As parent week comes to a close, I asked my dad to write a guest blog 🙂 Enjoy!
I didn’t know what to expect as my wife and I languished in the 14-inch wide spaces that were called seats 49E and 49D on the massive Boeing 777-200. Flinching and twitching the way you do when you have not slept for a considerable length, I pushed through the discomfort for the opportunity to see my “racer”. I hadn’t seen her in almost nine months and a big part of my life was missing. We had Skyped, Face-timed, texted and I had excitedly read her blog, but I had not had a chance to hug her and tell her how proud I was of her trek.
My wife and I landed in Johannesburg and five long days separated us from our “racer”. During those five days we enjoyed the comforts of modern society. It was a far cry from what our “racer” had experienced in the last 9 months. Johannesburg, for all its troubles (which the natives will freely tell you about), is a bustling city with all the amenities of home. In South Africa, Nelson Mandela has posthumously become like a deity. His picture is everywhere and he is considered a liberator of his people. I was fascinated by a quote from Mandela, “It always seems impossible until its done”. Nine months earlier it had seemed nearly impossible that we would see Jessie again. I cried when she left us, I cried when we saw her again and I would cry when we left her in Africa.
So many questions lingered. What would she feel like? Who was this girl, who clearly now was a young lady? What had the race been like? How had my “racer” changed? Was she happy? Content? Was she destined to live abroad? How would her journey impact the rest of her life? Soon, I would have some answers.
The bus rocked back and forth along the gravel road before it stopped near the top of the mountain. My wife and I, along with another parent, were asked to step out of the bus to have a “private conversation” with Glen, the parent vision trip leader. Oh, oh! What had happened to Jessie?
The sunshine splashed on us as we stepped off the bus. We were perched on top of so many mountains but all I could think about was our “racer”, Jessie. Together we walked toward the back of the bus. My mind raced to a bad place, then briefly to wondering if this was a setup and then back to concern. From the corner of my eye a figure was rushing toward me. Jessie! I hugged her and would not let her go. A moment later I heard, “Can I get a chance?” Her mother had been patiently waiting as I absorbed every moment of our hug.
Before I continue, I should explain what a “racer” is. A racer is humble. To be asked to participate in such an endeavor, you must be so. A racer is kind. No matter where you travel in the world, kind people are preferred (note to self). A racer is gentle. Gentleness and kindness go hand in hand. A racer is a warrior. There are spiritual battles and there are physical battles on the “race”. To survive, a warrior mentality is essential. A racer is patient. The “race” is long and if a racer does not abide in patience, patience will eventually abide in them or they will not endure. A racer is compassionate. Without compassion you would never become a racer. A racer is a liberator, liberating people all over the world from darkness. A racer, like all of us, is imperfect. They are clay on the potter’s wheel being shaped by the Master.
A racer is someone who the world thinks sacrifices one year of their life to help others around the world. In reality, the racer is being honed and shaped by the people they encounter to conform to the image of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17). The racers by now know, “As iron sharpens iron, so one racer sharpens another.” Although I am not a racer, I have been sharpened.
Defining the “racers”, has helped me answer the questions about my daughter. A racer is who she has become and who she will forever strive to be. From my own experience, the race of life will try to tear away from her all she has become. A college friend wrote a song about the difficulty in following Christ:
I’m sore from fighting battles Lord, my soul is black and blue
My righteousness is all torn up, from sticking up for you
My helmet’s cracking down the back, my arms are heavy Lord
And just today I caught the Devil, trying to dull my sword
So Master take my weaponry and shine it up again
I’ll clothe myself in righteousness and go where I’ve not been
I’ll take the news to everyone, that you have overcome
And God has paid the final price, in Jesus Christ our Lord
There was a room in a dorm at my college that we turned into a prayer room. I remember the 8-10 faithful men who gathered regularly to pray for the world. To pray that we would impact the world for Christ. Perhaps the racers are part of the answer to those prayers uttered so long ago in Bellingham, Washington. Certainly, they have affected many lives.
On the plane ride to Manzini there was an article about Toto’s famous song, Africa. Some of the lyrics still linger in my brain:
“It’s gonna take a lot to take me away from you, there’s nothing a million men or more could ever do”.
That is how I feel about leaving not only my daughter, but leaving her friends as well. They are forever changed and they will impact the world. The racers remind us of what is important in life – people, family, Christ. Stay true racers! Continue to sharpen each other. Keep your armor ready and polished. Put on his full armor and keep fighting the good fight!
When my wife and I return to Johannesburg, we will see a billboard with the words, “Hamba kahle, Madiba” on it. A picture of Nelson Mandela will be in the background. On our first visit, I looked at it for days before I asked someone what it meant. Madiba, was the name of the clan that Mandela came from. It is customary to refer to people by their clan name among the Zulu. Hamba kahle, means “go well”. Nelson Mandela died in December 2013. His nation honors him and bids him well.
I can only imagine the great things that will come out of Africa when the racers leave. Hamba kahle, Jessers. Hamba kahle, racers. It always seems impossible until its done.
Tom Schuett
