It’s been six months.
I don’t remember every detail of every day.
The lessons I learned don’t go away. They settle even deeper inside the roots of my heart like moveable concrete — solid, yet breathable; unrelenting in reminding me the Truth is still Truth and that no one is going to deter me from the morals and beliefs I hold and know as my solid foundation.
The musical RENT asks the question “How do you measure a year in the life?” I’m still trying to figure it out myself — and it’s going to be something I keep trying to understand in deeper contexts the more I grow up, stopping to breathe in the simple moments of intimacy with God, capturing them like a secret only we will ever know about.
There’s a lot of feedback I received while on the race from team mates that still echo truth and being into my soul six months later. I might not talk to those people daily anymore, but their imprint on my life and the part they played in shaping who I am now still remains like sticky glue on a collage artist’s hands.
The World Race is something I deeply loved and cherished. What I did, saw, and experienced are things that will leave marks of impact on me like the tattoos on my skin. It was deeply influential in showing me how I act and react to people and step forward personally with the Lord — but being a “world-traveler” is not something I identify with anymore and will most likely never identify with again.
For a really long time, I felt removed, angry, and bitter about coming home. As if coming home were not just as grand an adventure as continuing discipleship with Adventures or doing something just as noteworthy.
Holdup, can I just call it out for what it is right now and say I had a very deep problem with comparison?
Yeah? Yeah.
Okay. Moving on.
(Note: I could literally write a different blog on that subject entirely, but it will be saved in my word doc archives for a future time).
Every day, I still feel foreign and uncomfortable in my own home, but I know it’s where I’m supposed to be. I can now say in earnest — after SO MANY car rides with tears falling down my cheeks and sitting with the Lord — that I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m really enjoying life just being Ashley and stumbling through what taking ownership of that looks like right now. I recognize and feel that yes, a deeper, vulnerable community with people my own age is lacking… But there is a reason for every season and I cannot and will not let one thing that I lack, yet desire, deter me from continuing to walk forward, stepping out in hope where my feet happen to be planted. It really is just as grand an adventure of growth and learning, the landscape just looks a little different.
This change in mindset did not happen overnight. Things like this — I’ve heard and experienced — take time.
A lot of people will tell me I carry peace with me where I go and it might look natural — BUUUUT, it’s not. I have to fight to see the puddles on concrete as something beautiful to jump into when the temperature gets high. When it drops below freezing, I have to actively stop walking to the door just to take in the silence and stillness that accompanies a snowfall before the plow comes through hours later.
But stopping in these moments and taking them in like the breathtaking view of a deep canyon or Ethiopian crater has allowed me so much freedom to begin celebrating the goodness that permeates the atmosphere right where I am.
It has allowed me space to celebrate the amazing opportunities I watch other people taking hold of while I walk forward and take hold of opportunities all my own. I have started to pray more and more for people I love in humble excitement for all the Lord has in store, imaging like the dreamer I am, how He will take them on a new voyage of becoming like he’s done for me in an entirely different fashion.
My process is different. Everyone’s is. Transitional periods are — ultimately — not a competition. Everyone moves at their own pace, speeding up and slowing down with the ebb and flow of seasonal “yes’s,” “no’s,” and “stay’s.”
But all these things are just that — seasonal — a passing in the wind, a vapor.
This too shall pass.
