One year ago today, I was in the air, a few hours from landing in Atlanta, Georgia. I was preparing for training camp. I didn’t think I was ready. I didn’t think I was ready to leave Mexico. I didn’t think I was ready to meet all of these people I’d be going on the Race with. I didn’t think I was “spiritual” enough to do this. I was scared (and, if you ask the poor Italian man I sat next to on the plane, he’ll tell you I cried for most of it. He wouldn’t be lying.).
So, I got to the airport, with my two giant suitcases in tow and wandered around, not really sure where to go or what to do. Five months had changed a lot and I was bewildered- I said “disculpa” a few times when I bumped into someone, and “salud” to a woman who sneezed. I bet everyone was wondering who this white girl was, who for some reason thought she was Hispanic.
Then I saw three girls, waving and smiling. Somehow, thankfully, they knew my name. “Robin! Hey! Over here!”
I wasn’t lost anymore.
We drove to camp and I had ten of the toughest, and yet most spiritually alive, days of my life. I remember that we really did sleep in puddles. I remember being hungry. I remember people raising their hands to pray, praying out loud and over people, dancing and talk of demons and freedom and grace. I still remember my shocked self, “Um, I can’t do this,” I thought. “I’m a Baptist.”
And now, ten months in with one to go, I can’t believe that it’s almost been a year. At the same time, I can’t believe that only one year has passed. It feels like several. Conversations about soul ties and legalism and grace are the norm. We talk about our feelings and growth frequently and often. Shane Claiborne once said of his community something like, “We’ve never learned how to not hurt each other.” That holds true for the community I’m in, too, but we work things out, we cry together and we laugh together. We spur each other on.
I didn’t know: that I would cook with a young, harried, married mother in Romania; that I would swim in the ocean with a Muslim woman who had questions about Christianity; that I would ride a camel by a waterfall and pray over a mother, desperate to have her lost daughter back in Turkey; that I would fall in love with orphans in the Philippines and dance in church until every part of me would be sweating in Tanzania. I didn’t know that friendship and love really can transcend any cultural or language barrier we, as humans, try to put up.
One year ago, I didn’t know that this would be one of the hardest years of my life. I didn’t know I could cry so much, or love people so much, or become unable to sleep on long bus rides. I didn’t know that “teshekor” was “thank you” in Turkish, or that, when you boil it down, we’re really all the same everywhere. I didn’t know that in Month 8, I’d be throwing up in the bushes outside of the church where we were teaching English. I didn’t know I’d get sunburned on the beach, even if I put on SPF 70.
I didn’t know God would provide us with an American Christmas halfway around the world. I didn’t know that I could find a group of people who would love me for me, the good and the ugly. I didn’t know I’d be able to walk outside in an outfit I’d been wearing for 3 days, with no make-up on, and no idea what my hair looked like, and be find with it. I didn’t know that saying, “Wow! That is NICE!” could have myself- and the team- in stitches.
I didn’t know that a kind word really can turn around a day. I didn’t know I had such a problem with admitting to, or talking about, emotions that I didn’t deem “good” ones. I didn’t know I’d get to celebrate my birthday, and my niece’s birth, on the same day, while we were half a world apart. I didn’t know I’d feel comfortable speaking in front of people. I really didn’t know I’d be singing “Making Melodies’ and “I’ve Got a River of Life” in front of hundreds of kids.
I didn’t know I’d doubt God so much, or be so sure of Him.
I didn’t know.
And so, as these last 39 days begin to close, I think of all the things I still don’t know.
I think ahead, to all the things I don’t know about this next year. And I am filled with excitement, for life is a beautiful mystery, and God has given me an amazing family and community to discover it with.
But one thing I do know: God’s already there. And I’m in His hands.
