I’m sitting here in Rwanda. 273 days have passed since I left home for the World Race. 52 days left until I fly back to the United States.
And if I’m honest my thoughts are constantly being inundated with images of “somewhere else”:
Flashbacks of sprinting through Ethiopia’s green fields with close friends, dance in my minds’ canvas.
Images of embracing my family for the first time in 11 months flutter across my mind.
Various kids I have met along the way that had become fast friends and I had to suddenly leave behind also scurry through my thoughts.
Talking in the kitchen for hours with my brothers and sister-in-law.
Trekking up the Himalaya mountains sharing joy for God’s beauty with close friends.
Walking into my church for the first time in 11 months and worshiping with my church family.
Driving into various Indian villages to preach the gospel and pray over God’s people with my beloved tent family.
Running with my mom and 2 dogs up a local mountain.
Seeing pig heads flop behind mottos among the hustle and bustle of the streets of Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
Sitting on top of a roof under the stars in Nepal praying and dreaming with my sister.
Having sleepovers with my cousin and staying up all night just talking.
Being bombarded with “hello teecha, I love you!” from beloved school kiddos in Cambodia.
Parking myself at a local coffee shop in my home town catching up with sweet friends.
Riding on top of the bus with the wind slashing against my ears in Haiti (and seeing goats run in front of the bus barely escaping their death).
Skiing down a powder filled slope with my family and looking to my right to see my brothers launch themselves off 20 foot cliffs…
And then this image crosses my mind:
?
…this represents my current mornings, walking hand latched with local school children down the red dirt path to and fro school.
Sometimes I just want to be home.
And sometimes I just want to go back to certain countries I have been to on the Race.
But what I have been recently negating is the NOW.
My current now (as of 10-12-18) is a village area outside Kigali, Rwanda. And if I am outside of my “somewhere else” mindset, Rwanda is probably one of my favorite countries thus far. The people are beyond welcoming. Everyday we walk to a local kindergarten school where we teach English for 3.5 hours. In the afternoons we get to help repair our hosts’ (who is a pastor) church so that it can reopen. Hundreds of Christian churches have been shut down by the government 8 months ago due to “not proper buildings” (this is just an excuse because the government is not fond of the church). So this is the reason why construction for the church is so vital at this time. Our host’s congregation has not been able to have fellowship with one another for the past 8 months. They went from the church doors being opened 7 days a week to 0 days a week.
On the weekends we attend and sometimes preach at various local churches. We live in a safe village and have the freedom to leave whenever we want. We go on gorgeous red dirt runs and get flocked with local children eager to run with us in their sandals. Our host serves us some of the most flavorful food I have had in the past 9 months. Our host is full of life and sarcasm translating to us being in constant laughter. And we get to stay with the sweetest family, 5 kids and many extended family members.
Simply put, we are spoiled and beyond blessed.
My point is this: sometimes we can get caught up in the “somewhere else” and not see the NOW that is right before our very eyes. “Somewhere else” is not bad, God wants us to remember where we have been and what is to come. However when the “somewhere else” robs the NOW is when we may have to take a moment and reevaluate all that we can be thankful and joyful about in the present NOW. For the first week in Rwanda I am convicted of my “somewhere else” captivating my thoughts and robbing the joy that God has for me in the NOW. I desire greatly to not have it rob me again so I am seeking Jesus for passion and fire for my NOW because I know that some day soon this NOW will become a “somewhere else”.
Live loved,
Micaela
