8 weeks. That’s it, only 57 days until I come home. It’s funny to think of the 100th day of the race, which we celebrated in India. India really feels like a dream, but so does Africa, and even Nepal sometimes.
I was watching Slumdog Millionaire, and I had to stop, because I was feeling anxiety from all the culture flashbacks I was having. Slums filled with displaced people, trash everywhere, and religious injustices are still happening, even though I’m not there anymore. It’s hard to acknowledge that. Just because my situation has “improved” (by American standards) doesn’t mean theirs has. Guatemala has so many familiar comforts because we are on the same continent as our home, but life goes on as we left it in the countries we have visited. In Swaziland, Dakona is probably still cooking Feed My Starving Children packs for the kids at the care-point. In Lesotho, Peter and Sylvia are still pastors, leading CRU small groups at their house, and all the university students are working on final exams. In India, our cook’s daughter is still trapped in domestic violence, and churches still face persecution. In Nepal, the thick city smog is clinging to the darkness of Hinduism, and oppression of women continues.
8 weeks. That’s it.
I’m in this amazingly beautiful country, surrounded by my best friends and active volcanoes, and we get to teach English for ministry. Teaching is what I thought I wanted to do long term, it’s something I find incredibly valuable and fun. There is nothing to complain about. I wake up everyday at 6 and run as the sun rises over the mountains, sugar cane farm to my left, volcano to my right. I truly do love my life, and that’s why I am scared. I’m scared to leave my community. Someone had the realization that at home, you have to text/call people to hang out. Meanwhile, on the World Race, you can’t escape people. The other day I really wanted to be alone, but our base is crawling with people, so I put in my headphones and walked laps around the compound to distance myself from the ultimate frisbee, movie watching, skateboarding, and various other group activities.
Talking about home elicits this fear in everyone. Fear of loneliness, fear of comfort, fear of distance from God, the list goes on. We have talked about home like it’s a novelty, and now that it’s so close we almost can’t talk about it at all. I really wish I had something more profound to blog about, but this is what’s really on my mind everyday. The Lord did give me an amazing revelation a few nights ago before bed, and I thought “I should write this down” but once you zip yourself into your sleeping bag, it’s too late. I’m sure that He’ll remind me of it, all I remember is that it was a good one. So my advice to you, when God speaks, unzip your sleeping bag and write it down. Put it into action, you won’t regret it.
