When I began this trip 7 countries ago, I hoped to fill this blog with beautiful descriptions of our beautiful world, and tell you just how beautiful everything is.
Travel day #8 had dozens of moments that were worth such description. And you know how much I love airports, so I should have been overflowing with joy…
…right?
I wasn’t.
I would much rather fill this post by telling you how Dubai looks from the air at night, or tell you just what it’s like to watch the sun rise from a garden in Uganda, watch it set from a runway in Ethiopia, and watch it rise again over the Arabian Sea–all in one day.
But as I watched the sun set from a balcony in India that evening, I had not a single feeling of awe or beauty or adventure. My patience had run out (not that I ever had much anyway). I was overwhelmed, over-thought, just OVER IT. My team slept, and I completely broke down. How could I have lost the wonder and appreciation I always felt when arriving in a new country? What happened to all of the compassion for these places that led me to sign up in the first place?
Each of these communities that have let us into their homes, every ministry contact and translator… they all deserve the deep thought and intense curiosity of a first-time visitor. But since September 12, I have taken in so much and been able to truly process so little. A sponge can only hold so much water.
I had so many goals when the Race first started. Mostly I just wanted to learn as much as I could about every place we were going. Something in me was convinced that I’d gain enough understanding to really change the world. (I know, big surprise from someone with any sort of social science degree.) But the more I learn, the less I understand.
It’s like working on a puzzle with really tiny pieces. You get the edges finished, and you start to see how things might come together. Well, imagine that you get about that far in solving the puzzle, when someone knocks all of it off of the table and pours pieces of a completely different puzzle in front of you. Imagine that happening eleven times in a row.
That is my brain right now: seven incomplete jigsaw puzzles.
If you were to ask me now what could be done for any of the needs in any of these countries, I’d just let my head fall and smack the keyboard. I don’t know. At that moment on the balcony, I was completely emptied of my humanitarian compassion. I was at a loss in every sense of the phrase. I think people call this “burn-out”.
God didn’t let me sulk on that balcony for long. He reminded me of a few things:
It wasn’t compassion that led me to sign up for the World Race.
It wasn’t humanitarianism that made me willing to leave my family.
At the core, it isn’t knowledge that I’m seeking.
I have been emptied of all ideas, all motives, all reasons to be here, and that’s what He wants.
Now that I’m empty of all of those things, there’s room for True Love. My Papa wants me to be overflowing with it.
Love led me to sign up for the World Race.
Love made me willing to leave my family.
And it is Love that I’m seeking.
I know now that the world isn’t lights from an airplane window or stamps on a passport. It’s faces and struggles and homemade food from a woman who knows your name. Those things take Love. And God is awesome: all that He asks, He provides. He didn’t just tell me to be full of Love, He’s taking care of it himself.
We’ve met all of the staff and children at Asha Mission.
We’ve eaten food with flavor!
And in the middle of writing out all of this, noises drew us outside. We stood on the rooftop watching fireworks over Delhi from all directions. We still have no idea what called for the celebration, but it rekindled whatever was “burnt out” in me.
In the faces, and the food, and the fireworks, I found my heart again. It’s His heart. He loves India. I can love India.
-Katie
