In December, my team was in Uganda. We were relatively isolated from the digital world, as we spent the majority of our week in a village outside of Kampala. On our off day, we would travel into the capitol to visit friends, eat out, and get wifi. We would go a week at a time without any communication with our families and friends. It was during this month that a pivotal moment occurred that was a part of a beautiful journey that really started before I even left for the Race.
After I left training camp in July 2014, I told my mom about the Parent Vision Trip (PVT), and she was rather speechless. I told her to consider the chance to come and join my squad and me in the field for a week, and then I dropped it. Flash forward to Uganda. One off day, I sent my mom a letter that I had written about PVT. And then I had to wait. Seven long days passed, and as I rode a boda boda (recklessly driven motorbike) into the capitol, I was incredibly anxious. What would my mom say? Would she think I was crazy for asking her to come to PVT? Would she say yes? Was any of this possible?
In the letter, I wrote to her about how I had been experiencing so much freedom from fear. I was no longer carrying the heavy baggage that everyone and everything was dangerous. I had become more open and more eager to try new things. And I was having a blast along the way. But would my mom and dad be willing to trust the Lord and join with me on the Race for a week? I wasn’t sure that they would lay down their fears and take the jump.
But my parents, as I already knew, are amazing. And they trust the Father. On that day in December, I opened an email from my mom saying that both her and my father were coming to Honduras. I began to weep, and some of my teammates wept with me. They were so happy for my family and me, and they understood how much it meant to me to see my family take that jump.
And jump we did. My parents flew to Honduras and landed on one of the shortest runways ever, despite my mom’s lack of love for flying. They came and served alongside me, playing games with a rambunctious classroom of 6th graders, painting a community center, and teaching baseball to a village full of kids. It was awesome. And powerful. When you watch the two people you respect the most in the world step completely out of their comfort zones because they love Jesus and you, it’s pretty exciting.
The last day of PVT had to be the most terrifying and exciting. We were told on our day off that we would go hike by a beautiful waterfall, and the warning was “you will get a little wet.” My definition of a little wet is vastly different than the Honduran definition. With my parents and the rest of the PVT family in tow, we headed into a giant, gorgeous waterfall. We jumped in pools of water and climbed into little caverns under the falls. As you head into the final part, they tell you to hold onto the rope and breathe through your nose.
I think those instructions saved my life. There is a giant pile of rocks with a rope attached where you have to climb up and hold on for dear life. Because you can’t see anything. Water is pouring down so hard and fast that you literally can’t do anything but hold on and pray. My parents and I all made it up the rocks, hid behind the falls, and tried to stop shaking. I think my mom and I both thought we were going to die. No words will ever be able to express how difficult and scary that part of the day was, but it made me see my parents even in a new light.
At any point, my mom and dad could’ve looked at the challenge and said, “I’m not going to do this.” They could’ve turned around and took the easy way out. But they didn’t. They persevered in their trust, just as they did when they signed up to come to Honduras. I thought it was impossible for me to respect them more, but after PVT, I now see them as brave, adventurous, and people that have such resilience. And I love it. When I get home from the Race in about six weeks, I’ll share a lot of things with my parents. I know that if anyone can understand, it’ll be them. They lived it with me for a week, and now we will have stories to share for years to come. It’s going to be awesome.
