It's Friday, May 30th, in Kishinev, Moldova and I am curled up on my bunk at the Funky Mamaliga hostel, listening to the rain. Today is our last day of something we call mini debrief (a few days of rest in between countries). After our month building a church in Transnistria, a country that doesn't actually exist according to the vast majority of the world, we are officially heading into month 10 of our Race in Romania.
(The Funky Mamaliga)
Month 10! That means that in 60 short days, these feet will be on American soil. That means that tomorrow I can officially say, "I'll be home next month." That realization makes me want to jump for joy and cry in the fetal position all at the same time. If you ever want to know the definition of mixed feelings and exactly how it feels to have no idea what your feeling, leave everyone you love and follow the Lord around the world with a bunch of strangers. Soon those strangers will become family and your heart will be scattered throughout the nations and you'll miss home like crazy, but have the absolute hardest time imagining a life where you don't spend 24/7 in community and where you don't pick up your life every 3-4 weeks to move on to the next tiny little lifetime.
You'll long for your independence back and a life where you don't spend every waking moment with the same 6 people, but you will also near tears thinking about a time when your best friends will be all over the country and you can't stay up all night talking and laughing, despite the fact that you were just together all day. You'll long for normalcy and routine, but you know you'll miss the spontaneity and weird things that make your day when living overseas. You'll talk incessantly about the foods you miss, how you can't wait to hug your people, and how hot showers, normal food, not having language barriers, driving a car, and spending more than 2 minutes alone sound like heaven, but you'll also know that after a few weeks at home, you'll be longing for adventure and travel and your squad mates.
And if your like most, without a clue as to what life after the Race holds, you'll probably even feel like the end of the Race is sprint towards the edge of a cliff, time moving faster and faster with each stride, with nothing in view but the big blue sky and you're just running and hoping against hope that there is a parachute to open or a magic carpet to catch you when you jump.
That's where I'm at anyway and I'm sure, if you were nearing the end of your own journey, you'd feel much of the same excitement and confusion and fear. And if it were you-and not me- I'd tell you that I know that the edge of the cliff looks exciting and terrifying and unknown all at the same time and even though you're freaking out because you have no idea what comes after the big jump, it will absolutely be something good, because God isn't going to take you on a crazy adventure around he world and then decide, "well, that's as good as it's going to get for you; it's all downhill from here, kid." He has absolutely beautiful things planned for your future.
I'd tell you to stop fixing your eyes solely on trying to see over the edge when your still so far back. It's impossible and kind of pointless and if God wanted you to know exactly what it would be like, you'd know. I'd tell you to take a look around at where you are. I know you're exhausted and some days you're over it and so ready to see into the next season, but please, savor every minute of the next 2 months, because you won't get them back and these moments are precious and wonderful and worth every bit of your attention.
I'd tell you that there is time for the future later, and while a little planning is wise, focusing too much on what's yet to come, will cause you to miss the next 60 days of here and now- and that would be nothing short of tragic.
(Won't see things like this at home)
I'd tell you that there are children waiting to be held and people waiting to be loved. There are hearts being prepared to hear the Gospel and bodies waiting to be healed. There are gypsies waiting to share conversation, made up of a few words, a little laughter, and a lot of love. There are meals waiting to be eaten and sights waiting to be seen. There are a thousand gifts of moments, friendships and memories waiting to be made, cherished, noticed and remembered. There is freedom ready to be gained and passions ready to be revealed. There is change ready to come and new levels of intimacy ready to be had with Jesus. There is grace waiting to be breathed in every morning when you awaken and every night as you fall asleep. There is life waiting- begging- not to be ignored, but to be truly lived.
I'd tell you that you have a choice in these next 60 days- to worry about the future or to cast all of your anxieties on the Lord; to be consumed with excitement for home, family and normalcy to the point of wishing these moments away or to choose to live every moment fully, knowing the end will happen in time and that God has so much left to do through you and share with you on this journey; to let fear of the unknowns keep you captive, or to trust that God has it under control; to coast through your time, knowing the end is near or to choose in to every moment, relationship, conversation, and gift He has for you.
With only 2 short months left, that will surely fly by, I'd look you in the eyes and tell you all of those things, praying that you'd believe me. But, since I am the one running towards the end of cliff and it's my journey's end approaching and my 60 days waiting to be lived, I guess I'm really saying all of that to myself-hoping against hope that I won't waste the gift of the final sprint and the beauty that is everything in between me and that free fall, but that I'll take it all in, step by step, and when the time does come to jump, I'll soar off that cliff, arms spread, knowing I gave every bit of the journey my all and trusting Jesus to help me fly.
