After a three and a half hour drive, being lost a few times, and lunch with a rather odd waiter named mike, aaron and I finally arrived. We made it to REI; the promised land for a ‘racer-to-be.’ After reading over and over through the handbook about the things I would need and consulting past racers advice I had assembled my page-long list and was ready to shop. After wandering around like an outsider for awhile I asked a nice gentleman for some help. I explained to him what I will be doing and what kinds of things I need. He graciously helped me pick out a tent, sleeping bag, and sleeping mat. Without his guidance I probably would have just gone for my favorite color.
After the big, important items were picked out I wandered upstairs to check out some apparel, a suitable jacket and some sandals were in order. After almost two hours in the store I finally had just about everything I needed. Aaron and I proceeded to the checkout and in no time I was handed four bags of stuff. Stuff that for 11 months will travel with me and help me to function in everyday life
I walked out of the store and got into aaron’s car and it started creeping in. doubt. I had no idea what I was doing in that store and very few times in my life have I felt more out of place. I was trying on my new chacos, trying to figure the dang things out, and I began to doubt my going on the trip. Simple things get to me. I’m not really sure why. But I don’t shop at REI. I had never set foot in one until last Sunday. I shop at ann taylor; and I wear cardigans. What in the world would possess me to pack my life into 50 pounds and travel the world? Seriously, am I completely off my rocker?
I let those thoughts dictate my thinking for the next few days. I pitched my tent in my basement just to make sure I could do it on my own. I slept in for two nights, in some weird way, trying to convince myself that I can in fact, do this. But, I can’t.
Not on my own. I can’t do this thing by myself. If I pack up my backpack and set out on some self-pleasing adventure with only my own agenda in mind, I won’t make it out of the Ozarks. And I wouldn’t want to. The truth is, it’s not about me. It’s not about whether or not I am comfortable and whether or not I fit in the way I think I should. The race isn’t about me learning how to fit into some ‘world-changer’ box I imagine everyone else to be a part of. It’s not about traveling the world so I can come home with a good story to tell and pictures to show. it’s about Him. When I lose sight of that fact, I lose it. I lose my ability to see Truth.
The truth is there is a need for people to be loved and cared for and told of the Good News of Jesus Christ. It’s not about what shoes I’m wearing or what I’m leaving behind. Philippians says “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of the knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.”
