Lately I’ve been looking at other World Racers’ blogs, and when I do I think “Wow, that’s so neat that they get to do that!” And then I remember that I’m on the World Race. It may sound strange, but it’s true.
I think it’s because the World Race often appears glamorous on videos and bogs, but the day-to-day life is usually tough and tiresome. For instance, I took a nap the other afternoon, and when I woke up it was dark and pouring outside. The last thing I wanted to do was go out in the rain and talk to women at the bars until midnight.
Today I spent hours picking floor tiles out of a trash mound – there were cockroaches, spiders, bright red worms (???), fecal matter, filthy rain water, moldy cardboard boxes and a whole bunch of other lovely things that came into contact with my bare hands, arms and legs. As Brandy and I were working we joked about how this wasn’t advertised on the World Race homepage when we signed up – “Hold orphans in Africa, rescue prostitutes in Asia…pick floor tiles out of trash mounds.” We talked about how being a missionary appears more attractive than it really is, and how all those adorable pictures of us holding children are usually followed by the child peeing on us, or something.
We’re pretty exhausted this month – we wake up tired, we live through the day tired, and we fall asleep tired. I’m not exactly sure why – if it’s because we stay out at the bars until midnight and wake up when the sun comes up, if it’s because we often do manual labor during the day, or it’s an emotional exhaustion, or what.
At the same time, as I’ve said before, there’s no-where else I’d rather be. And when I think about the fact that we have less than three weeks left, I don’t really know what to do. I want to cry.
It’s just so strange to think about the huge transition that is rapidly approaching – everything I’ve known for the last year is about to change, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Don’t get me wrong; I am beyond excited to be with my family and friends once again. But this journey began for me nearly two years ago when I decided to apply, and now it’s all coming to an end.
At training camp they taught us about grieving the seasons of our lives, about how life is a constant flow of beginnings and endings, and how we need to learn to embrace that. I think I’m pretty good at letting things go and moving on as life pushes me forward, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for me.
Right now I’m trying to figure out how exactly to prepare myself for the end of the World Race – all I’ve been able to do is be sad. And maybe that’s the only thing it will take for me – allowing myself to be sad about it. Though writing about my feelings usually helps too, and that’s probably why I’m typing all this at the moment. Perhaps you should brace yourselves for many more of these sappy blogs to come.
Anyway. Nearing the end of this trip sure does help me to appreciate it more – if I was picking up trash tiles back in October I’m sure I would’ve been crying about it (that was the month we picked up pine cones and painted the bottom of trees white (???) – bitter tears may or may not have been shed.) Now I’m crying because I realize how much I’m going to miss sorting through trash tiles and being tired from bar ministry and everything in between.
Oh life, the things you do to me.
