27 days.
27 freaking days.
27 days until I get to be in Portland, see my people, breathe fresh Oregon air, run in frigid Oregon rain and drink the best water in the world.
I don’t know what to say about that.
Something I have learned about myself while being on the race is that in times of processing / emotional overload, I can never seem to pinpoint what I am actually feeling. I have a hard time feeling things in the moment, because I have a habit of “turning them off” or pushing them aside for the time being.
Until BAM,
I’m hanging out in a Chile’s and every emotion hits me like a freight train all at once.
(Hypothetical, I have never been to Chile’s. However, I did cry outside of a Thai children Christmas party! Merry Christmas, here are my tears. ha ha ha……)
ANYWAYS,
my point is that I don’t really know what I am feeling in this season. Before I left for the race, “home” looked like damp sidewalks, and evergreen trees. Home was the face of my friends and family, or a muddy rugby pitch with 30+ matching muddy girls in orange. Home was dressing up for football games, driving around town until the clock hit single digits in the morning, or lazy days by the fire with a cup of coffee and a book. It was the place that I grew up, made mistakes, learned lessons and became the person that I needed to be. Home used to be a single location, a single word, a single place: Tigard.
However, things have changed.
Now, home is a straw hut, with one student, eager to learn english (or just stare at a white lady) while the Cambodian rain threatened to tear the building down. Home is Nung, our chicken guy in Thailand that was highly concerned about our fried chicken intake. Or the community of YWAM Ubon staff that washed our feet, prayed for our lives and showed me what selfless leadership looks like. Home is wherever I need to lay my head that night; whether that’s the ground of a tent, make-shift beds on overnight trains in bangkok, or the floor of the Kenya airport. Home is the seemingly endless African sky stretching over us as we played soccer in the mud with local kids. Home is the cobblestone streets of Antigua and cozy coffee shops. My home soundtrack consists of the song Making Melodies, African worship music and laughter at my attempts to speak Spanish. Home is Fierce Love, and River Wild; my teams that got to know me on a level that I never imagined possible; the beautiful ladies that laughed and cried with me through every season. Pieces of my heart that God never intended to be my own, have been left in all of the countries I’ve visited in the past 9 months. It’s a permanent and irreversible sever of myself; which was not only necessary, but painful in the good kind of way.
Y’all… as I am writing this, my heart is so so full. Full of happiness, love and joy at this insane journey that the Lord has given to me. So full that it physically hurts. Have you ever loved something or someone so much that it physically pains you? That’s how I feel in this moment.
However, if it didn’t physically pain me to think about leaving this season, then something would have been horribly wrong. I’ve learned that the only love that is worth experiencing is painful in the sweetest ways. I don’t think that Jesus went to the cross, expecting to feel no pain. No, he went through the utmost physical pain because He loves us THAT much.
That’s how much I have loved my people, places and this season.
So much so that I will take up my cross every single day to continue to feel this type of love. It will hurt, but it is worth it.
Change is hard. Letting go is hard. I fully expect to be a wreck at the airport as I say goodbye to my squad but its going to be okay. I’m going to be okay, and I’m going to honor this season, love it for all that it is worth and let the Lord prepare my heart for whatever is next.
I love you all.
See you soon!
