Yes, I just stole Avicii’s lyrics. But, I love that song, and it was a foreshadowing of the Race for me, but that’s irrelevant to this post.
I never thought I’d put the following words on paper in a public forum, but I have something pretty awesome to tell you guys that can’t be said without the back story, so here we go.
When I was 18, I lost my mind. I believe in popular culture, they call it falling in love. I fell fairly fast, and super hard. As with many teenager romances, my parents weren’t elated with my choice, but I was head over heels.
And as often happens, I came to the point where I had to make a decision about the… next step.
Until this month, I forgot just how hard I thought and prayed in the last few weeks before I lost my virginity. I begged God for the strength to make the right choice. I actually tried really hard to do the right thing. But I wanted this guy to love me. I knew what I wanted and what God wanted, but in that moment in time, I cared more about what Nate wanted than either of us.
Last night, we had a prayer night. All around the church, there were stations, including one where we could write down something that needs forgiveness on a rock, and then throw it in the river. There’s a picture of my rock attached to this post (hopefully, assuming the internet doesn’t hate me). It was funny because when I wrote on my rock, I didn’t think about what to say, and I had never phrased it like that. But it’s the truth. I loved Nate more than I loved myself and more than I loved God. And that shattered me.
Growing up, I was always really good at two things. I was an amazing student and I was a stellar Catholic. And I know pride isn’t great, but I was really proud of those two things. My life was rooted in those facts, and I loved it.
I let myself fall, and it changed my whole life. And later, when Nate broke up with me, I took my anger and heartache out on God. For some reason, I decided it was His fault. Or at least that’s what I had always thought.
But God apparently brought me to Bolivia so I would finally listen. I wasn’t angry at God. I was angry at myself. I had broken my promise, and I was so scared that God was disappointed in me. That He would love me less because I didn’t listen. That He wouldn’t forgive me.
The truth is He still loved me just as much. And He forgave me the moment I asked Him to. My problem was me. I was disappointed. I loved me less. I didn’t forgive me.
I don’t know if you guys remember the story I told you about how I decided to come on the race, but let’s just say I asked God to make it clear if He wanted me to go, and He did. Still, there were quite a few times before I left where I wanted to change my mind and tell God no. In those moments, a voice in my head would say “you’ve already broken enough promises to God. You’re not gonna break this one, too.”
I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself for the choices I made. I stole something from God, from myself and from my future husband (sorry, babe).
But I have discovered two amazing things after some late nights in my dark tent on this Bolivian basketball court. The first is that God forgives me. It’s ok. The second thing is myself. I buried a part of me 6 years ago because I didn’t think I was worthy of being that girl anymore. But really, I was born to be her, I always have been her and I can’t hide from that, nor do I want to.
Last night, I asked God to tell me why I’m on the race. Obviously, I’m still not sure what He has in store for me. But I found Him at a little camp in the mountains of Bolivia. And in the process, I found myself, and I didn’t even know I was lost. I’d say that’s one hell of a start.
