Back in my European days, I thought trains were a bumpy, annoying ride {although the nostalgia and "european-ness seemed to make up for it. I was on a train in Europe, for cryin' out loud!}.
Well, I just experienced a whole meaning of the word 'bumpy'. Also the words 'time' and 'schedule' are entirely thrown out the window. A 12-hour bus ride through of first African country, Tanzania, turned into 17, and our second 6-hour bus ride turned into 9. What in the world. My butt will officially hurt for at least a few days, and my arms and back are still stiff from trying to hold myself in place and not hit my head on the ceiling during the leaps and bumps–I kid you not! I mean, I didn't think I was paying for a Safari, but I got one anyway {and yes, we did see wild-life: Zebras, Water Buffalo, Elephants, Gazelle, Giraffes}. Added blessing to take our mind off of the chaos, I suppose. At one point, I decided to just surrender and put my hands in the air, pretending I was on a roller-coster back at Universal Studios, Orlando. Might as well, right?
Just embrace it. Choose joy. That's what we always tell ourselves. But I won't lie; at first I was like,
"Seriously, God?! This has to be some stupid joke.
Where is the hidden World Race camera??"
I literally think I heard Him say back,
"Nope, no joke. Real life. Embrace it, child.
Also, check out the great view to your right."
Well, okay thennnnnn.
{With a few loud sighs interjected, of course.}
So I started to calm down and breathe a bit. Then, I really just rellished in the immense humor of it all, the humor of God: bags falling everywhere from the overhead storage "compartments", the most intense body odor one's ever smelled, the deep red dust blowing in the open windows and leaving reminance all over our sticky, sweat faces. Squatty potty bathroom breaks in the bush with pricklies touching our butts. No shame–everywhere saw everything.
The previous day was interesting too. We were going to leave our mini-debrief site right at 5 a.m. outside of the city of Dar Es Salam, Tanzania, where our plane landed. The bus hired to transport all 33 of us was the most miniscule thing I've ever seen. So what do we do? Embrace it. Choose joy. So we started shucking our heavy packs up to the guys on the roof of the bus, but there were no bar racks to hold them in place, so I was curious to see how they were going to tie them all down.
Also, how the heck we were going to make our game of "Sardines" work for atleast 12 hours without someone punching someone else. Of course, it wasn't going to happen, so we waiting another 6 hours for a larger bus to come try. Thankful there's generally always a plan-B.
In that time period of waiting, I read nearly half of "Traveling Mercies–Some Thoughts on Faith" by Anne Lamott, and it began to shift things in my tired, achey spirit, things I'd carried from a few days earlier, a few months earlier, and maybe even most of my life; things like jealousy, remorse, anger, comparison–all the things that are desires of the flesh and always always always rob us of joy–the thins the enemy loves us to feel. So all of THAT, carried onto an over-crowded bus with an attitude problem on my left, loud music on my right, bitterness in my heart and even tears in my eyes, I pressed into God and read. What else can you do on a 12-hour bus ride that turns into 17, with swollen ankles and a swollen, hurting heart?
You press the heck in and keep breathing, that's what! So I did. I chose to press in and take stock of my heart, and little by little, Grace kept flowing in, accompanied by its close friend Peace. It made me think of one of my new favorite scriptures somewhere in the Psalms that says, "Seek peace & pursue it". What does that mean–to pursue a thing like peace? I don't know, but it's been my montra and life-theme lately.
So I'm doing that, more and more each day, and it seems to combat the enemy and his schemes. And although I don't know what it looks like, I hope and pray for it the way Africans do the rain during a drought. And so it will come–eventually.
What a bus ride it was. No brakes, just bumps, bruises, tension, jelly sandwiches…and laughs.
But maybe that's what makes life a little more fun, eh?
Life isn't always fun, not even life on the World Race. But while I'm here, I want time for all "those long, deep breaths, time to watch more closely, time to learn and enjoy what I've always been afraid of–the sag and the invisibility, the ease of understanding that life is not about doing. Time for all those holy moments: to watch, smile, DANCE!"
Here's to stories for the grand-kids, and a heaping helping of peace and joy over the next 3 months.
Good to see you again, Africa. I missed you.
