Day to Day:
All Girls Month:
7.30am alarms. The echoing voices of 34 girls preparing for the day. A mile and a half walk — a different companion every day. Praying, journalling, listening from 10.00am to 11.00am. Street soccer, slum ministry, bus rides, bars, long walks. Home again around 5.00pm. The inviting warmth of a coffee shop —a book, a blog, a best friend. Dinner around 7.00pm. Team time — freezing basement ((better known as the Dungeon)) edition. Sleeping bag cuddles with Ally on the twin mattress we share. Repeat.
Salsa Verde:
Really for the first time since being on the Race, not one day mimicked the other!! One week we went to two different slums throughout the day to pray for people and hang out with kids. One week we taught English to women who are escaping prostitution. One week I was able to be part of a book-writing team; a book which is now in the process of being published. One week we visited a leprosy hospital/community. Dinner around 6.30pm, served on plates with a 4inch circumference, sitting on stools so short that our noses barely appear above the table. Team time — wherever-it-happens edition. Snuggles with Lydia on the ((wait for it)) queen size mattress we share ((an upgrade, people!!)).
Moments I Would Pause:
Kitchen giggles. Annie wiping out in front of thirty Nepali women. Uninterrupted hours of solitude at coffee shops on off days. Dusty, chaotic games of soccer on Wednesday afternoons; followed by plates of rice and a last-minute Bible skit. Team dinners ((nothing new here)). Hours of bus rides, headphones in. All girls month — loud, no sleep, smiles upon smiles. Resuming Taco Tuesdays. Shabbat Shalom. Sujan and Saran. Along those lines, continually teasing Sujan about having a crush on any and every World Racer he talks to. Attempting to teach English and realizing how ridiculously NOT straightforward our language is. Paying $4 for a hot shower. New Life Church. The pillow-heaped circle chair on the third floor. The Lazy Gringo ((dang good Mexican food!!)).
A Tribute to My Teammates:
A lot of World Race teams might consider themselves “exceptional” or “unique.” Well. Did they wash each other’s feet and speak truth over each other that first night in Swazi? Did they go all out for Halloween in Lesotho — costumes, themed Avalon, a specialized playlist? Did they survive India’s eight hour night bus FOUR times? Did they go to the Taj Mahal on New Year’s? Did they live in a freezing, unheated basement for a month in Nepal’s winter? Nope. Do they love each other as fiercely as my team? Doubtful.
For the past 6 months, I have lived with six other girls. We hold very little in common other than the fact that we love the Lord with all we have. And consequently, we are able to love each other too. We are able to love each other exactly in who we are: unfinished, fractured, flawed.
I know that I don’t have words to explain accurately how much Salsa Verde means to me. Mags, Gracie, Nata, Teri, Mads, and Liddy have pushed me toward Christ and held my hand through the rough days. I’m so thankful for each of them and all of our collected memories and lessons.
So here’s to the demonic corner, Brigita, the meal-time questions, Amigo, Riverdale, our Christmas party, Taco Tuesdays, lice, the rooms that we have turned into homes, and everything in between. Here’s to Natalie’s messy bun, Annie’s sleep talking, Grace’s cornflake addiction, Maddie’s feedback dominance, Lydia’s compulsive sweeping, and Maggie’s circus music. Here’s to the laughs, the tears, and the dance parties. Here’s to Salsa Verde/Awakening. Forever and ever, amen.
All my love, P.
