I was accepted for the World Race Tuesday, May 9, 2017. I remember waking up that morning after pouring my heart out to God the previous night about wanting the race so badly. I woke up overwhelmed by peace. I knew that regardless of the decision, I would be okay because God never planned to let me live without purpose and He would open one door if another one closed. I was at work and kept checking my phone because I knew that the phone call could come at any moment. I had been doing that for 2 weeks and I was so full of anticipation that I thought I was going to explode. The phone finally rang just before I went to lunch. I stepped onto the back patio of the apartment office and as I was overlooking the lake, Courtney told me that I was going on the World Race.
From that moment, I didn’t stop researching camping and backpacking gear, stalking blogs of alumni racers, posting about fundraising, texting my friends and family to explain what exactly I was doing, and going over every “what if” scenario I could imagine in my head. Between May and October when I met my squad at training camp, I romanticized the race and felt like nothing could ever possibly go wrong. This was going to be my year to frolic the globe with God in song and dance. I would most likely adopt a child in each country and possibly find my very own unicorn.
After training camp, my perspective changed. We were put through the emotional wringer and asked to step up to the plate with God and face a lot of our past. We processed pain, forgiveness, shame. We came into our first glimpse of the community we would journey with this year. We froze half to death. We laughed, we cried, we ate with our hands. I came home with a 10 week deadline to launch in front of me. I wanted to sprint at it head on, but thankfully I had the good sense to walk and enjoy my time at home.
Fast forward to the end of month 1 on the race. This is not at all what I expected, but it is everything I signed up for. I left America 28 days ago, but it may as well have been a year. Time has hit the brakes and simultaneously been thrust into fast forward. As I reflect on the last 4 weeks, I can’t believe we are leaving our first country in 2 days, and I also can’t believe how much we have accomplished here.
Our ministry this month wasn’t exactly what we thought it was going to be. I sat in the halls of our hotel in Atlanta excitedly telling everyone about the music ministry we were expecting. It was going to be the song and dance I imagined at the start and I couldn’t possibly be more elated. We were greeted in our first village with a full on dance party and blaring music – off to a good start. From that moment, the unexpected took the reins and we experienced authentic West African culture for a full month.
God has begun to walk me through some hard things in the last month, and while I have grown, there is still so much work to be done. There is this book called Emotionally Healthy Spirituality by Peter Scazzero. In it, he talks about hitting a wall and how to journey through that wall. I genuinely came into the race thinking I only had 1 wall to conquer. As I sit here writing this, I’m laughing silently at myself because that is so typical of me and also so completely wrong. I think this month has been about breaking down some walls to highlight all the walls that are right behind them. The Lord has me digging DEEP into myself and is pulling out so much that I didn’t know was there or refused to acknowledge.
My team has been amazing in walking alongside me in this journey. One of the lifelong patterns I’m trying to walk out of is unhealthy communication, and they have been serious troopers. Right now, I’m in the “awkward conversational transitions” phase. Example: “I know we were just talking about orange Fanta, but I just wanted to let you guys know about (fill in the blank) that is going on with me. Okay thanks, bye.” It has truly been peachy. Like I said, Team Haven is great.
This month has been filled to the brim with emotion. Together we have laughed to the point of giving ourselves diarrhea (no really, it happened), experienced the joys of both typhoid and malaria, participated in African church twerk circles (that really is a legitimate thing), sang made up songs about literally everything, embraced our sassy alter egos, braved SO many bugs and critters, picked dirt boogers out of our noses together, consistently spoke Spanish to French speakers, quoted Harry Potter and/or Hamilton on the daily, chowed down on snacks that tasted reminiscent of diesel fuel, tried to catch plantain chips in our mouths while doing sit ups, learned to wash clothes by hand, cooked over charcoal, built helicopters out of leaves and sticks, held every baby that didn’t cry because we were white, chanted about orange Fanta, shattered a porcelain sink and broke the water line while naked, potentially saw demons cast out (it was lost in translation), witnessed a funeral procession of “devil people” as phrased by our host, saw something I can only describe as African big bird that literally terrified us all, worshiped in foreign languages, ate more bread than we have in an entire lifetime, shook at least half a millions hands, got petted by children to see if we were really white or if we were covered with powder, got kicked in the face by a soccer ball, consumed entire fish heads (eyeballs intact), twerked for money, stirred our coffee with our journal pens because spoons don’t exist, shared one baby wipe between 3 faces and 2 armpits, used hand sanitizer on our feet, and spent a fortune collectively on snacks.
The World Race is the furthest thing from what I expected, but it is everything I never knew I needed. I am so excited to share the full journey with you all, and from the bottom of my heart…
THANK YOU TO ALL MY SUPPORTERS!!!
This experience is priceless, but it wouldn’t be possible without the sacrifices and offerings you have each made to get me here.
