11 months have come and gone way more quickly than I could’ve ever anticipated. In 4 very short days I’m going to be lying in my very own bed in a room with my very own closet full of more than two pairs of pants and my very own air conditioning. I’ll suddenly have 24-hour access to all my favorite foods and places and people.
This should be the MOST exciting thing I’ve ever heard, right?
To be completely honest, it’s not always. Some days I’m counting down the seconds, but others I find myself weepy over leaving this life behind. It’s a really weird place to be! The truth is I no longer need those things. I’ve grown to be unbelievably grateful for them. But I’ve learned that they aren’t necessary.
We’ve lived through Southeast Asian heat without A/C. We’ve survived 11 months without hot water, sometimes without running water at all. We’ve toted our belongings around in 60-liter packs and learned how to be resourceful with things like hand washing laundry. We’ve been held hostage on a bus for 24 hours and been evacuees of a Drug Lord’s bomb threats. We’ve eaten things we couldn’t identify and things that would make any stomach churn. And I’ve had the extra lucky privilege of parasites and Delhi belly, although these I won’t miss so much.
The reality is I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat, even if it’s just for one sweet kid in the Cambodian slums or one girl enslaved in sex-trafficking in Thailand. Knowing everything I know and every hard thing I’d have to walk through, I’d do every second over.
Because as much as I love comfort (and nachos and a good washing machine), I love God so much more. And I’ve learned that comfort does not equal happiness or even security. I’ve found more joy in some of the poorest places, and I’ve seen more peace in some of the most broken people.
Every month my heart has been broken in ways I couldn’t imagine. I’ve fallen in love with cultures and people that are very different than my own, only to say goodbye four weeks later. And while I know I’ve been able to taste only an ounce of how deeply and vastly God loves us, it’s more than enough for me. He’s taught me to see people how he sees them: worthy and loved and redeemed. He’s allowed me to feel the same hurt he feels when we’re hurting. And he’s shown me the joy he has for us always, no matter what. I’ve seen the spiritual world in a whole new light, both the good and the ugly.
I will have the people I’ve encountered etched into my heart forever. And I’ll continue to intercede and rally them on in prayer, hopeful that the Lord will allow me return to them one day.
But for now, what’s next?
Honestly, I have NO idea. Not a clue. In Month 2, it was all I could do not to buy a plane ticket home ASAP and forget the Race entirely. In Month 5, I thought I’d get home and return immediately to the mission field. In Month 8, my home life changed drastically and I felt the Lord calling me home post-Race. So I began working diligently to prepare a website portfolio and beautiful resume to apply for design jobs. My computer died right smack in the middle, and I no longer had the fancy pants design programs I need to build a website or resume. In Month 10, I began scouring the internet for jobs in Nashville and could picture myself in several vastly different places. And then the Lord told me very clearly to wait. The worst, right?! Most of my peers are being hired for dream jobs and planning their return to the mission field, and I’ve been told to sit around and not worry about it. Perfecto. No hay problema.
So as the world’s biggest planner and a little bit of a control freak, I’m entering my next season without a single plan.
And y’all, (most of the time) it feels GREAT! I feel like I’ve been told I can do anything I want. Maybe that’s entering back into the design field. Maybe I’ll go the non-profit route and lead mission trips or rescue women from sex trafficking. Maybe I’ll go to seminary or go to school for art therapy. Maybe I’ll end up back in Colombia. Or Vietnam. Or the Middle East. At this point I really just don’t know, but I trust wherever God plans to lead me and I plan to wait patiently with open palms.
This year I’ve found so much freedom in the unknowns. It all started with the willingness to surrender my independence and follow a crazy opportunity to backpack for a year with no income and dependence only on God’s provision. It was so scary, but it has grown to be my safe haven. I couldn’t raise $18,000. I didn’t want to leave the life I had built for myself. And I certainly didn’t want to live in 24-hour community with a bunch of people I didn’t choose. But those people have become family, my life at home feels foreign, and fundraising turned out to be the most humbling experience, ever.
Our society tells us unknowns are the places we’re most vulnerable to failure. But God says the unknowns are where we become the most powerful through intimate dependence on him. And friends, after a year spent like that, I promise that is where you want to be.
I spent most of my life and the beginning of my Race living with a LOT of anxiety. I was fearful of how people might perceive me, and I cared too much about what they thought even if they didn’t know me even a little. I was prone to people pleasing and being whoever and whatever I thought people needed me to be. I was suffocating in this silly need to be loved and unsure of how to truly be who I am. My identity was found in the cool things I did: backpacking countries alone and having a cool graphic design job. I was always insecure because I never gave people the chance to really know ME.
But this year I’ve learned to live confidently in who God created me to be. To shed years of baggage and lies that told me I wasn’t good enough to be loved. To live fully through all the excessive giggles and all the quirkiness, even if people think I’m too much or not enough. I’ve learned to feel beautiful without the modern convenience of makeup and blow dryers. And I’ve learned to never, ever regret kindness. Ever. No matter what the world throws at you, no matter what people may say about you… if you walk forward in kindness, loving the way Christ did, you’ll be able to move forward in bold confidence.
And to every single person who has sponsored, supported, encouraged, prayed over, and rallied around me this year: THANK YOU. Words will never be enough for the gratitude I have for you. I couldn’t have done this without you. You’ve given me the greatest experience and allowed me to serve the nations on your behalf. I can’t wait to squeeze all of you and tell you allll the stories and incredible things. The generosity and encouragement and grace you’ve continued to show me has changed my heart forever.
