It’s 1:30 AM and I’m sleeping in the middle of the jungle during a rainstorm. I figured this would be fine like any other time it has rained on the race- my tent and all of its contents would remain dry as Cheree and I drifted soundly asleep to the pitter-patter against the rainfly. But tonight I awoke to a steady drip of water on my face. “Oh no”, My mind said before the words could actually be spoken and I turned on my flashlight app to examine the damage. It turns out my “waterproof” tent really stinks at its job and my sleeping pad, blanket and floor of the tent was pretty soaked. Immediately I felt ashamed. “Why didn’t I just buy a more expensive tent? Why did I have to be cheap and go for the Amazon option when everyone else bought the ones that are actually good quality?” I threw my rainjacket over my body to absorb the water leaking into my sleeping pad, and tried to asses the situation. Should I wake up Cheree and move the tent? Do I ask my host if there is room inside thier house? Should I try to sleep and pray that the rain stops? I ended up waking up my roommate, and she was such a good sport about it and gave me some great perspective. Living in the states, this wouldn’t be a problem at all. I would be inside my comfy, very waterproof home with no worries of sleeping in a puddle or shivering to death. I would welcome the rain like an old friend, and want to keep listening to it’s sound all night. But here, the rain is welcomed bittersweetly. Yes it brings water for bathing, drinking and helps the crops but also fills the roads with more mud than you can imagine and makes transportation a lot more difficult. I’ve only been here in Gorkah for a day and I’m already so humbled by this simple lifestyle. Meals by candlelight, a clay home that holds only the necessities, with no excess. The view of the mountains in the distance and the life of a family that is set on fire with the love of Christ. So much so that they are willing to walk miles and miles to visit churches and encourage underground believers.
This morning we hiked to a near city and took a taxi the rest of the way to church and I was reminded of how I get to church every Sunday. I hop in my car and drive a short 5 minutes to the airconditioned sanctuary with nice cushioned seats, a very different story from some of the churches here. Airconditioning isn’t used very often outside of the city and the people are perfectly content to sit on the floor of a simple church building.
Now, I don’t say any of this to make you feel bad, many families have worked very hard in the states in order to provide for their families. I absolutely love my church and all of it’s accommodations. I say this only to paint the picture of what life really looks like for the majority of the world overseas. This year has been so humbling, and it’s wierd to think that in 2 weeks I will be waking up in my comfy bedroom verses a flooded tent in the middle of the jungle. But this is my reality. Soon I will be home and my race will be in the past, an incredible memory growing with each day that passes. But I truly hope from the bottom of my heart that I won’t forget these experiences. That I dont forget the lessons I have learned during this year and the believers I’ve meet all over this world who have changed my life for the better. I will hold onto thier smiling faces and laughter and keep them close to my heart always.
So yes- flooded tents, muddy toes and lack of personal space is sometimes hard to live with everyday. But the smiles, moments of joy, sunsets and community are worth it.. and I would do it all over again for the experiences, lessons and intimacy I have found on the Lord.
#worthit
