The end of the Race. I’ve had reoccurring dreams of this moment for the past eleven months. Running into my Mom and Dad’s arms. Finally getting to see my best friends again. Being able to have the freedom to do the things that I want to and not have to have someone go with me. Hot water in the shower and a washing machine. A population that speaks English primarily and food that is familiar. I have longed for these things. I have been so homesick that it hurt. So I should be ecstatic, right? You are right. I am so happy to be going home and to pick up my beautiful American life again.
However, there was one thing I wasn’t anticipating. How leaving the World Race might break my heart.
This year has been an incredible journey for my squadmates and me. We have matured from rookie missionaries to Spirit-filled ambassadors. From being timid about worship at Training Camp to speaking in tongues and casting out demons from people in Africa. From being scared of expressing ourselves to awareness of the specific gifts that God has uniquely given us. From being unsure to let God lead us to trusting God wholeheartedly. From only having surface level relationships to knowing and loving each other deeply. From being insecure and unsure of our worth to realizing our place in the Kingdom as sons and daughters of the one true king. God’s love has truly transformed our hearts and our lives in a radical way.
It’s not just that we’re leaving the Race, though. We’re leaving our family all over again. My squad has been there for every single moment this year. We have seen each other through every season of brokenness and of joy. We have held each other when we were weeping and the tears seemed like they might go on forever. We have yelled at each other and passive-aggressively pouted when someone gave us feedback that we knew was right. We have spoken words of encouragement and told the truth even when it was the hardest thing to say. We have trekked through the jungle, swam with piranhas, preached sermons, sand-boarded, baptized each other in the Pacific Ocean, repelled down waterfalls, climbed volcanoes, taught English, fought depression, learned how to use chopsticks, fed the homeless, dipped our toes in the Indian Ocean, filled each other’s stockings on Christmas, ran from monkeys, endured incredibly challenging months, ate watermelon on beautiful beaches, painted walls, snuggled on bus rides, watched thousands of movies, attended four hour church services, plowed up gardens, sang off-key worship songs, laughed uncontrollably while being soaked by waterfalls, celebrated birthdays, mourned deaths, photographed all kinds of animals on wild safaris, visited remote villages, shared our secrets, watched each other’s hearts break and our dreams come true. We have loved each other with everything we have and never settled for keeping a friendship at arm’s length. We have become a true community and a family.
I have come to realize that after this year I will always experience a sense of homesickness. No matter where I go I will always be missing a part of my family. Please forgive me if I have that far-off look in my eyes during a conversation or suddenly get choked up. I’m probably just thinking about my incredible, unforgettable, life-changing, dream of a year around the world and my family that shared it with me.
