Stay present.
That’s the most important lesson that AIM tried to nail home. They said it repeatedly at Training Camp. They talk about it at debriefs. It’s so engrained in me that when I’m struggling to stay present, I feel like I’m failing at the race.
And yet…
Here I am in month five struggling to be present.
In the past five months I’ve spent the night in 6 different countries, 14 different buildings, and one plane. I frequently wake up in the morning and have no idea where I am.
But I’m expected to stay present.
As a racer, it’s common to ask or hear the question, “What country are we in again?” Because we really did forget for a brief second.
But I’m expected to stay present.
I lie awake at night scrolling through pictures on my phone, thinking it will remind me of where I’ve been and where I am. But I see picture after picture of kids I’ve fallen in love with, places that have touched me, and reminders of home. And that’s when it hits me that my heart is being broken into pieces and scattered around the world.
But I’m expected to stay present.
This journey flips my life upside down each month. Where I live, what I eat, who I live with, what I do… it all changes. Each and every month. And it wears on me. It’s so unsettled that the one thing I start to crave is consistency. And I know where I can find it… at home. Which is currently thousands of miles away from here.
But I’m expected to stay present.
I try and comfort myself and think, “Home will be here soon enough.” Then I realize that this journey is only about halfway over… and then the pain comes. The ache in my heart and the doubt in my mind that says, “That is way too long.” So I lie awake for hours, imagining home and praying my dreams – when I finally find sleep – will take me there.
But I’m expected to stay present.
It’s hard to stay present – in the “here” – when I don’t even know where “here” is. Nine times out of ten I have no idea where my heart is, why it’s there, or how it got there. Let alone what city I’m physically in.
But I’m expected to stay present anyway.
And if I’m honest, I don’t know what that means or how to do it. But I do know that I’m still here (wherever that is). And I’m still pushing through. Some days that means doing awesome things for the Kingdom, some days that means just finding the strength to get up in the morning.
And what I’d like to say is that I’m here and I know who’s with me. I know who will carry me through this.
Even when everything – everything – around me changes I know that God won’t. Throughout these 11 months I will be in a place where He will literally be the only thing that remains constant.
But if I’m honest, I sometimes doubt that too. And that dark voice in my head questions, “Is God enough to get you through this? Is God worth getting through this?”
As much as my heart aches for home, as much as my heart desires consistency, I want my heart to long for God even more. So I keep pushing. I keep fighting to be “here” because “here” is where He is – I know that. And deep down I ultimately know that’s where I want to be, too. Even when it’s hard. Even when it hurts. Even though I feel like I’m failing. Because in the depths of my heart, at the core of my being, I believe that the One who never fails is with me – pushing me through. And that’s got to be enough, because it’s all I have.
