It took 24 hours.
Sunday:
Our host drove us out of the city and into the beautiful mountains of Mongolia. We piled into 4 different vehicles. Although it was a tight squeeze, we made it work and laughed a lot on the way. Our first stop was near a river. We pulled off onto the side of the road and crossed what we called the Jordan River. We had lunch and church there. Chinzo’s message was about daily surrender. It was a message that I resonated with since that was what God was speaking into my life.
After our church service that entailed about 20 adults and a few adorable little ones, we had lunch. Then we packed up and headed even further into the mountainside. We pulled off again but this time, it was to climb rocks and boulders. A few of my teammates were on cloud 9 since we had been in cities for the past few weeks. We left and went horseback riding. Now, imagine yourself on a horse, alongside your friends. Picture yourself in the lush green mountains of Mongolia that span out as far as your eye can see. It’s late afternoon and the sun is high in the sky, you’re riding your horse and everything seems surreal. Yes, it’s better than what you’re imagining. After pretending to be cowboys and cowgirls, we sat down and a few of us shared what God had been teaching us. I spoke on how God was good. It’s always nice to share what God teaches you.
On our way home, the eldest of the church bought us an authentic Mongolian dish. This dish was bought off the side of the road but believe me when I say that it was delicious. It was sort of like an empanada with meat inside. Grease dripped from every bite but it was worth it.
Yeah, that was my last day on The World Race.
We got home, tired and ready to sleep since we had homeless ministry at 5 am the next day. I unwrapped my ankle and took off the gauze. Something was off. I tried to not panic. I tried to hold it together. But it was not good.
GOD, WHY?
I went into the bathroom, to wash off my foot. I sat down and was just staring. I was staring at my ankle in defeat, in misery, in shock, in despair, in confusion, in frustration.
WHY?
I didn’t know what to do. I needed someone. Something. Anything.
Katie was the first person I could get my arms around. I broke down and wept. She just held me. I wept like I did in the Kenya hospital. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stand up. I was broken.
My team came around me. I needed them. I needed God’s love.
I laid on the bed as people saw what I had seen. I wept. I wrestled with God:
“I fought so hard. You told me to stay on the Race. What are you doing? What are you allowing to happen? What did I do? How did I mess up. I’m sorry! Please heal me! Help me, Daddy! I need You! I’m so tired. I can’t do this. Make it stop. No more. Let this not be real. No! Why? I can’t do this. I can’t. This is so hard.”
My team went straight into prayer, into the Word, and into worship.
God gave me the reminder that He is teaching me to surrender. And this was a part of it.
I was frustrated.
I heard the sirens of an ambulance and feared going to the hospital again. AGAIN.
The ambulance wasn’t for me but Cori, Chris and I packed our bags and got ready to see a doctor. It was the middle of the night and I was numb. I started laughing because my left eye was swollen from crying. I also laughed because my team is a team of laughter and it didn’t take long before a joke of how I looked Asian was said. We all laughed. I left our apartment, not knowing anything except that we all needed to worship Him and pray.
The hospital was fine. Doctors somewhat knew what they were doing. Our host had driven us there and was our translator. Without him, we would have been so lost. Cori held my hand and Chris scratched my head. I just cried.
I walked out of the hospital with the results I did not want or even expect.
I barely slept that night.
Cori woke me up the next morning and walked with me to get wifi. I bought my plane ticket back to America.
I can’t say that I accepted my fate with open arms. I questioned everything. I questioned everything from God’s presence/existence to Him simply not listening to any of my prayers. I was in distress. I was numb. I was everything.
24 hours earlier, I was sitting in the mountains of Mongolia, listening to a sermon over daily surrender. I was sitting there with no clue of how my day would end or what God was calling me to surrender.
My World Race is over? Huh? That is hard to say.
I wasn’t looking forward to visiting more countries or doing more things. For me, The World Race has been a life shaping experience. Honestly, there are 5 reasons as to why it’s so hard to leave. My teammates. The five girls that I have shared my heart with. The five girls that cried with me. The five girls that have laughed with me. The five girls that I had a sisterhood with. I’ll miss my squad too. It’s the people that make The World Race what it is, not where we go or what we do. When I look back, I can only think of the relationships I’ve built and had to leave, not what my hands did.
But this is where God has me—going home and on my own race. It involves me surrendering everything, including my team. It’s me and God.
Truly, that’s where I feel God is leading me.
I’ll grieve leaving. I’ll be sad when I see pictures and hear stories. I mean, who wouldn’t want to partake in that? But I have my own race to run.
Only with God as my strength, can I do this.
Update: I went to the doctor today and she said my ankle is perfectly fine. Actually, the healing is “better than expected”. She sent me home with two thumbs up. I’m grateful.
