Embracing my inner gypsy

I’ve often been called a nomad, a wanderer, a modern day gypsy. And it’s true. I move, settle in, and then leave again, travel somewhere new and then continue on the go. It’s been the pattern of my life from the very beginning. My first airplane ride was at six weeks old and the longest I’ve lived in any one place has been four years. The constant travel and upheaval has been instilled into my very being. After two years in one place I usually get this restless and ready feeling, a feeling that my time is almost up and something new awaits me. It doesn’t always mean that I want to or need to leave right then, but it’s this strange mental and physical sensation of knowing I’m not meant to stay there for a long period of time.

I came on this race knowing how my wandering spirit works and knowing that it would enjoy this experience. I’ve spent the past 11 months traveling to somewhere new every three or four weeks. Some people predicted that it would help cure me of my insatiable wanderlust, but it’s done the complete opposite. It’s confirmed that I love this lifestyle, this nomadic existence that God has called me to. I love traveling to new places, finding new communities to bond with, new friends to connect with, new adventures to embark on, new people to share God’s love with. Yes, sometimes it’s tiring living out of a backpack or sleeping somewhere new every few nights, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

As this trip comes to an end and my fellow racers are discussing going home, I quietly sit to the side with nothing much to say. I honestly don’t know where home is, where I belong, where I fit in best, or where I’ll end up. But I do know that I’m not in this alone, God is with me, and that’s enough for me. I’m a gypsy for life, or until God directs me otherwise. He created me with these passions and desires and I’m willing to follow Him wherever He leads me.