I can vividly remember finding out our launch date. Until January 7th had revealed itself, the World Race just seemed like some thing I had talked about for 6 months, but on the day they posted launch information, it became a reality. And after 8 months of living the Race- my literal every day, in and out life- normal life, thinking about an end to this season now seems like the start of it once did.
After another typical day in Chibuto, Mozambique, we sat as a team around the gigantic fire and Brittani dropped some news on us that was hot off the presses.
On November 19th, our feet will once more set foot on American soil. Or carpet, anyways.
And my reaction was not what I thought it would be.
Am I excited that I’ll be home for Thanksgiving? Yes.
Am I dreaming about my family 24/7? Yes.
Am I excited to go sit in a grocery store and fill the cart with every food I missed for 11 months, only to dump it all out, complaining that I could get it cheaper in Asia? Yes.
But I’m also realizing that to get those things, I have to say goodbye to where I am right now- this crazy place where “normal” means a constant slumber party with five other girls, building walls out of bamboo like Pocahontas, sitting around a fire by night singing African tunes, boiling water to take showers, the ability to dub any outside surface “toilet” when you wake up in the middle of the night, devoting every ounce of your strength and attention to learning about God, yourself and others and working alongside them…
These 11 months are a gift. I can honestly say that this experience is unlike any other I’ve ever had.
And now, like a Cadbury bar, I find myself wanting to savor every last morsel.
