Missing.

I’m finding that I’m missing more and and more things from life on the World Race. The things I looked forward to most about returning home have now become mundane again. I think nothing about being able to order my food in English. Free refills are expected, and in a timely manner. Seeing a real toilet no longer makes me jump for joy. It’s funny, some of the things that I now miss are the things I was most ready to get away from on the field.

I miss the excitement of not knowing where I would be sleeping the next day, or how we would get to our destination.

I miss the craziness of African bus rides. Chickens, nursing mothers, the smell – all of it.

I miss falling asleep on the floor.

I miss the moments when it felt like we had no control over our situations. We could only depend on each other, and we knew it would always work out. 

I miss our “heathen” moments, like the time we were supposed to be walking around a Vietnamese college campus to share our faith with students. A few of us snuck away and searched the street for waffles instead. And yes, we did hum the Mission Impossible theme song. 

I miss hearing people’s stories. 

I miss the sacred moments…the moments that were undoubtedly God-ordained. The moments that forced you to kick your shoes off because you knew the ground you were standing on was holy.

I miss my team. I miss my squad. I miss my friends. 

While on the field, we often talked about what it would be like to be friends in “real life”. What would we look like when we could choose from more than three shirts? Where would we go? What would we do? Well, I finally got to find out. I got to see my friends again!

 

About two months ago I spend a couple of days at training camp for an upcoming Race. I was so giddy about picking Chelsea up from the airport. Chels and I have a special bond. We’ve shared a bed with each other more than anyone else in either of our lives. I kept reaching over to touch her arm during our ride to the camp. I couldn’t believe she was actually there. When we arrived that night, we were bombarded with hugs and screams from our other squad-mates. It was a beautiful reunion. I was amazed by how fast my mind shifted back to World Race mode. I walked in the bathroom to get ready for bed. I was taken back when I saw a real toilet rather than a squatty potty. I then proceeded to look for the bucket to pour the water in the bowl. Didn’t find that either. It took me a moment to realize that I was still in America. Strange feeling. In true Race fashion, we packed ourselves like sardines on the floor. I drifted to sleep, feeling like I was finally at home.

Lots has happened since the World Race ended. I got a real job, went to Ireland for the Awakening, went to Vegas for a mission conference (imagine that), joined a roller derby team, and had knee surgery. Life is moving forward, as much as I’d like it to slow down or rewind. The World Race is over, and I miss it more with each day. But I still have the memories. I just pray that it continues to be a huge part of my thought process each day. Missing so many aspects of the experience is hard, but it reminds me that it was worth it. I hope that I continue to miss the Race more and more as life continues.