I have a month left on the World Race.
One month. One month before it’s all over. One month before I leave the close knit community that is my squad and return back to the U.S. One month before I fly solo as the new person I’ve become. I’m writing this blog because it scares me. To be honest, one of the main feelings I associate with my homecoming is FEAR. It’s a dull fear that turns my stomach into knots and causes my heart to panic. Yes there will be major culture shock. I’ve become accustom to street food, cold showers, limited wi-fi, and languages I don’t understand, but after deeper self-evaluation I’ve come to realize that a majority of my apprehension stems from my assumption that friends and family won’t understand; they won’t know where I’m coming from, both literally and figuratively. They won’t have grace for me as I try to navigate my way around the craziness of America. The only way I can hope to change that; to alleviate that fear, is to let people into my thoughts as I approach the finish line. So here it goes…
First off, I’ve been gone for nearly a year. When I get back, I will have been to 11 countries in 11 months, and while some of those countries are in the same region, they are all very different from one another. Different people, different languages, different cultures. It was exhausting. By the time I left each country, I felt like I’d been there an entire year. This means that by now, the end of the Race, I feel like I’ve been absent for about ten years. Going back to the U.S. is going to be like entering a time warp.
I guess I can compare it to that scene at the end of Chronicles of Narnia, when the kids emerge from the wardrobe after growing up in another world. Everything was just as they’d left it.
This is how I imagine re-entry will be. I’m not saying time has stopped. Yes, new buildings may have been constructed here and there, people may look a little different and there will probably be a new topic trending on social media, but overall, the place I left hasn’t really changed. It will be incredibly hard to wrap my mind around. I anticipate times when my beat up journals, full of memories and prayers will be the only evidence I have that this past year wasn’t just a dream. Please be patient with me as I struggle to separate who I am now, from the person I was when I left for the race, while the world around me looks the same as the one I departed from.
Secondly, the race is often portrayed as this epic mission trip. It is definitely full of once-in-a-lifetime adventures, but not every day is insane. Not every day is a day I’ve been taught a mind blowing lesson from God. Even though I am on the mission field, there’s been days when God has seemed far away; when it was hard to hear His voice above the lies of the enemy. There’s been a lot of sitting and a lot of waiting. There’s been many times my patience has been tested. I don’t want to downplay the race, because it’s been an incredible journey that’s changed me in so many ways.
But I think sometimes the World Race is put on this pedestal. It’s romanticized as this Christian paradise where racers dance with Asian children in the sunshine, and preach the Gospel to unreached people groups while holding African babies on their hips.
There were days that occasionally resembled this fantasy, but there were also days of rain. There were days of conflict and hurt. There were days when pressing in was the only thing I was able to focus on. I’m telling you this so that you have a realistic idea of the journey I’m returning from. It was a great one, don’t get me wrong, but it was hard. I have amazing stories to tell, but not all of them will be filled with rainbows.
And finally, since I’ve been gone for 11 months, I understand there will be questions. Questions about my journey, requests to hear tales of the people I met and the miracles God did. However, as you can imagine, it is hard to sum up an entire year of my life, especially when it’s felt like ten. Even the thought of it is overwhelming.
I can’t generalize my journey because there’s been different seasons I’ve walked through, different lessons I’ve learned. I’ve battled many giants and become friends with so many people across the globe.
I’d be happy to tell you about my Race, but please be specific in the questions you ask. What did my favorite month of ministry look like? Which culture was my favorite? Where did I experience the most spiritual growth? What caused my heart to break? How did each of my teams push me? I’m not saying you have to ask these questions specifically, but it would be less daunting for us both if questions were more pointed.
Also, just as I’ve been away from you, you’ve been away from me. I want to hear about your life too. I want to hear what you’ve been struggling with, what you’ve been able to celebrate. For every question you ask me, I want to hear a story about your past year as well.
So those are the three main points I’d like people to know upon my re-entry. I am excited to see you, but please understand I’ll have a lot to process. I’ll have a lot to re-adjust to, and it won’t happen in a day, or even a week. To be honest, I don’t ever want to become completely re-acclimated to life in the U.S. but I wanted you to know where my heart will be when I step off that plain and onto American soil.
See you all in a month!
