I didn’t brush my teeth this morning for the first time on the Race.
I swore coming on the Race that if there was one area I would absolutely NOT “let my self go” in, it was in the area of dental hygiene. It doesn’t matter where in the world you are, you can always do yourself the little favor of a good flossin’ and a foamy, minty, twice-a-day teeth-brushin’.
In my defense, my mouth was surprisingly clean and morning-breath free tasting this morning, but still.
Month nine, and our third month in Africa, has hit my squad like a tidal wave. The kind of tidal wave that you see coming a second too late and decide to dig your heels in and hope for the best because it is too late to run. Home is less than three months away, and our minds, bodies, and spirits are all gasping for breath on the final lap.
Everywhere we turn, someone else is getting diagnosed or being hospitalized with malaria, typhoid, or both. Door-to-door ministry, which they are so fond of in Africa, requires a lot of faith in order to trust that it is actually making a difference. I feel like drive-by-prayer…quantity, not quality…isn’t exactly a calling of mine.
Debrief in Nairobi is over, which means there is only one more debrief…final debrief, the day nobody thought would ever come…before the blissful familiarity of that red, white, and blue.
If we thought that the novelty had worn off in month 4, we had no idea that by month 9 we would feel like we had been run over by a train. Bone-weary exhaustion seems to have set in, and it is a struggle not to let it take over when you have been immersed in nine months worth of travel, new teams, new cultures, new languages, new host families, new foods, and new ministries every month.
~Kenya~
And so, allow me a moment to be…honest. Feeling clean, groomed, attractive, motivated, passionate, and generally presentable all of the time (or even some of the time) seems to have become an overwhelming chore. As far as household chores go, if you will, I might even put it somewhere towards the top of the list with things like “clean out the garage” and “organize 20 years worth of receipts in case the IRS comes around.”
These days, I am quite proud of myself if I shower more than once a week, and I can’t seem to stop talking about my accomplishment for the rest of the day every time I wash my hair. Listen, when it is 50 degrees outside and you have to shower in a mud hut with a bucket of cloudy water under the uninvited scrutiny of a large rat, only to walk out and immediately be dirty again…well, bathing begins to seem like more of luxury than a necessity. And women in Africa don’t shave their legs at all, why should I more than twice a month?
Besides, there appears to be some sort of malicious, invisible dirt monster that is following me around. Dirt under my fingernails, in my water bottle, in my bed, all over my every belonging, and even in the food sometimes. Granted, we are living down a dirt road that is a perpetual dust cloud, but that still does not explain how I can dig the dirt out from under my fingernails, only to have it all reappear 12 seconds later.
Our dirt road.
My clothing is tolerable at best and dismal at worst by this point, and it is quite acceptable to wear the same outfit for 4 straight days. Every day I stare at the random few items I still have with increasing annoyance as I try to bring myself to care about how I look. I wore make-up and a nice dress at debrief in Nairobi for the first time in a while and hardly recognized myself.
The funny thing is, the conditions of being a missionary in a developing country don’t actually get to me very much. My general mood and ability to be joyful haven’t changed, and the Race is still keeping me laughing and craving adventure. I am not one to cry over the condition of the bathroom I am living with for a month; I am more likely to laugh that much more when things are more horrifying than tolerable. BUT. There is pretty much zero motivation to put a lot of effort into some seemingly normal life-maintenance tasks at this point.
The little girl we live with, Karen.
But aside from all of that surface-level stuff, the true battle wages within. The temptation to coast through the next two and a half months, to mentally check out and daydream about home, is HUGE. It is so easy to “let ourselves go”, both mentally and physically, when we know that clean clothes, hot showers, and real social gatherings are just around the corner.
And there is just something about home. All tangible, worldly things aside, I personally just enter a different level of physical, spiritual, and mental rest when surrounded by North Carolina pines, southern accents, and my “safe” people.
Please humor me and let me just dive into the daydreams with you for a moment. I promise after I write this I will re-surface in Tanzania and take life by the horns again.
But oh so soon, they will be stamping my passport at JFK and saying “welcome back.”
And I will hug my adorable, precious mama and funny, tender-hearted sister again and have five days to experience New York City for the first time…and at Christmas time, no less! The Roquettes, Times Square, ice skating, New York pizza, Broadway musicals, and so many other classic American things, all while sipping Starbucks seasonal coffees, wearing pretty winter clothes, and Christmas shopping with two of my favorite people.
~Pinterest~
I will touch down at Billy Graham International Airport in Charlotte, and I will stare in disbelief out the window and wonder if I am waking up from a crazy dream.
And then I will get to hug my hilarious, unconditionally supportive Dad and his kind-hearted wife Vonna, and we will sit around their family room sipping peppermint tea and eating memaw’s home made Christmas treats and they will only want me to talk about my trip as much as I want to because my dad has this great intuition with things like that.
Then I get to hug my funny, joyful big brother and his beautiful new wife, and meet the first precious child I will be an aunt to! I will get to hold the squirmy little pink person that I plan on spoiling wildly in my own arms, and finally not feel like I am missing everything that is happening in my big brother’s life.
The Aveda Institute students will really have their work cut out for them with me…hopefully I will be head lice free at that point, and they can do some sort of magic on hair that has had 11 months worth of strange climates, sketchy water, questionable shampoo, and dozens of dirty (albeit beautiful) little hands in it.
I can’t wait to scrub and buff and polish every square inch of this grimy, smelly body, all in the comfort of a hot shower in my own, cockroach-and-rat-free, indoor bathroom, finishing it all off with a warm vanilla sugar lotion and a fluffy robe.
I will slip between my bedbug-free sheets and snuggle down under my incredible down comforter, while our Boston Terrier, Sadie, squirms with never-ending excitement that I am finally home.
I will eat a hot bowl of Trader Joe’s multigrain oatmeal with almond butter and bananas on cold rainy mornings, and curl up by the fire with a mug of hot chocolate to watch Christmas movies with my sister in the evenings.
I will sit with all my best girlfriends and sip red wine and listen to what God has done in their lives in this last year, finally hearing all of the details that just never make their way into emails.
I will drive my little blue Nissan while listening to old favorite songs and wear my cream-colored pea coat and brown boots and always smell perfectly, lightly perfumed…
…and the Race will be over. No more grungy clothes and dirty water and on-the-spot sermons and horrible internet connections and weird meals and miscommunications.
But I also know that after just a few short weeks of those things, I will be craving authentic Christian community and missionary village life again. As I said before, I really am still enjoying where I am, but am fighting to stay focused. Call me cheesy, but I am trying to remind myself of one thing: the grass is greener where you water it.
God hasn’t given me any real insight into where He wants me after the Race, but God is intentional. I am pretty sure He knows that if I know what I am doing when I get home, I really will mentally check out. She who is faithful with little will be faithful with much.
My challenge to myself (and all of E squad as we power through month nine) is to be faithful to where I am right now, because I should be honored that God has entrusted me with bringing the Gospel to the Maasai tribe in Tanzania. How many times in my life will I be blessed enough to lead 5 women, all hungry for God and His Spirit, through 3 beautiful countries as we strive to live out Matthew 28? Having daily worship and Bible studies and conversations about the Lord and ministering alongside Tanzanian brothers and sisters in Christ that are incredibly committed to their faith?
And before we know it, we will be home again and the entire Race will be a colorful, emotional collection of photos, friends, and memories that only E squad will ever really understand.
So here’s to embracing 12 more weeks of bucket showers, bed bugs, team laughs, squad worship, travel days, beautiful children, incredible hosts, weird food, squatty potties, rice and beans, hilarious cultural confusion, and adventures with a bunch of rag-tag missionaries I love to the bottom of my heart.
AND…I PROMISE to brush my teeth twice a day. No excuses on this one.
E Squad
