This is not my life.
I walk into the rooms of my house, look around, and realize that they are not my rooms any more. I open my fridge, rifle through the shelves, and understand that most of the food in there is not mine. Going out for coffee, singing along to a song with friends, cooking food together, hugging someone I’m going to miss – it all becomes a surreal experience because I know that this life that I lead now is going to change dramatically. I know that no matter how “normal” I try and make my life before I leave for the race that all of this, this is not my life.
I am afraid of what these changes I will mean to me, what they will mean to the relationships that I hold onto now, afraid of my ability to live up to the potential that the Father has laid out for me. I am afraid, terrified even sometimes, but I know I have to go. It’s like when my best friend and I went skydiving for our 21st birthdays. I wasn’t afraid when I woke up that morning, when we drove to the drop zone, when we got our jumpsuits on, when we were shown how to fall properly – I was so excited. I watched my best friend get nervous and anxious while I tried to calm her telling her this was going to be the most amazing experience. I wasn’t nervous when I met the man who I would be falling through the sky with, or when we got into the plane and he hooked himself onto me, I wasn’t afraid when the door of that plane opened and the sound of our speed and height filled the air around me, I watched with anticipation as the other people went out of the plane before me. It wasn’t until I realized I was next. It wasn’t until I realized that we were headed towards the door and there was no turning back. It wasn’t until I saw the landscape swirling underneath me, not until I began to realize fully what I was getting myself into that I felt afraid. But I had no choice, I had to go.
That’s how the Race is for me at this moment. Up until this point I have been totally unafraid, exhilarated by the thought of all that will happen over the next 11 months, not minding any consequences it might have on my life back home, but now that I realize I am next, that there is no turning back, that my choice in this is small and that I have to go; I am a mess inside. Like an angry sea, like a tantruming toddler, like a sobbing woman watching a good chick flick, like a brainless blob not being able to get things together.
I feel like it has just sunken in that I am jumping out of the plane that kept me safe (my life here in Abbotsford) into a great big sky I’ve never known like this before, into the Kingdom of God I’ve never known like this before. If the World Race is anything like skydiving, I know that the next 11 months are going to be full of things I never could have imagined, that my eyes will have a new perspective, that my body and spirit will experience things that change and fulfill something deep within me. And I know that I am strapped to someone who knows what they’re doing, that I am perfectly safe no matter how gripping the environment around me is. I know that when I land, when my feet are finally on the ground again, I will want more, I will want to go up again.
So God, I’m scared and overwhelmed with emotion, but I know I have to go, I know have to jump with you. Let’s do this.
