Sweet family and friends,
I am so thankful for each of you. I’m thankful that you’ve kept up with my journey thus far. I’m thankful for the way you’ve loved me through reading these blogs and by sending me updates on your own journeys. I’m thankful that I have a support system back in the US who supports every moment of my mission here. I’m really uniquely fortunate to have you, and I don’t want that to go unsaid.
With that being said, within all of its sweet moments and incredible days, being here, 9,824 miles away from you, is also very hard. Being in a season away from my tribe has left me wrestling with abandonment, and feeling isolated. I’d like to take a moment to tell you about both why this is an terrible and incredible thing. I’m working on telling stories before I know the happy ending, so bear with me; this is a rather sad blog.
I was “in a funk” at our most recent debrief, but I couldn’t place why. “I miss home” or “I’ll miss my old team” didn’t feel like the right words. They felt empty and untrue. Something bigger was weighing on me. I wrote out Psalm 42. “Why are you downcast oh my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me…” I made a list, and one theme stood out.
Almost a year ago, I graduated college. At that point I knew I was going on the World Race, so I don’t know that I fully processed what it meant to say goodbye to the way of life I’d known for so long. I knew I’d be parting ways with those I’d known as my people for years, but I only had an intellectual understanding of what that would look like. The summer before leaving for the World Race, I felt like many of my closest friendships were falling apart. Whether a change of residence, a friend moving permanently across the country for work, or even a falling out with those I care deeply about, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing something. I felt overwhelmingly like something was breaking. This was for the best. I could almost audibly hear God say “these things are being taken from you so that you can more fully invest in the next thing I have for you.” I trusted that to be true, but it still hurt a lot.
Just over a week ago in Nelspruit, I received a new team. After 6 months of exhausting, important and inspiring time with my new family, we were asked to separate and bring what we’d learned to new teams. After loving each other, sometimes hating each other, and always fighting for each other, we are no longer with each other. My new team is incredible (Ellie just came and kissed my forehead when she saw I was crying writing this) but I am grieving my old team too. I could almost audibly hear God say “the next 5 months with your new team will grow and shape you in ways you couldn’t dream about.” I trust that to be true, but it still hurts a lot.
I started to realize that what I was really grieving was the permanence of relationships as they are. This isn’t unique to the World Race, but being away certainly magnifies the lesson. I am sad knowing that many people I knew as mine are now less so. I am sad knowing that when I return, the life I’ve known won’t be there anymore. I’m sad knowing that the relationships I have grown and built and poured into so fiercely will never look the same. I can almost audibly hear the Lord saying “those relationships were gifts given at the opportune time, but holding onto them the same way wouldn’t be sustainable or healthy.” I trust that to be true, but it still hurts a lot.
Now, I have enough self awareness and past experience to confidently hope that when I get home I will rebuild a new kind of community that will know me. I know that I have an incredible family who loves me incredibly well. I know I’m hugely privileged to live where I do and with the people I love. I know all of these things to be true. In month four, I received feedback from a sweet friend. She said “you carry truth beautifully. Just because you know what is true, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t express the feelings that may be lies.” I can trust all these things to be true, but they can still hurt a lot.
Thanks for taking a moment to join me as I divulge a painful part of this journey. I sat down expecting to write a completely different blog. A more practical update is on it’s way, but although uncomfortable, this felt important. Thank you for reading, and I hope this can be an encouragement to fellow racers who may be feeling similarly in this season.
Love Always, Rachel.
