My teammate Courtney says I’m off by a week, but I’m declaring that today, June 16…
The World Race is half over.
We’re halfway through our six month. My journal is half full (or, if I’m being optimistic about fitting it all in one book, half empty). And, it’s my half-birthday. So here are some thoughts of a soon-to-be-seasoned World Racer:
It feels good to be halfway through the Race. Honduras and next Christmas are equally far from me. We’ve had a LOT of adventures and we’ve done a LOT of work, and there’s a LOT left to go. I’m glad to be that much closer to going home, but the frantic homesickness I felt for America back in El Salvador is gone. I’m also thankful that we still have so much time left with each other, living this crazy life of traveling with Jesus.
It would be good if I talked about the ways God’s changed me this year. They do say that people come home from the Race “different.” But I don’t know what those things are yet. I’ll need some time and distance from now to get a bigger picture. Whatever’s changing in me must still be going on.
Still, if you talked to me now you’d notice some small, obvious changes about me. I dyed my hair red and cut it myself. I eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day even though I’ve always hated peanut butter. Speaking of eating, I do it for five dollars a day (hence the PB&Js). My clothes are trashed. My toothpaste is Bulgarian. I’m not going to the dentist for my biannual cleaning. I know what earwigs look like. I have mosquito bites all over my face, of which strangers often kindly inform me or mistake for acne. I can barter. I’m a connoisseur of the junk foods of Central America, Eastern Europe, and Sub-Saharan Africa. I’m not terrible at the mandolin anymore, depending on who you ask. I can carry on prehistorically simple conversations in Spanish, Bulgarian, Albanian, Italian, Bemba, and Nyanja.
Here’s how one talk went with a stranger the other day, in Nyanja.
Me: How are you?
Stranger: Fine, and you?
Me: Fine.
Stranger: something something Nianja?
Me: Yes! No! Uh…. shoe! [point at stranger’s shoe, displaying knowledge of common household items.]
Stranger: Wow, madam! Yes, shoe!
Me: Brazier! Charcoal! Goodbye. Thank you.
Also, after 6 months living all over the world, I feel like I’ve become more American than ever. I read books set in the US. I suddenly love country music. Sometimes I sing the national anthem. I’m strangely into potato chips and Coke. Little things like that. I suppose we’re just so conspicuously outsiders that it doesn’t hurt to own it.
I feel like an outsider when we walk five minutes outside and hear constant shouts of “Muzungus (Whities)!” Or when everyone and their dog want to shake our hands.
Excursus: Family Feud and Church.
I feel the most out of place and uncomfortable in church. Though, I have to say, being a contestant on Family Feud prepared me for the experience of African church more than any training could have. On set in Atlanta, my family spent a long time practicing clapping along with the theme song so we wouldn’t look stupid on camera. And you had to clap. They made you. And if you didn’t have good enough rhythm, they just made you fake clap. But you still had to move and dance around. You had to be enthusiastic and smile or they wouldn’t put you on the show. You had to cheer and jump up and down and project. And in my family’s case, you had to do it despite feeling whiter and stiffer and more awkward than everyone around you.
This is how I feel in church here. Except you are praising the Lord, not trying to win a car. People here can clap. Not just the simple claps on the second and fourth beats that Lutherans do when they feel adventurous, either. Perfect loud harmonies are accompanied by masterful, syncopated rhythms no one teaches and everyone knows. But the awkwardness, the insecurity, the strange pressure to perform and the glaring reality that I am out of my element is there. It’s difficult but also amazing. The “well, what do I have to lose?” attitude is also there, and that’s the attitude that gets you on a game show or, in yesterday’s case, at the front of church with a sash tied around your waist. I’d assumed they preserved dancers’ modesty, but the woman who tied mine told me it “makes it easier for us to see you shake it.”
But where was I? Ah, yes. Changes. What’s changed? What have I learned the last five and a half months?
I suppose if I finished the Race today, I’d have one main thing to tell future World Racers, and people in general. You’ve heard it before, but that’s because it’s true:
Don’t worry.
Just don’t. Don’t worry about anything.
Don’t worry about packing because you’ll have what you need, buy what you want, and dump the rest. Don’t worry about food because everyone eats and that doesn’t change out here. Don’t worry about preaching because you have something valuable to say. Don’t worry about fundraising. Don’t worry about squatty potties. Don’t worry about travel days. Don’t worry about gaining weight or losing muscle. Don’t worry when there’s conflict on your team. Don’t worry when you’re not hearing God. Don’t worry when you’re bad at whatever job you’re tasked with. Don’t worry when the charter bus with all your gear has disappeared at 2 a.m. and you’re alone in the night in Albania. Don’t worry when the border people want to unpack your things for inspection. Don’t worry about ATM fees. Don’t worry when you hear weird doctrines. Don’t worry when you get lice. Don’t worry about pooping your pants (there’s something they don’t tell you in the brochures: there’s this thing called “The 10% Club,” and to be a member you have to be one of the lucky few who hasn’t had this happen). Don’t worry about mismatched clothes. Don’t worry about malaria. Don’t worry about how “spiritual” you are. Don’t worry about team changes. Don’t worry if you’re making a big enough difference. Don’t worry if you’re worrying too much. Don’t worry about what you’ll do after the Race. Don’t worry about door to door evangelism… Chelsea, this means you too.
Don’t worry, just don’t. Life’s circumstances nearly always require action but they never require anxiety.
