Monday morning marks the end of debrief. My alarm rings and I roll out of bed, rather, I strategically wiggle my way out from under the covers while trying not to wake either Luke (who is asleep to my right) or Parker (grumbling incoherently to my left) and tight rope walk down the length of our bed. Graceful as any teenager at six in the morning I hop off the end, stumble, and nearly crash head first into the stack laptops charging on the desk.
I jolt my body to the side, narrowly missing the edge of the thick wood desk, and instead slam into the wall. And so another day on the Race begins. Gradually my other two room mates wake and actually “roll” out of bed. The three of us pack in groggy silence and together descend the flight of stairs to the lobby where our bagged breakfast awaits.
Two pieces of bread, two Cambodian bananas (collectively they amount roughly to one banana in the States) and a container of yogurt. These provisions last us until we find our seats on the bus back to Battambang, where my team is joined by two of the women’s teams. The three other teams in our squad will be spread across Cambodia for the remainder of our time here.
Brendan, our fearless logistics leader, does a quick head count and motions to the driver who nods firmly, pulls the E-brake and veers madly into the left lane of traffic, cutting off approximately four motos in the process. We all quickly settle in for our three hour drive back (home?) and the bus is filled with all the noise you would expect from thirty adolescents on a bus together. Music from a bluetooth speaker fills the rear of the bus while the racers in front belt out the lyrics of a completely different song.
This typical chaos lasts for a half hour before everyone passes out from the exhaustion of a week of rest. After that I remember waking up in my bed back at base, the memories of finding my bag amongst the heap and carrying it upstairs only a fading blur. I descend and enjoy dinner with only half of the usual faces huddled around the table.
Not much conversation fills our table tonight. We’re all tired, anxious to eat and get back to the comfort of our air mattress. Pitiful attempts at small talk gradually fill the room as we wait for 8:30, the first moment it is socially acceptable to head off to bed. I have no shame in saying I was showered and on my mattress at 8:25 that night. As I laid my head down on my collapsable backpacking pillow that night it hit me. The triumphs; finding intimacy with God, adventure, team building, community worship nights and the failures; loneliness, hurting team mates, homesickness, actual sickness… all of it… condensed into a single month. A single month out of nine.
They say that after the first month life on the race begins to feel like… life. The honeymoon phase wears off and you are left grappling with the impossibility of eight more months on the field. Eight more months of hard, rewarding, sometimes painful, but always worth it, everyday life. I began to work out some stunning revelation about how I will chose to accept the challenge and find God’s beau- and then I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up with a headache, sore throat and fever. Two days later my body is still waging a violent war against itself, but I will say that of the sickness’ making their way through our squad, this one isn’t bad. No stomach issues and no dates with Marrhea*, just a fever and the unceasing desire to sleep for a thousand years.
Most mornings I have managed to bike into town with my team for our new morning ministry. Because we are an all male squad we have been given the rare opportunity to spend the next month building relationships with local Monks. To make sure we do this ministry well, we are spending the first week researching Buddhist monks and interceding through prayer.
Ministry in the afternoon looks different for each of us. Our ministry host is passionate about student’s walking out their passions for the glory of God, and gave us freedom to pursue our a ministry of our choice for the next two months. After talking with her more I have decided to produce a series of promotional videos for the various ministries of Ezra. The purpose of these videos will be to show the importance of the work being done my Ezra Ministries in an effort to gather support from donors in the United States.
My health has prevented me from making much headway on any of this, but I am determined to make up for lost time. As I look forward I find myself growing excited. As in any relationship, the honeymoon phase must come to an end. There is pain in losing the feelings of excitement and wonder that once drew the couple together. But, gradually, steadily, those feelings are replaced by the stronger bonds of intimacy, devotion and love.
I am confident the same truths apply to my walk on this race. That as I greave the loss of what once fulfilled me here, I will also be filled by all that comes with deeper relationships. Intimacy with my team, devotion towards mission, and love for my Savior.
*While on the race, it is common for participants to get sick. To check in on one another’s health while in public my team developed code words for various symptoms, one of those code words being “Marrhea”. Marrhea is a substitute for diarrhea and is always referred to as a woman. For example “I had a terrible date with Marrhea last night.” This is not to be confused with the use of “Solida” code word for a solid stool.
