. This is only the opening paragraph of what will be the subject of many journal entries and blogs. I believe my God can do, is willing to do, and does do wonderful things for his children, including healing, whether it’s your broken heart or your broken leg, and I’ve heard stories of such miracles many times from people I know and trust. When you turn your attention to God, you start to hear his voice telling you things you didn’t catch before, things you’d never ever dare hope, or even deem possible. Things like, I want to take away your chronic pain. Or, I want to open your old scabbed over emotional wounds to redeem the pain and bring true healing.
But I don’t know if I’ve ever been in a place before where the restoration that the Holy Spirit is capable of was so celebrated and sought after. Until this week.
At camp, I heard more stories than I can remember, told by surprised and tearful racers, of how they woke up without back pain for the first time in years, or how they were able to let go of an old grudge, or how their surgery complications disappeared. People in my squad, people on my 6-person team, are experiencing healing, and I’ve never seen it this up-close before. I know this phenomenon can mess with people’s theologies, and I know it’s frustrating when we don’t see healing even though we ask for it… there is a lot of baggage around this issue. For now, make a note that this is what I saw, and I have a feeling it’s only the beginning. Stay tuned.
5. Oh golly, ugali! Some blog told me that at training camp, I would have the experience of “learning to live with less.” I thought that meant sleeping in a tent. Actually, what it meant was, “They don’t feed you enough. Plus also, no coffee.”
For the first several days of camp, a table of eight would be presented with a plate of food that could feed perhaps two people. We had enough food to stop our stomachs from hurting, but not enough to be satisfied.
But you know what? That week taught me to eat well. Wanna know how? Here’s how: when someone cooks for you, enjoy it. Even if it’s not your favorite. Savor the food. Share the food. Maybe lick the plate and dig crumbs out of the cracks in the table. Silverware isn’t necessary. Don’t hoard granola bars. It’s okay to not be full at every meal.
Whether we were eating ugali, a bland, starchy maize porridge (“You will love ugali,” our cook sardonically declared), or hard boiled eggs and cold french fries, the fact that we had so little control over our food made me see it all as a gift instead of a right. For so many people, this is an unmet need.
6. Don’t eat more in one day than you have all week. On Thursday we were put into teams and instructed to “make a memory.” My team, henceforth known as Team Crisco (I’ll explain later), has 6 people including me, and these are the people I’ll see the most of next year, because we’ll live and work together. To celebrate the start of our little family, Michelle, Tony, Robyn, David, Kori, and I went out for pizza. We got two large pies and did a number on the soda fountain. Then we went to Piggly Wiggly and got Klondike bars. Then we went to a gas station and got coffee.
We chose poorly. When you’re eating a handful of carbs a day for a week, you may jump at the chance to eat a big meal. But trust me, your stomach is really in no shape to handle that kind of onslaught. It was a very sluggish Team Crisco that returned the campground. Sluggish, but bonded.
7. Don’t be a dirty idiot. This was one of the pieces of wisdom offered by an alum of the Race. She said that even though we have backpacks and will take lots of showers with buckets, we should try to not be covered with grime. This is not what Paul meant by us being "fragrant offerings" to God (Ephesians 5:1-2).
8. I'm not allowed to blog about poop. Another exhortation from an alum. This has already become a hot topic among us Racers, but they told us not everyone appreciates hearing about our digestion issues. So, rest assured. I’ll stick to describing the new foods I eat, and not what becomes of them.
9. Reindeer bells are conducive to leading worship. We spent hours every day worshipping together. The worship team delighted me. They had written some original songs. Everyone took turns singing. It was a raucous, resourceful, fun, sincere band of people facilitating our time with God. There were guitarists, a violin, viola, flute, dancer, djembe, box drum, tambourine, wall (as in, one guy drummed on it), and yes, reindeer bells. One of the leaders had made his own anklets with bells so he could dance and make noise at the same time. Occasionally a bell would pop off and roll around the stage.
I love worshipping, and it was great to be led by such a group. It also made me realize that I should bring an instrument with me on the field. I play the piano, but I’m pretty bad at everything else I’ve tried to teach myself. But now I don't think I want to let that stop me from bringing something to play and lead with should the opportunity arise.
10. “I straight up watched a fellowship get born.” That’s what I scrawled in my journal. To put it more neatly, I witnessed the birth of a fellowship.
I can’t tell you how much this means to me. At Vassar, the community of Jesus followers I lived in changed my life, and it is incredibly painful to be separated from my college friends now. But, to paraphrase St. Clement of Alexandria, Jesus turns all our sunsets into dawns, and my fellow Racers and I have been blessed to witness something extraordinary: a real, vibrant, ragtag family of friends coming together for the first time. How marvelous!
