Hello again friends!
You may have noticed a long blog silence corresponding with the last few weeks of the Race and my first TWO weeks home. That’s right, it’s been two whole weeks already since I landed in Dallas.
The reason there haven’t been any blog posts over this past month boils down to just one word: busy.
We were busy doing ministry (like volunteering at elementary schools, teaching English, helping with Math tutoring and music classes, learning Zumba dances, joining the Praise Band in worship, hanging out with the awesome youth group, etc.) with the Iglesia Bautista Recoleta. On our off days, we dedicated most of our time either to learning the SuperBowl halftime show or going downtown.
Then we had debrief, which was a long week to enjoy a few last lunches/dinners with current and former teams, explore the city of Valparaiso, worship as a squad, perform said SuperBowl halftime show routine, and just hang out.
And then after 11 months, 16 flights, and countless bus rides, we made it home!
Where I have been equally busy.
But that’s not what this post is about. The Race may be over, but there are still plenty of blog posts flitting about in my brain. And I could think of no better one to start with than a story that exemplifies how I’ve changed in the past year.
There are plenty of things I do different now – I read my Bible regularly, I pray more often and more deeply, I’m more positive and peaceful.
The biggest change that I see, however, is PATIENCE.
In the year before the Race, I lost my sense of patience. I was angry with job-related changes I couldn’t control, I was feeling constricted by living at home again after a year abroad, and I didn’t know how to replenish my emotional tank.
Knowing that bottling up emotions is not a good idea (but also not wanting to talk to anyone about those things), I took out all my aggression while driving.
It may surprise people who know me well, but I was that driver who called slow drivers names. I yelled at people who didn’t speed through yellow lights. I yelled at the universe for conspiring against me when I had to wait a minute at a stoplight. I once gave myself a panic attack because I was so frustrated by the traffic (after that, I gave up talking to other drivers for Lent).
I wasn’t ever an unsafe driver, but I was a very unhappy one.
Fast forward to the present. Apart from one glorious afternoon on a golf cart, I’m getting to drive again for the first time in almost a year. And while I haven’t been tested in rush hour traffic or on one of the stereotypically bad Texas highways (I’m talking about you, I-35 and LBJ), I am a totally different person behind the wheel.
I’m calm.
I wish people a nice day.
I let people cut in front of me in line.
I wait patiently at red lights.
I know that this isn’t the byproduct of too long away from my car. I know that my bad driving habits won’t be making a reappearance.
Because that patience I have? It’s supernatural. That peace I have? It’s from my Savior.
And that kind of stuff doesn’t have an expiration date.
