“I realize that since I have chosen an unusual path it is easier for outsiders to look at my life and come to the conclusion that it is something extraordinary. That I am courageous. That I am strong. That I am special. But I am just a plain girl from Tennessee. Broken in many ways, sinful, and inadequate. Common and simple with nothing special about me. Nothing special except I choose to say “yes.” “Yes” to the things God asks of me and “yes” to the people He places in front of me. You can too. I am just an ordinary person. An ordinary person serving an extraordinary God.” – Katie Davis, (Kisses from Katie)
The little thoughts in your mind when you’re about to go somewhere or do something new. The feelings about how that “something” is going to be. The ones that you didn’t even realize were there till you’re knee deep and find yourself confused and wondering what happened to this “something” that you had played up in your mind. But that’s the thing about expectations, good or bad, they never completely match up with reality.
I tried not to have expectations about the race, but those little thoughts were inevitably there. Thoughts that, 10 months in, I still can’t even put into words. I expected the race to be this big grand thing, so completely different from life back at home. I thought I was courageous and strong for doing this. I thought I was special, that my life would be extraordinary.
But I was wrong. The truth is, the race isn’t this big grand thing.
Does it look different than my life at home? So much.
Do I get to do some pretty cool things for the Lord? For sure.
But is it extraordinary? No, it isn’t.
It’s using a bucket to shower.
It’s wearing the same clothes 5 days in a row.
It’s waking up with more bug bites than I went to sleep with.
It’s being dehydrated because the water tastes like it came from the toilet.
It’s constantly sweating and feeling bugs crawling on me.
It’s singing and dancing with 90+ kids for 2 hours, when we don’t even speak the same language.
It’s smashing bugs with my hands and not thinking twice about it.
It’s eating some form of potatoes two meals a day, every day.
It’s kids yelling “abazungu” and running to hold our hands as we walk to church.
It’s preaching in front of 100+ Africans and dancing with them when they pull you on stage.
It’s spending every minute of every day with other humans.
That is my life now.
And it’s not extraordinary at all.
In fact, it’s become quite normal.
With just one month left on the race, I tend to think more and more about what life back at home is going to be like. I think about the things I can’t wait to do, the food I can’t wait to eat. I think about teaching again. I think about living with my family, driving my car. I think about going to my church, actually seeing my boyfriend. I think about how in just 37 days, this not-so-extraordinary life of mine is going to be over. And I’ll be going back to the life that most people consider to be “normal.”
But I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m okay with being ordinary.
No matter where I am in the world, no matter what my life looks like, I can still say “yes” to the Lord. I don’t have to be in Africa. I don’t have to be considered a “missionary.” I don’t have to live out of a backpack.
I can be the love of Jesus wherever I am and whatever I’m doing. Teaching in a public classroom in the states. Shopping at the grocery store. Attending my home church. Anywhere I go, I can be the love of Jesus.
And there is nothing extraordinary about that.
But my life doesn’t have to be extraordinary, because my God is extraordinary. He uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things every day and I’d much rather live an ordinary life for the Lord than an extraordinary life for myself.
So can you.
