Why Race When You Can Walk?

 

That’s the general consensus given by former Racers as they prepared us for this once-in-a-lifetime journey.

 

I quickly came to realize that at least the first half of that statement was true. It’s certainly true here in India. Each day seems to last an eternity: we don’t start our ministry until the evening and don’t finish until late at night. So, we constantly are having to find things to fill our time in the mornings and afternoons. Lots of prayer. Lots of reading. Lots of deep conversations.

 

All the free time before ministry has been so rewarding and so fruitful: we’ve each grown closer to one another and closer to God during this time. But, I can’t deny that coming from the constant busyness of life in America has caused these Indian days to seem never-ending. 

 

Originally, this caused me to feel as if the second half of that observation about time on the Race couldn’t possibly ring true. How could the months go by fast if the days seemed to drag on and on and on and on?

 

But, here I sit with only 9 days left in this first month of the World Race. And suddenly I realize that they were all right. 

 

Both halves of that statement were equally true. 

 

I only have 9 days left in India but I feel as if I have barely scratched the surface of this incredible country. There’s so much more beauty to behold, so many more smiles to see, so many more laughs to be shared.

 

I already am beginning to miss playing with the 11 orphan boys that share a home with us. I’m starting to miss spending my mornings sipping chai on the rooftop with my teammates. I’m trying to cherish every water buffalo I pass, every herd of sheep that causes a traffic stop. 

 

It makes me quite sad to be honest. 

 

My teammate and friend Luke asked me earlier today if I ever had felt nostalgia for something while it was still happening. That so perfectly describes what I’m experiencing right now. 

 

 

 

Earlier this morning I was running on the road from our village to the next. I finally approached the point at which we usually turn around when it happened: I just froze. I couldn’t run anymore. 

 

Now part of this sudden halt I attribute to the thick wall of humidity we constantly fight against on these morning runs. But it was something else—something deeper—that really stopped me in my tracks. 

 

At the turn around spot, I looked back at the mile and a half of Indian road that I had just conquered and came to the sudden realization that I hadn’t taken any time to pay attention to the beauty that had been surrounding me. 

 

I had been so focused on hurrying to get done with the job at hand that I had forgotten to experience the life happening around me on the way. 

 

If this sounds familiar to you, it’s probably because this is the second time I’m blogging about this same exact thing. In my post “The Place Beyond the Reeds” I spoke about how we often see a destination and become so fixed on reaching it that we forget to take in the moments that are occurring around us along the journey. 

 

So, here I am—half a world away—and God is still having to remind me of the same thing. 

 

But it’s a process, I suppose; God is constantly having to refine me. This physical journey that I’m embarking on is simultaneously so completely spiritual in its nature. And day by day I’m coming to the revelation that life isn’t nearly as much about the destination as we tend to believe it is. 

 

 

 

I walked a great majority of the way back to our village this morning. 

 

I took my time because I made a conscious effort to enjoy every single second that I had left; I decided it was time for my run to become a walk.

 

I wanted to have more time to laugh at the 3 person tuk-tuk filled with 10 people; more time to wave at that water buffalo herder; more time to watch the meticulous work ethic of the rice farmer; more time to marvel at the unfathomable amount of cow, goat, and buffalo poop decorating the road; more time to gaze off into the great beyond of the Indian countryside.

 

 

And although I can’t actually create more time, I can be more intentional with the way I spend the little time that I do have. 11 months may seem like quite a long time, but I’m learning that it can easily fly by if you aren’t paying attention—if you aren’t making sure to slow down.