It’s been one year since I got home from the World Race.
The Race was an amazing adventure, I can honestly say I am thankful for every jam packed car ride, broken mattress pad, nasty plate of food, and evil monkey that tried to eat me. I’m thankful for the time in Haiti when all our tents got flooded and that 12 mile hike in the Dominican Republic with only one bottle of water. I’m glad that the hard moments happened because they taught me a lot about dependence and on Whom I should rest my faith. I’ve come to realize that living like Jesus strips us of entitlements and expectations and it allows us to live in a hopeful abundance.
I will never forget the month that I was asked to teach preschool in Swaziland and I said NO… like I had a choice. The last day, I dragged my feet slowly out of that class room and 17 preschool kids hugged me as I wept painful tears. I still think about my sweet babies all the time. I think about the sticky food covered fingers they would use to play with my hair or the way my shirt would always become a tissue. And I didn’t care. Those kids taught me the meaning of joy.
And I remember back to that day in China when we saw a tibetan Monk burn himself alive in the streets 30 feet from where we worked. We could hear the men fighting for his dead body, the buildings closing down around us, the soldiers marching through the streets with guns. I was desperate for Jesus.
Then there was that day when I was in nepal, in the most incredible mountainous region of the world I have ever gotten to set my feet upon. I was homesick and exhausted. I begged God for someone to take hold of my hand because I needed to know wasn’t alone. Seconds later the old lady next to me, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, grabbed my hand and for hours wouldn’t let me go.
And then there was that night in Mozambique, when I didn’t believe that God loved me. I sat on the grass, looking up at the stars, keeping warm in the embrace of my two closest friends and God gave me a vision of myself in a wedding dress. But I was His bride. Known and loved and whole. The person I am today.
Most of the year, I had my face pressed to the floor and a puddle of tears collected underneath me. Too many stories. Too many faces that I would have to love and leave. Too many feedback session where people told me to not get offended so easily. Too many hard days. Experiencing the world from a backpack, between train rides and travel days. All of it was good but it made me desperate. I couldn’t deal with daily task without Him on my side.
Now a year later, I am just as desperate and broken hearted. Maybe even more than I was then. And amongst everything, the only thing that I know to be true is that I need Him. His love encourages me to let go of all my careless pursuits and then catches me the very moment I fall. It’s the hardest love I’ve ever had. Many days I find myself still crying messy tears in a puddle, this time they are just in the corners of my room instead of different corners of the world. It’s nice to be here, in this place that feels like home. But the truth is: He is my home. My constant.
No matter what corner of the World I find myself in,
when I’m connected to God,
I always feel at Home.
By the way: I am currently finishing up my undergrad at The University of Houston. I’m studying and working my butt off to get in the highly competitive Creative Writing – poetry department. Because of all of your kind and encouraging words all year, I truly realized that writing is something I love and want to do with my life. If you guys want to follow my current blog, which I would love, you can find it HERE! Y’all are the best! Muah!
