The World Race feels like a dream.
it’s a strange feeling.
it’s real weird having those moments of like
it’s real weird having those moments of like
what the hellll just happened.
How could I have possibly lived such a life as that then all of a sudden
be sitting in Kingwood, Texas in a Junior College… and drinking water out of the faucet.
Insanity.
I am not the most brilliant person when it comes to dealing with my experiences.
I adapted so easily from jumping from country to country that all of a sudden
Hellooo Americaaa and I just become reacclimated to it easily.
I am not the type of girl that talks about it.
I wish I would but I feel like I have been borderline annoying when I say things like
“One time in Australia..”
or
“Oh my lanta that reminds me of this one crazy time in Mozambique, Africa”
I just feel like it’s not a big deal anymore.
Hey that could be definition of pride.
I kinda want to be a big deal still.
I want to be the girl that went on this crazy trip and people want to hear her experiences.
Nope, it doesn’t happen.
I’m just the normal girl again.
I feel like there should be a healthy way to process the World Race both
verbally and internally.
I haven’t found it yet.. but it’ll be found.
This weekend has been so refreshing for me.
Me and two of my tight friends-Cait and Tessa-packed up and roadtripped up to Kansas to
surprise our friend Sarah who I hadn’t seen since pre-race.
The whole weekend has just been so good.
Sarah went to India last month and Cait had gone this past summer…
It was so good to sit around and chat about everything we’ve seen and it just be normal.
It felt normal to sit and cry about street kids and beggers and it be kosher.
It felt acceptable to get passionate and irate at the thought of traffickers and pimps.
My passion has been reignited.
God knew that I needed this and He has blown me up.
We have sat in our sweatpants all weekend and just reminisced on why the hell
the Lord of the universe has blessed us in such a way that we get to go to the nations.
That we get to be the mother to the motherless.
That we get to speak truth into those that are told selling their bodies is what they were made for.
That we get to look into the eyeballs of little rambuncious street kids and intercede for their souls.
That we get to carry the very Spirit of the living God every single place we go.
Blows. My. Mind.
I can’t comprehend it which borderline pisses me off…
I want to understand the Lord.
But He subtly reminds me that if I understood Him it would defeat the whole purpose of faith.
I am just obsessed.
and I cannot wait to see what He has planned.
I desire to seek His heart for the rest of my life…
to let him use my body has a vessel to
heal the brokenhearted.
clothe the naked.
embrace the widows.
feed the hungry.
house the homeless.
i want to do it all.
I joke that I feel like the Lord has given me O-negative blood when it comes to the Kingdom..
I honestly don’t care where the hell I am I just want to do something.
Duh I love Africa but there is so much need EVERYWHERE in the world…that wherever He leads i’ll go.
Just show me Lord.
After exchanging stories between laughs and tears this weekend
I have come to the conclusion that there have been SO many things I have experienced
that I haven’t thought twice about since they went down.
There is no way to truly engrave and learn from every single thing that happened in 11 months.
I had this random idea to go back through my entire year slowly
and go through every months experiences.
I want to write down the names of people I met and things that I saw.
I want to write down every detail of the babies that I wanted to go back and kidnap.
I want to write down the emotions I felt of the men that I wanted to decapitate because of their sick choices.
Down to the sick smells of slums in India or the delightful smells of mango’s in Australia.
just anything and everything about the year.
I legit just don’t want to forget anything.
We’ll see what comes from there…
Until then, I’m gonna seek His heart.
