The Final Countdown

My clothes are faded, worn, paint splotched and stained.  My sleeping pad has acquired a slow leak, which leaves me flat on the ground after 30 minutes of sleep.  The number of pages left in my passport and journal is quickly decreasing.  My Chaco tan is out in full force and I’ve watched every movie on my hard drive at least 3 times.  All these things can only mean one thing.   It’s Month 11 on the World Race.  And with that I go into slight panic mode.

“Wait, this thing actually ends?” is the joking response that tends to come out of my mouth when asked what my post-race plans are.  As soon as the words leave my lips the revelation that this trip is almost over sets in.  If memories of month one assembling wheelchairs in Guatemala are still fresh in my mind, how can we almost be finished?

My mind is blown at the realization that I will be landing in South Carolina in 18 days.  I can’t wait to hug family and friends, order that number one combo from Chick Fil A and settle down to watch USC beat Vandy in the first game of the season.  I’ve been flipping through pictures of pre-race life and smiling at the thought of reuniting with the people I love.  The idea of reading on the beach, kayaking in the creek and just being able to drive my car gets me excited.

All these things seem great, and they will be, but going home also means leaving the people I’ve lived life with for the past year.

The people who have shown me grace when my mouth said things that didn’t deserve it.  The people who have, on many occasions, pushed me close to the point of wetting my pants from laughter.  The people who have held my hands and wrapped their arms around me when the tears wouldn’t stop falling.  The people who have challenged me to step outside of my comfort zones.  The people who have taught me what fighting for relationships means. 

Going home means leaving the men who have become the brothers I never had and the women who have each stolen a piece of my heart and taught me more about what a woman of faith looks like.  It means leaving this community of believers and stepping into the unknown.

It almost feels like I’m back at college graduation.  I’ve made it to the end, I’ve got the diploma, and I’ve learned a lot, but now what?  What comes next? 

This morning I spoke to a group of Malawian women about allowing God to be creative with their lives.  I spoke to them about Rahab and Esther and the unique circumstances that God strategically placed them in.  Halfway through my talk I realized that I was preaching to myself just as much as I was to the women who sat before me. 
Although I don’t know exactly what awaits me at home, I know that I serve a God who crafted me for a specific purpose. 

The refining process does not end with the race.  He has more for me and for each person who has stood beside me these last 11 months.  I know it’s not going to be easy.  I’m going to miss these people, I’m going to miss parts of this lifestyle and culture, but I am excited for what’s next whatever that may be…

I wrote this 18 days ago.  Now I am sitting in a terminal in LAX waiting for my flight back to South Carolina and my feelings are still the same.  I can't believe I had to say "goodbye" to B Squad a few hours ago.  I can't believe this 11 month adventure has finally come to a close.  I can't believe what God has done this past year, and I can't wait to see what He is going to do in this next season.