There were a lot of days on the race I dreamt of this moment. I dreamt of sitting in my comfortable home in Mobile, Alabama. I waited a year for this.
On the race, it seemed like “home” became this imaginary place, something racers thought of to make themselves feel better. Continually saying, “one day, I will be back”. Sometimes I swear it felt like we were never going back. Moving from country to country, living in village after village, hand-washing clothes, drinking thick African water, taking ice-cold bucket showers, using squatty potties and walking through the streets of little towns while everyone stares at you and takes photos of you – this felt normal. There were days I felt like that would be my life for the rest of my life. I forgot what normalcy was because this was now it.
It took 3 days, 4 flights, and 3 time zones to get home from Albania. The first 3 flights were good, I was not by myself. I slept on many airport floors which is also a normal thing for me. Laying on dirty tile floor while using my daypack as a pillow and foreign announcements are blasting on the speakers and locals watch you sleep – normal.
I remember so vividly the moment I landed In New York. I stepped off the plane, walked into the airport and immediately culture shock hit me. I felt like my brain was going to explode. For one year, I heard conversations in other languages all around me and never understood anything other than the english words my teammates were speaking to me. Now, suddenly I am hearing English from every direction and I can understand everything. I have never felt sensory overload like that before. Each time someone spoke, my head quickly turned in that direction because I thought it was a squadmate – who else would it be? But it was just an American stranger because I was now in America.
The second my plane landed in Charlotte, my heart sunk. I knew that in about 10 minutes I was going to part ways with two of my squadmates who also had to fly to Charlotte, and then I would be alone. I would get on my next flight to Mobile all by myself – something that I have not done in a year. We had to catch connecting flights, so we quickly said goodbye and that was it.. I was now completely separated from my squad – my family – who I spent every waking second over the past year with.
I walked to my gate alone and asked the Lord to give me one person to talk to. I don’t know why I craved this, but I just wanted to talk about it. I wanted to tell someone what I was going through. It gave me a sense of security having just one person I can confide in, even if that person was a stranger.
Just like the Lord always does, He answered my prayer. I got on the tiny plane to Mobile and sat next to a woman who was interested in me. She asked me questions and I told her I was finally going home. I was going home after a year of being away. I told her a little bit about the past year I experienced and she said I was brave and courageous. The way she encouraged me made me feel safe. She made it feel like it was okay to be nervous, anxious and even fearful of going home. That was what I needed – someone who made everything feel okay.
I listened to music on the way home. Music gives me a lot of comfort. I remember looking out the window and for the first time in 325 days, I saw Alabama. I saw the water, the trees, and the green grass. I took a headphone out and the flight attendant said, “welcome to Mobile, Alabama.” Thats when I started crying – a lot. I felt so many emotions in that moment. I was happy to be home, but also nervous about it. I was sad to leave my friends behind but I knew they were just a phone call away. I was excited about seeing my friends and family back home. But… I was devastated to leave the race. I dreamt of this moment, but I also dreaded it. Just like my life did a complete 180 starting the world race, it was now doing a complete 180 ending the world race. How do you handle that?
Once I got home I was in shock. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I walked around my house looking at all the postcards I sent home months ago. I looked at the huge fridge and dishwasher in my kitchen. I saw the washer and dryer. The nice, clean shower with promising hot water. My room, just the way I left it. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. I was in shock. That night, I slept in a room by myself for the first time in 325 days. You’d think I would sleep like a baby after all the traveling I did, but I actually didn’t sleep at all.
Fast forward a little bit, it’s now been 2 weeks since that first day back in America. Some days have been really hard. (don’t even get me started on driving for the first time and walking into a grocery store). I wake up and forget that I don’t sleep shoulder to shoulder with my teammates anymore. I’m not going to see them when I get my morning coffee and evening tea. There are some moments when I am perfectly fine. I am content with being home. But every so often, something triggers my brain and I get sad. I literally have to just sit there and feel it all.
I think back to all the hard times on the race. The fights, the exhaustion, the African heat, the living conditions.. the anger I felt after trying to have a simple conversation with my mom over the phone, but signal was never good. I remember the moments I felt so sick and hopeless. I remember wanting to just escape the chaos of living in a tiny room with 6 people. I think about all the times I failed. The moments I chose not to fight for a teammate. The moments I chose not to do ministry that day because I was tired and just “didn’t feel like it”. The moments I just checked out because I wasn’t in the mood to be on the world race anymore.
I also think about all the moments I will one day tell my kids. Seeing my first African safari and the feeling of being out in the wild. I think about all the times I’ve had to sing in front of a foreign congregation and how much my team and I laughed at ourselves for it. I think about my first time preaching in a little hut in India. I think about the time my preaching didn’t exactly go as planned, but my translator, who I became very close with, took my hand, looked me in the eyes and said, “you did a really great job”. I think about the feeling I got when I held a child in Africa and the way they looked at you like you were saving them. I think about the streets in Thamel, Kathmandu, Nepal I walked down and how free I felt. I think about the moment I woke up to watch the sunrise over the Himalayan mountains and how badly I wanted to say something to sum up my emotions, but there weren’t good enough words to describe that moment. I think about the time my team and I met the chief of our village in Botswana, Africa and it was something we waited all month for. I think about the first time I prayed salvation over someone in a squatter camp in South Africa. I think about all the dancing I did with kids around the world. I think about the moment I performed a skit with my team in front of 1000 people in Africa and the way I felt confident in front of such a large crowd. I think about the time I spent Christmas in Zambia and the moment I realized that presents literally do not matter at all – cherish the moments with family. I remember riding in a tap-tap in Haiti in the middle of the night and thinking “wow, i’m on the world race”. I remember riding in tuk-tuks in India and looking at the rice fields as the sun sets. I remember praying for rain and the moment it began to POUR after a 6 month drought in the Dominican Republic.
I could go on.. and on.. the point is, I remember a lot of things and I will cherish it forever. I’m trying to grieve because I know that it’s part of the process. You’re supposed to grieve when you lose something you love. But, it’s hard.
Month 12 has been a month of remembrance. I want to remember it all. I want to live in remembrance of every single memory that the Lord has given me. I want to keep them a l i v e. I want to live in remembrance of all the promises He has fulfilled. I want to live in remembrance of all the prayers He has answered, all the miracles I have seen, all the lives He has transformed, and how good He is despite all of that. He is such a good Father even if we do not see the healings, the miracles, or the answered prayers. He is good because He has given us life. He is good because He has given us His Son and the Holy Spirit to live with us. He is good because He has given us an eternal home that we will one day see. He is good because He is God, and that’s all there is to it. No argument in the world can convince me otherwise. I will live in remembrance of Him.
We were made to be loved and we were made to love the person in front of us.
Supporters: thank you. Thank you for trusting me with this opportunity. Thank you for reading my blogs. Thank you for believing in me, encouraging me, financially supporting me, and most importantly, praying for me. I truly believe that I had a few prayer warriors in America. I hope that I made you proud. I hope that I represented America and the city of Mobile, Alabama well. Thank you for making this possible.
“For I am already being poured out as I drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race. I have kept the faith.” – 2 Timothy 4:6-7
