I kept waking up last night.
It wasn’t anything new. It was only what seemed to be the 100th overnight bus ride that I’ve had over the last 11 months. I was sitting beside Jodi, in front of Robin and Holland. I had a window seat and the small, gray travel pillow that I’ve carried since I left home.
I kept trying to adjust myself, only to end up in the original position I was first in. One leg going out as far as it could, the other leg under me even though it was numb, my head resting on the dirty pillow that was against the window.
I sat there annoyed with the entire situation. Annoyed with the loud Twilight, Thai-dubbed movie, annoyed with the guy sitting in front of me, who of course had his seat leaning all the way back. Annoyed that I couldn’t sleep.
We rolled into Bangkok at 5:30 a.m. At 5:45 a.m. I asked Jodi “WHY are they talking so much at 5:45 a.m.?!” about two of my teammates who were laughing about something.
We got to the bus station and our ride wasn’t there.
I called our contact and she said they were at a bus station an hour away. Miscommunication. UGH!!
We got to the base we are staying for the night and the only bed left was a top bunk. AGAIN?!
I slept for a while then decided to shower. But had to clean up the drain. There was a lot of hair in it. SICK.
And that was just today.
My race was filled with these moments. Moments of me having a bad attitude, of complaining, of not getting over myself and my selfish desires, of not honoring those in authority.
On this blog I rarely, if ever, talked about these moments. The moments when I felt hopeless, or doubted, or was easy to anger.
But I wouldn’t be being honest if I didn’t share those moments.
I never shared about the time I yelled at my teammates in Turkey, or about the things written in my journal in anger about them. I never shared about the time I said I preferred a bean and cheese taco combo over walking out my faith in Kenya. And I never wrote anything about the time I said that I couldn’t possibly care less about praying for healing in Africa because my friend at home needed it more than them because she matters to me and they don’t.
I couldn’t possibly have written about all of the faces I made at people behind their backs or to their face because they were annoying me or I didn’t agree with what they said. Or the sarcastic comments I’d make that were just plain hurtful. I haven’t talked about the times I refused to give in to someone because of pride. Or when I ignored an issue that needed to be brought up because I didn’t believe in my teammates enough. I didn’t talk about the favoritism I showed on numerous occasions to the people I’d naturally be friends with in “real life.”
I never said anything about the time I argued with my leaders over silly things only because they weren’t doing things the way I wanted them to. I also never said anything about the time in the Philippines when I said that I hadn’t changed at all and that I felt that the comforts I used in the past would at least make me feel good for a little while, while a bible verse didn’t do anything. I didn’t say anything about the times I questioned God about the decision he made to change my team in month three, and how I questioned it again almost every time I saw my old team together.
And this last month I never talked about the resentment I started to feel when what I thought would be a fun, laid back month turned into a traumatizing month for half of my teammates and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t talk about the doubts I had the first time I met with the team I was leading and they had questions I didn’t know the answers to. Or the fears I had of looking dumb in front of them. Or the times I compared myself to Emily, the leader of the other team we were working with, and the fears that people would like her better. Or the times I got angry with her for miscommunication that she probably had no control over.
No, I didn’t write about any of those things. They’re embarrassing.
But they’re what make my World Race experience beautiful.
That despite all of these things, God, the maker of everything that is good in the world, still chose me to go country to country and tell of his love.
And for that I am grateful.
