So here we are… month 11.
I’m exhausted.
I’m terrified of the end.
And I’m writing a self-pity blog… again (I’ve regressed).
As my slightly-more-excited-than-me teammates continually remind me, we have 30 days left. 30 days till this crazy little thing called the World Race is over and we go home.
That’s nuts.
I can’t tell you where the last 10 months of my life have gone; like a hazy dream, it’s gone by in the blink of an eye.
And here I am, sitting in Romania in a beautiful lodge on our little commune where orphans live with foster families in little houses and they grow their own food and everybody loves each other and puppies roam free (basically my utopia) and I’m stewing in frustration. I’m trying to find the balance between not freaking out about going home and my complete lack of future plans and trying to be present and pour out everything I have left here, and as a result, because I handle stress about as well as a toddler, I’ve been snapping at the people I like the most.
But I’m going to be ok.
Or so they tell me.
One of the most encouraging things anyone has said to me was from Laura Finley (from my last team). She said, “I love watching you struggle with life because I know that when it’s all over you’re going to come out of it with a deep revelation of God.”
So there it is. If you want to pray for me, I’d be ok with that.
Also, if you know any ministry opportunities in Central America, I’ve got nothing else to do and I’m currently learning Spanish.
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Also, one of my best friends, Sarah Graley, is leaving on the World Race in September. She’s working on raising support right now, so if you would like to help her life get rocked too you can visit her blog here to donate through her page.