My friend Katie Axelson was on World Race back in 2014. Second Generation Y Squad to be exact. Over her 11 months, she traveled to 11 Spanish speaking countries in the Latin/South America region. We connected back in November 2017 after I applied to go on the race. Since then, she has been a huge encouragement and faithful friend through the process. She offered to write a blog about her reentry, and I enjoyed reading it. I hope you do too!! I’ll be in Minnesota SEVENTEEN days from today! It honestly doesn’t feel real! Love y’all!
Coming off the World Race, everyone kept asking me what was wrong. I had no idea.
Well, I had a lot of ideas.
For the first time in eleven months, I was alone. I could go to the park without anyone joining me. I could wander around the mall without an escort. I could drive my car anywhere I wanted without even telling anyone.
I could DRIVE! I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal. It is.
I had money. I had to buy my own food and toilet paper. I could understand every conversation I heard in the store—talk about stimulation overload. Then there are so many choices! They warn Racers that the cereal aisle often triggers a breakdown.
I was a stranger stuck in my own childhood bedroom, my own church, my own body.
I was home.
But was I?
Something was different.
No one really knew what to do with that. Myself included.
That’s the thing about re-entry: there’s no set formula that works for everyone.
Everyone processes differently, and everyone changes differently. What’s helpful to one person is triggering to another.
It’s ok.
Just like there’s no set instructions on how to mourn, how to process, and how to grow… re-entry is all three combined.
I had good, trusted friends just stare at me as if looking deep into my eyes would help them know how to help me. Usually, it just made me cry and get frustrated that I couldn’t express what was going on.
My family didn’t understand why a Culver’s butterburger with cheese led to a total meltdown. After all, plenty of my orders had been messed up over the last year. What’s the big deal with one more?
Frankly, I didn’t understand either.
My squad and I passed a cartoon around to each other that was the best expression of how we were feeling. It was actually a depression cartoon.
There’s a person with depression cuddling her knees as she sits on the ground. Standing next to her is a friend who asks what’s wrong. The person with depression doesn’t know. The friend asks how she can help. Same answer. The friend makes the person with depression a blanket fort. It helps. A little. The cartoon ends with the friend also crawling into the blanket fort and the two of them sitting on the ground together.
What does it look like to build a pillow fort?
– Don’t leave just because it’s uncomfortable, hard, or you’re not sure what to do.
– Bless your Racer with… a cup of coffee, a free meal, some flowers…
– Offer to run errands for (or with) your Racer.
– Sit and listen to the endless rambling. There are stories for days!
– Sit in silence and just BE together. There are days when no stories want to be told.
– It’s ok if the water bill goes up because your Racer is taking three hot showers a day.
– Invite your Racer along in what you’re doing—even if it’s ordinary.
– Accept invitations when your Racer invites you. (Even if it seems ridiculous… Thanks, Dad, for humoring me in how we put up Christmas lights that year)
– Check in regularly. Ask engaging questions (Ashley has a great list of them).
Don’t be surprised if your pillow fort launches your Racer into a story. But also choose not to be offended if it doesn’t.
I am forever indebted to Clint Bokelman (of Adventures in Missions) who built a blanket fort for me at Project Searchlight (highly recommend) when he locked me in his office, asked engaging questions, listened to me ramble, encouraged and affirmed me, and prayed over me… lather, rinse, repeat.
The conversation was remarkable, but the action was even more so. With his words and actions, Clint said, “I care enough about you to walk with you through this.”
We laugh about that day now and how he put my head back on.
Racer, you will laugh again. Promise. You will cry again. You will feel like yourself again.
In the meantime, be ok with the unknown and the uncomfortableness of re-entry.
Try new ways to encounter God—find a church, a community, a small group. Listen to a podcast, read a book, deep-dive scripture, get outside, paint, draw, serve, rest. Try something. Then try something else.
Find another WR Alum who can help be your support (that’s one in the big city near you. Use the Alumni page to get connected).
Don’t try to go it alone.
When you’re ready (and probably even a little before that), find a job. Build a routine. Create a purpose. Not forever. But for now. That toilet paper isn’t going to buy itself.
On the World Race, you’re tossed a set of keys. It took 11 months with some awful and awesome moments, but you learned how to drive.
The temptation now is to trade your Kingdom Keys for your car keys.
Except your key ring can hold both.
