“Tired of the nine to five?” They say.
“Come on an adventure.” They say.
“Feed the hungry, proclaim freedom, tell people about Jesus.”
“Love people,” They say.
“Love people,” They say.
Love people.
Stupid World Race.
Nobody tells you that at the end of the month you’re going to find yourself in a micro bus with your Asha Nepal sister’s head on your shoulder, trying to keep the tears from coming as you try to figure out how on earth you’re going to be able to leave her.
Nobody tells you that a month later you’ll still be talking about Pastor Edison, Hulda, and Solomon and wishing you could have taken them with you.
Stupid World Race.
“Love people,” They say. But nobody tells you what loving people does to your heart. How when you love people you’re basically giving little pieces of your heart away and taking a little piece of their heart in return, which is why separation is so painful.
I know Garth, I know. I could’ve skipped the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.
And I know the dance is worth it, but I also know the steps are hard and there are going to be some songs that I just feel like sitting out.
Like this one. The leaving song.
I know that next month and the month after that new World Race teams are coming to Asha Nepal. I know some other young woman is going to become friends with my sister, and she might forget all about this awkward American girl who went with her to the hospital a couple of times.
And I know that in just over a week or so, even though I know better, I will be falling in love with a whole new group of people.
Stupid World Race.
One of my Asha sisters and I.
