It’s 3:23am the day I leave for the Race and I cannot seem
to fall asleep. Usually, this would be due to the fact that I was not finished
packing or some other detail was not in order. This time, I have no excuse. I
am ready. Well, physically speaking.
I assume, since I have not yet joined the ranks, that this
extremely similar to what it must feel like to skydive. In fact, the more I
ponder the analogy, the more I uncover similarities.
When you sign up to skydive, if you are an adventure seeker
like myself, you must have a rush of excitement. You are going skydiving. In
other words, you are going to literally dive out of a plane and fall from the
sky. That is pretty awesome and exciting. My enthusiasm when I signed up for
the World Race I think would be pretty comparable to this sentiment. A feeling
of, let’s do it, and let’s do it now.
Then you get trained in. You sit down with the experts and
they tell you what to expect. You’ll be jumping with an expert, making the
whole scenario feel much more comforting, but you’d better pay attenti
on. You
could fatally screw this up. I have sat down with the World Race experts
(former racers and AIM staff) and learned from them. I have listened carefully
knowing that my life really does depend on what they have to say. It’s been
informative and even enjoyable.
So you get your gear and hop into a plane. You’re on your
way to the big jump… with some guy attached to your back. The nerves start to
come because the jump has finally become real. And the higher you climb, the
more real it becomes. Then once you reach the altitude that you cannot rightly
imagine they open a hatch and tell you it’s time to jump. But you’ve never seen
an open door on a plane before, much less been asked to jump out of it. The
wind rushes through the plane and you walk over to the door, looking down at
the earth with its promises of adventure or terror.
And if there wasn’t someone strapped to your back jumping
out the door for you, maybe you would never do it.
That’s kind of the point I’m at right now. I’m standing at
the door. I can see the adventure below me, but I am sad about the life I’m
leaving behind. If I stay in the plane I’ll have more time with my family. More
time to know them, do life with them, and laugh about the lamest things with them (they
are the kind of things only your family laughs at). I will without a doubt be
able to witness my best friends weddings and see my sister’s last soccer
season. If I just stay in that plane.
But the problem is, I’ve got this guy strapped to my back. And
at first I thought it was my ticket to Miami. The ticket I paid for and don’t
want to waste will get me to the Squad and there I’ll find my solace and be
able to make it through this.
I was wrong. And for shame, I am going to go the way of what
you all would have expected… the cliché. The guy strapped to my back is my Lord
and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is beckoning me into the open air. I believe He is
telling me there is so much of who I am He wants to show me. And He is going to
use the race to do this. There is so much He wants to do in and through me. And
if I stay in the plane, I’m going to miss that. And I’m never going to know the
fullness of what God has for me.
I have no guarantees for this next year. I wish I could say
what is going to happen in and through me, but I simply cannot. How can you
predict what happens and how it feels to skydive when you have never done it? But
the unknown of it perhaps is what causes the longing within.
So, although I love the plane the Lord has allowed me to fly
in these past few years, I know it is time to jump. It is not without tears and
the kind of sadness that physically hurts, but it is also not without the
thrill of freefalling from the clouds (or at least I assume).
Here I am. At the door. And in only a few hours the guy on
my back will push me right out that door. And thank God for that. Otherwise I
might miss out on the greatest opportunity of my life.
Peace out USA… for now.
And next time I’ll try to use an analogy that actually draws
from experience. Most of my imagination here was drawn from living vicariously
through my friend Elyse.
