Growing up, hand-me-downs were not very cool. The stuff I received wasn’t “new” because I always saw it on my siblings. I remember growing up and wearing the same few outfits over and over again. When I got my first job working at the restaurant my mom worked at, I was quick to buy new clothes–and it was nice. I always had an abundance of clothes because I knew how it felt to have so little; I knew how it felt to look the same way every single day.
Here I am: month four of the race, only hours before we head to the airport to jump continents. Each squad mate is scrambling to pack their bags, making sure the bags weigh less than 50 lbs. All discarded materials are placed on a “free table” and are up for grabs for everyone else.
Hand-me-downs–it’s a blessing. I’ve needed long skirts and more t-shirts for Africa in order to follow the cultural dress code. And there it is–on the free table! It’s such a blessing that I don’t have to pay for that. It’s a blessing that my squad mates are willing to share.
Something that was so shameful growing up had become such a blessing.
But that’s part of this trip. We get rid of all things familiar to serve others; when we get the opportunity to have anything familiar–even something so despised back home–you see it in a new light, and it is a blessing.
