“A few days ago an American woman who had spent about
three days of her life in a third world country looked at me and said, “I would
SO love to do what you do. I would do it in a heartbeat. Oh, I would take 14
kids in a second!” It is a good thing that I was having a graceful day, because
I said, “Aw that’s nice.” But my not so graceful heart was angry. And the not
so graceful voice in my head wanted to say to her, “Ok then, do it. I can have you 14
orphaned, abandoned, uncared for children tomorrow. So here is what you have to
do: Quit school. Quit your job. Sell your stuff. Disobey and disappoint your
parents. Break your little brother’s heart. Lose all but about a handful of
friends because the rest of them think you have gone off the deep end. Break up
with the love of your life. Move to a country where you know one person and
none of the language. And when you are finished, I will be here waiting with
your 14 children!” I wanted to ask her what was stopping her, knowing that the
answer would be her comfort. I wanted to look at her and tell her that my life
was full and joyful and WONDERFUL, but I also wanted to tell her to COUNT THE
COST. Because my life IS full and joyful and wonderful, but it is NOT easy. My
life is NOT glamorous. I do not expect it to be. I do not think that anything
about carrying a cross was easy or glamorous either.”
– Kisses from Katie (if you have a few minutes… read this and thank me when I get back in December)
Let me make one thing clear: the World Race is way more of a privilege than it is a
sacrifice. Are you serious, it’s not
even close.
I get to travel through the
Caribbean, South America, Central America, Asia and Africa with amazing people
and do amazing things. I’ve swam in the
Amazon River, made bricks out of mud in the Peruvian Desert, climbed volcanoes,
seen some of the most beautiful beaches Earth has to offer, and focus everyday
on my relationship with the Lord.
Privileged and chosen and loved more than I can know. But the World Race also requires sacrifices. Compared to Katie, the sacrifices that have
come with my journey seem nearly nonexistent.
I don’t have any kids to take care of, I have plenty of
friends around me all the time, and I’ll be coming home in 5 months, not
indefinitely. But there are sacrifices
never the less. And it’s
not easy, and sometimes it’s not glamorous.
And I don’t expect it to be.
Count the cost.
Maybe for the first time this year, I’ve found myself
counting the cost
of my present way of living. I’m in Kitale, Kenya. That’s
exciting, don’t get me wrong. I’m no
geography expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s Africa. I’m doing my best to
appreciate that to the fullest.
In the last ten years or so, Joseph Sherer and I have built
quite a rap sheet of trouble. We’ve been
thrown in the back of a cop car, had more vehicles stuck in mud then I care to
count, mooned our entire high school band, pissed off several tow truck
companies, and shot a whole lot of ill-advised paintballs at people. We were roommates the first two years of college,
and the constant parties, bars and UT cheerleaders never got old1.
In Europe, we conquered 10 countries and fell from one of the highest bungee
jumps in the world, accidently took a train to Genova, Italy, trying to get to Geneva,
Switzerland, and got lost in the middle of the night in the back alleys of
Barcelona. Yeah, I’d say there’s a good
chance that he’s involved in any fond memory of the last 10 years.
On the beach (my favorite place), 2 days before the 4th
of July (my favorite day), with all of my best friends in attendance, Joseph
(one of my favorite people) was married (my favorite reason to party!). Before I left for the Race, he asked me to be
the best man at his wedding. I obviously
had to decline, and told him I wouldn’t be able to make it. Though for about 6 months, I held out hope
that I would somehow be able to (a) afford a couple thousand dollar plane
ticket to come home from Kenya for a weekend (b) working the logistics for
traveling to and from the airport in Africa, after (c) getting permission from
AIM to come home. I didn’t make it past
‘a’, so at the reception dinner, there was one empty seat. My name was on the wedding program and Joseph
even got me a groomsman gift.
I was buying a ticket to a Vanderbilt baseball game a few
years ago when I got a call from Joseph.
He was living in Knoxville still, and I was back in Nashville finishing
my last year of school. As Lindy now
knows all too well, we call each other more than the average male
friend should,
so I casually answered the phone while I walked up the stairs into the
stadium. ‘Hey.’
‘Soooo….. I met this girl,’ he said.
‘Uh huh’, I replied, focusing more on finding my seat number
then what he was saying.
He paused.
‘Go on,’ I said.
Another pause.
‘She… She beat me at ping pong…’ he finally stuttered.
I turned around and walked back down the stairs. This was serious. The only other person that could have possibly
understood the seriousness of this would be the manager of the apartment where
we lived in Knoxville the year before.
He was the one that had to fix the holes we made in our living room,
which we had converted to a ping pong room.
The holes in the wall were results of Joseph occasionally losing a game
or missing a shot.
Yea, ping pong was serious.
And so was this girl, whoever she was.
The rest of the story unfolded just as I pictured when I turned
around and walked down those stadium stairs.
I would meet Lindy, she would be just as amazing as you’d expect a girl that
competed nationally in ping pong to be, she would beat me at ping pong, too, he
would pick her up for dates in his huge, nasty 1970-something K-5 Blazer, Lindy
would be okay with that, Joseph would fall in love, I would make a few dumb
comments along the way to get Lindy mad at him, he would propose on a Florida
beach, and on July 2nd they would be married. Now they’re in St. Lucia on their honeymoon,
and hopefully Joseph’s not too tempted to rock climb the famous pitons while
he’s there.
I guess, since that day at the baseball field, the only
unexpected thing
that really happened was that I wouldn’t be able to attend
Joseph’s wedding. Count the cost. But, I’m in Africa, on my way back to Asia in a couple months, living
an adventure, loving every minute of it, and I couldn’t be happier for my best
friend. Somewhere along this journey, I
heard a rumor that God is good.
Congratulations Jo and Lindy2.
1In actuality, the constant MVP Baseball 2004 for
X-Box, running through seasons of 24 and Sopranos, and playing too much disc
golf didn’t get old.
2
While in Thailand, I received an e-mail from Joseph. No subject title, no body, nothing in the description. Just a picture. He’s a man with a cold, calculating heart. On second thought, I take this whole blog back.
