Some time during the middle of our month in Honduras, I was sitting at the kitchen table with my team as we re-hashed our favorite memories of the Race. At some point we landed on Swaziland, which happens to have been one of my favorite countries from this past year. (Read my post “Promises of Swaziland” for more on that).
We reminisced and laughed about our time at El Shaddai, swapping stories from the month, and then someone brought up one that I had completely forgotten until that moment. It shocked me – I loved Swaziland and thought that I remembered everything that had happened. Clearly I was wrong.
Someone told me that the last three months of the Race would go by the fastest, and now I can say that this is 100 percent true. Somehow I’ve been to four countries and in the blink of an eye I the amount of time left is in the single digits. Right now the main thought on my mind isn’t panic about going home, or grief over leaving my team, my squad, and the Race itself.
It’s the fear of forgetting. Since day one I’ve kept lists of people, memories, and places I encounter in each country, with the occasional food list or collection of quotes. I don’t trust my own mind to remember, which is why I’ve kept meticulous notes. But some things will slip – it’s impossible to keep track of it all.
“Please, God, I don’t want to forget.”
So I’ve taken to an interesting ritual. When I’m lying in bed either before falling asleep or after waking up in the morning, I go through a mental slideshow in my head doing my best to picture each place or person as clearly as I can.
Some of the images have already started to blur.
“Please, God, I don’t want to forget. Don’t let me forget.”
David: A homeless man I met one Saturday on Durban Beach. So many people pass him by each day, some ignoring, and some throwing disparaging looks. What they don’t see is David’s wisdom, which became apparent to me the moment a teammate and I sat with him that morning. He told us about his childhood, his previous marriage, and his current life in Durban, leaving us with this: “Once you give up the fight, it’s over. Don’t give up the fight.
Nick: One of the younger boys at El Shaddai, with an amazing smile and personality. During one of my early days in Swaziland, before I even knew his name, we sat in the chapel together, listening to Wavin’ Flag and playing “drums” on the benches. No words were exchanged – just music, laughter, and silliness. A few minutes later, he scampered off to do whatever nine year-old boys do on a Wednesday afternoon.
“Please, God, please don’t let me forget.”
Ken and Recy: The worship leaders at Cornerstone church. They’re incredibly talented musicians with a heart for teaching and discipleship. I had the chance to play keyboards and sing during our last two church services, and loved getting to collaborate with them.
Sasa: One of the first girls I remember meeting at Sending Hope International in Thailand. During our first of many worship nights with all of the girls, she was up front leading worship, singing, and dancing with overwhelming joy. She was always full of contagious energy and ready to try anything.
“I don’t want to forget. Don’t let me forget…”
Cori: The preschool teacher at Casa de Luz in Tegucigalpa. Her students are all from at-risk, low-income families, but she loves them like crazy and is committed to giving them a solid start to their education
Ed and Val: Our incredible hosts in Honduras. They run a fantastic, holistic, sustainable ministry and it was an honor to be part of it. On top of this, they intentionally invested in my team as well and shared so much wisdom with us.
“Please God, please don’t let me forget. I don’t want to forget. I can’t forget.”
Ministry is over. I touch down in the US in exactly one week. Only final debrief separates me from home. It’s been an incredible year – yes, a challenging year – but an incredible one nonetheless. The version of me who returns home will not be the same version of me who left in July.
