I’ve been trying to adjust my perspective in this and the previous post. It’s like looking out at the Grand Canyon with then without binoculars. I get this sense that living life here on earth, within the confines of time, is like wearing bifocals while waiting for 20/20 vision; I’m learning to live by faith until I see what I’ve believed.
Let me demystify a couple of notions that float about regarding the World Race. I’ve not been starving at all – I eat rice and other carbs as often as I did back home (maybe more so) – and as far as I know, I weigh as much as I did before I left home. And, I’ve been able to access the internet more than I had anticipated, which means that I spend as much time as people back home on Facebook.
This means I’ve been able to stay posted on y’all, at least those of you who do broadcast every detail of what’s up on Facebook. The books you’ve read and really enjoyed, the songs and music you like a lot, changes in relationships and jobs, where you’re traveling, what errands you’re running, etc. – it’s like I never left.
Well, almost.
When I look at friends’ photo albums on Facebook, I’m reminded that I’m away from home. I peruse images of birthday parties, reunions over holidays, miscellaneous get-togethers, the Mall around Inauguration Day, and see familiar and new faces and I imagine maybe my face appearing in a picture or two. A hint of sadness hits as I think about the fun being had, the delicious food being eaten. . . without me.
Thankfully, the pity party’s over before it starts ‘cause then I’m reminded of where I am, who I am with, and what I’m doing. I live on $7 a day. I spent the past five months in two continents, and I’m about to spend the next six on a subcontinent and two other continents. I’ve slept in tropical places, a desert, in/by the mountains. I wake up to a stunning sunrise and fall asleep staring at clouds backlit orange and pink, then a navy blue sky dotted with stars.
I spend time with God like it’s my job (‘cause it is, sorta). I eat food I wouldn’t find even in New York (and maybe wouldn’t want to?). Mostly, I’ve met some amazing people. It’s a small world. . . and it isn’t. I couldn’t have imagined being such good friends with a twelve year old girl from Uganda or being adopted by a 60 something year old Tanzanian man and woman.
Then there are the fifty people who are also crazy like me. I got to spend four months with six of them, 24/7. I get to spend seven months with six others of them, 24/7.
Would any of this have been possible if I stayed where I was? How would I have known that all these amazing people were out there in the world, all over the U.S. and Canada, and that some of them are more like me that some of the people I’ve known in my bubble?
I miss home, but I would’ve missed out on much more if I stayed. The pangs of homesickness are unpleasant, but I realize I’d rather that than the doubt, questions, regret, speculation, wanderlust, wistfulness, that would afflict me if I didn’t leave home.
