As the title suggests, today I wanted to write a bit about the ugly, uncomfortable side of The World Race. It’s very easy to post beautiful pictures and eloquent words that depict a wonderful, flawless, vacation-like, travel experience. Complete with a “#blessed” tag of course. And those moments certainly do happen. I’m incredibly grateful for the constant sun, palm trees, ocean, sunsets, and hammock life.*
However, I’m also just living a regular, day-in, day-out kind of life. Complete with work, grocery shopping, bug bites, disappointment, chores, sore muscles, and morning groans. This is simply reality. To be clear, I definitely don’t want this to come off as a whiny, woe-is-me, bring-on-the-pity post. But I do want to provide a full story, including the good, the bad, and the sweat stains.
Month Two ironically began with goodbyes. Our team had to say goodbye to our hosts, Marcos and José, their families, shop keepers we had bonded with, the country itself, and, most heart-wrenching, the neighborhood kids. We exchanged small gifts and big hugs, waving goodbye with glistening eyes. It was horrible. It’s in those moments when I doubt what I’m doing. When I question its effectiveness. When I wonder if I’m creating more harm than good. When I fear perpetuating the White Savior complex.
Our team joined the rest of our squad as we took a long bus ride to cross the Costa Rican-Nicaraguan border. We stayed in a hostel in the touristy town of Granada for a five-day Debrief. It was beautiful with its plazas, vegetation, and Spanish-influenced cathedrals. I should have thoroughly enjoyed my time, but instead found myself constantly frustrated. I would liken it to attempting to take in the beauty of Lake Nicaragua, but being stifled by the stench of rotting garbage littering the shoreline.
It was hard not to work. I felt antsy and useless. It was hard not to have a concrete schedule or purpose to my days. It was hard to live in the strange hybrid of tourist (cue sunburn) and missionary (cue floor-length skirt). I began to realize my irritations as an introverted thinker on a team of extroverted feelers. I made ministry a priority, but others felt team unity should be a priority. Our leaders gave talks on vulnerability, identity, feedback, prophecy, and dominion in Christ, but my heart was resistant toward self-analysis and exposure. I wanted to be free, but my definition of freedom differed from others. I wanted to be fully myself(ish).
Most of these issues burst forth from my loud mouth and snotty nose in a team meeting with our leaders. I was super emotional and embarrassed, but everyone was very supportive in listening and responding to my concerns. Afterward, our team group-hugged and expressed how thankful they were that I shared. Very gracious of them.
I left Debrief feeling somewhat lighter but still bitter about the challenge that I had voluntarily walked into. I mean, these are some daily questions I face: Are my feet tan or dirty? Is what just came out of my nose a black booger or a rock? Did I sit in a puddle of water or is that a pool of butt sweat? Is that hair in my armpits or volcanic ash? Are these clothes disgusting-unwearable or disgusting-wearable? “Careful, there are bones in the chicken. Rotate a tissue in each nostril at least once a day to rid it of dirt. And make sure your pee is not a mustard color from dehydration. Refer to the urine chart, please.” Such a lovely life I lead.
We arrived at our ministry site in Bethel, a village near Chinandega, called Vision Nicaragua. Our ministry host, Ron, is from the United States and works with a Nicaraguan staff to provide sponsorship for students, build homes for widows, and better the community in multiple ways. We have a volcano in our backyard, flush toilets and Wi-Fi. We are also oppressed by sticky heat and so much dust in the wind. Not nearly as melancholy and hauntingly beautiful as the Kansas’ song suggests. Actually quite irritating when your nostrils, throat and ears are coated with black dust.
But hey, despite all of the difficult parts of the Race, there are so many amazing parts as well. And I’m thankful for all of it, for such is life. I have no complaints. Please don’t verify that last bit with my squadmates. Love y’all!
*As a point of clarification, any time I eat a Toblerone McFlurry or feed monkeys or sled down volcanoes, it is funded by my personal savings account. All of the donations I receive are strictly used for missionary necessities like transportation, meals, lodging, stipends for ministry hosts, supplies, etc. Nothing extraneous.
