I’m halfway. I’ve completed more days on the race than I have left. The countdown (unfortunately) (subconsciously) begins. Only five more months. We are about to leave Africa and go to our last continent. Two continents down, one to go. Six months of the world race under our belts.
Asia, we’re ready for ya. The Philippines, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam.
And then, the good ole US of A. Who knows what that will bring.
This year has been everything (and more) than I could have ever asked for. And I still have half left.
I’m not the same person I was when I launched back in September that I am today. And in August, when I do touch my feet back on American soil, I won’t be the same person that I am today.
Because the journey that the world race takes us on changes everything. From the way we view careers, relationships, friendships, communication, and pretty much everything in between.
This journey is a year of transformation. Transformation to become more like Him, to become more in tune with the spirit and less in tune with earthly desires and worldly temptations.
With transformation comes a lot of pain, grief, and letting go. When I first left for the race, someone said if you change at all this year, make sure it’s for the better. Because everything about you is already great.
And while my thoughts were something along the lines of yeah, right but thanks, the race really does change us for the better. If we let it. Because I’ve seen first hand that even change and transformation are a choice.
But every day on the race is a choice. Every day on the race is a choice to trust in Him, to choose joy in the midst of chaos, and to put others far above myself. Everyday is a choice to let God do His thing, refining us to be greater, no matter how hard or how painful that is. I wake up exhausted, ready to go back to sleep at any glimpse of free time coming my way. But every day is a fight to put the exhaustion aside and continue to love those around me with everything I have, to do everything for His glory.
Every day is a choice to laugh through the unbearable, knowing that the bad moments will make great stories later.
The past two months have been full of lies from the enemy. That I’m not good enough, that I’m failing as a leader, and that I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. But lies, nonetheless.
This year, I’ve been blessed with some of the most incredible people walking alongside me. People that encourage me and check in on me but aren’t afraid to say the hard things, even when it hurts. People that I can be my awkward self with, with zero pressure to be anything except the woman that God called me to be.
For the first time in my life, there is no pressure to be anyone but me. Whoever me is. What freedom.
And each month I learn a little more about why I am the way I am. About the strength and the courage God gave me and the ways He asks me to live that out each day. About how my story, the testimony I never thought was good enough, was written with a purpose that I’m only now understanding.
