“I was warned about this” I often tell myself on the bad days. People told me the community would be the hardest part. Would test my limits. This is what I signed up for, I reasoned. And yet.
I have to admit, my severe aversion to living communally was years in the making. I lived by myself for my whole adult life and loved my independent lifestyle. I had perfectly crafted my world around me back home like my own little cocoon of comforts. It had everything I needed inside of it: my favorite foods, no need for conceding, every want and whim only a quick drive away. I had everything the world could give me- except for room to grow. But I have to admit, it felt pretty good living that way. Less compromise. Less sacrifice. More me.
I lived that way for nearly a year until my illusion shattered like fun-house mirrors. It was the day I realized that I was a selfish person, and it remains so vivid in my mind that it feels like it was yesterday. In truth it was a year and a half ago, and it was the months leading up to applying for the Race. I had just bought my brand new German Shepherd puppy and had only lasted until day two before spiraling into a self-pitying “what have I done” abyss. As obscenely adorable as Bosco was, taking care of him myself was a full time job and required around the clock attention. Contrasting against my formerly liberal lifestyle, it completely exhausted me. The novelty of owning a pet died with my freedoms. No longer could I go wherever I wanted and do whatever I pleased. My new schedule revolved around puppy-training and tedious walks around the neighborhood. Now my little cocoon had gained a member and it was feeling pretty crowded. Something had to give- and it was going to have to be me. That little puppy wasn’t going to take care of itself and I realized while sitting on my kitchen floor, my face stained with desperate tears, that I was going to have to make a major change. That change was going to have to be bigger than getting a puppy and changing my workout schedule to facilitate dog walks. It was going to have to be bigger than appearing selfless at my ministry job. Bigger like a year of mission. Bigger like the Race.
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When I signed up for the World Race hoping for opportunities to become less selfish, I imagined orphanages and church community projects. I imagined being stripped of material comforts and physical strain. What I didn’t imagine were things like diet changes, freedom restrictions, and constant maneuvering of group dynamics. I had no idea that my little assigned family would be my greatest cross, and because it is my cross, God’s greatest victory. I have started to learn through many feedback sessions of constructive criticism and painfully unproductive logistical conversations that living in a family is HARD. But worth it. Here’s what I’ve found.
I have paid close attention to what worldly wisdom fellow travelers pass along like life-secrets. Precious as unrefined gold only a tap of the hammer away from discovery, is the only piece of advice that has been constant in all of my journey.
It’s as simple as this- life isn’t worth being lived alone.
It’s meant to be shared with others, conspired about, dreamed of, with many different beating hearts. Whether spoken by my Ayahuasca-following friend, Michael, or the bright-eyed, 20 year old Californian documentary producer we met in Copa, people are more beautiful than places. They challenge your shadows and nearsighted-ness. They refuse to accept your selfish self-centered universes in which no one else can belong. They make you move, break down, dance, seek.
The universal truth I’m finding is this: good community is the luggage needed for the journey. Simple. Beautiful. Hard to find. Worth the blood, sweat, and tears. And oftentimes pretty cumbersome and heavy too.
Moving from my former team onto my third team of the Race, I can honestly say that in the past couple months, I’ve never felt so desperate to walk my road alone. Thankfully, I was never provided the escape that I so desperately craved. Because as hard as I wanted to run from my old team of crazy, fierce, women- they weren’t who I was truly afraid of in the end. The person I really wanted to run from was the me they could clearly see who I had convinced myself didn’t exist. That me wasn’t the always-polished woman that I could get away with presenting to my peers back home. But the girl they saw in me was always real. Raw. In need of mending, polishing, and change. And maybe in some small way, they needed me to offer them the same mirror they were able to offer me. Because of the ugly truth and strain, we were rubbed raw and forced to grow closer to one another. Draw closer to the truth at the heart of things.
Community is arguably a far bigger growing element of the World Race than any of the ministry contacts combined. It’s more stretching than the travel and beautiful places and cultures. It dives deep. It breaks our cocoons.
And what do we hope to find when we break the surface and sink into the depths? Probably something daunting and scary and maybe even provocative and thought provoking too. But if you’re really lucky, you’ll find something new about the heart of God in someone else and yourself. And you’ll find that all the strain created something more precious than gold. 
