My teammate Erin wrote a great blog that expresses some of the fears and worries I have about coming home in ten short days. I think you are going to want to check it out.
(Since I haven't been writing.)
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In 12 short days, my feet will walk on the ground of my wild and wonderful West Virginia for the first time in almost a year. I’ll finally hug my parents, cry in the arms of my best friends, shower without shoes on, sleep in my princess bed, have traffic laws to obey, watch ESPN in English, and eat meals that don’t involve rice and beans. For the last two months I’ve regularly daydreamed what it will be like; what will it be like to fly over the mountains I’ve known my whole life, to walk off a plane into Yeager Airport, to claim my oversized airporter for the last time, and to begin the search for “Welcome Home” signs from my family and friends? I’ve imagined the feeling that I’ll get when I first see them, what will be rushing through my mind in the seconds between seeing them and embracing them, how the first hugs in 11 months will feel. What will be the first things we say? Will there even be words to fit the moment? Or will we simply hold each other in silent understanding?
Eleven months ago, my mind was also in a constant state of wonder; what will it be like to step on foreign soil for the first time? Will I see the Lord perform miracles on the Race? What will we eat? Where will we sleep? How the heck am I going to stay away from the ones I love for so long? Can I even really do this? Then, it began. Our long trek around the world began in the contrasts of the joyful yet dark Africa, a land I immediately connected with. Then we continued on to an extremely diverse Asia, a sophisticated and developed Europe, and finally the fun and carefree Central America.
And now, here I am at the end of my World Race. I’ve seen 17 countries in the last 11 months, encountered the Holy Spirit in new ways, been romanced and awestruck by my Creator, and lived alongside people all over the globe who serve the same huge and amazing God I do. I’ve persevered when I thought I couldn’t make it, literally stood on top of the world and gazed at seemingly unending landscapes, and, most importantly, fallen more deeply in love with my sweet Savior.
There have been days where I thought it would never end and there have been days where I wanted it to never end. Looking back, it all seems incredibly surreal.
Sometimes I find myself wondering: Did I dream it?
Was it a reality? Did all the things I’ve experienced, touched, smelled, struggled with, watched, felt, thought, mourned, eaten, prayed, questioned, and discovered actually happen? Are all the people I’ve seen, hugged, encouraged, served, loved, and laughed with real people with real lives?
I hope you’re not questioning my sanity. It’s just that as the truth is settling in that in a mere 12 days this season of life will be over, it’s so hard to believe that I could really have been this blessed and that I really could have been this crazy. It’s so hard to believe that God’s grace and love have been so lavished upon me as to grant me this experience that I have to slightly wonder whether or not I’m going to wake up all of a sudden and realize that I’ve made it all up in my mind. I mean really, WHO DOES THIS?!
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