In this past month, I have spent:
4 hours on trains
10 hours on airplanes
37 hours on buses
50 hours in a car
(with another 18 hour bus ride at the end of this week)
I’m still living out of a backpack.
I’m still on the World Race.
…that’s a scary thought.
Basic summary: it.was.awesome.
We did everything. We saw Andrew , Amber, and Sarah B (from the squad), we drove up Rt 1, made new friends, got a tan, saw a beach full of sea lions, got lost in San Francisco, prayed for people, went to a winery, went to Las Vegas, left Las Vegas rather quickly, played disc golf, tried to find the Hollywood sign but failed, and watched the sunrise in the Grand Canyon after battling death by hypothermia the night before. I think an entire book could be written about our adventures in the two short weeks we were there.
But the point of this blog is not to make you jealous with how cool we are because, for me at least, it wasn’t all laughs, in fact, it was kind of weird.
I don’t really know how to explain what I mean by that. Going into it, I thought I was in a good place with God and in a good place in my thoughts, thinking I really hadn’t been all that rattled by reentry, but as the days passed on our trip, the less and less I was acting like myself, or rather, the more and more I was acting like an ass and, praise the Lord, I have friends who aren’t shy about telling me.
Here’s how it went:
The more I acted like a jerk –> the more I wanted to change it but couldn’t seem to –> the more frustrated I got with myself –> the more I acted like a jerk.
Add in a boat load of insecurities that blind-sided me and a personality that’s innate response is to shut down and get defensive and you get an angsty teenager sitting in your backseat, which is about as fun as hiking the Grand Canyon in your flip flops to avoid buying $80 sneakers.
I think it comes down to this: since being home, I’ve been bombarded with so much, seeing people, figuring out where I’m going to live, trying to make future plans, dealing with finances, trying to keep up with the squad, facing the potential of raising support for the rest of my life, all the great telelvision shows I’ve missed out on this past year, and for a second there, I forgot everything I learned on the Race, who I am, where my identity lies, how to trust people, that God is good and will provide, how to admit when I’m wrong, and really a second is all it takes for all of those lies and insecurities to come flooding back in.
A notorious World Race term is “walk in freedom”, which is great and is something everyone needs to do with so many struggles, but as hard as it is to walk in freedom, I think that’s the easy part. Once we’ve walked into freedom, then we have to fight to keep it, and that’s the part that really sucks, because for a lot of people, the battle lasts your whole stinkin life, but it’s crucial, and all it takes is that one second you let your guard down and you get sucker-punched.
So really this is my “lighting-the-fire-under-my-ass” blog. This is me getting out of my ridiculously comfortable lazyboy where I’ve been sitting in front of my flatscreen HD plasma TV like a content and unaware exhausted little missionary and getting my tucus in gear and fighting for all of those things I gained on the Race.
On Thursday I’ll be heading down to Atlanta, GA for about a month to hang out with Global Frontier Missions. I’m still not really sure why I’m going or what I’m going to do there, so I’ve decided to make some goals for the month:
1) Get my s— together. (Sorry if that’s crude, but clearly something’s off and desperately needs to be realigned)
2) Raise support. (“For what,” you ask? Well, that deserves a blog in and of itself, so look forward to that)
3) Find a spanish tutor who will work for baked goods. (Quizas mi futuro esposo?)
