We’re in a current time where there’s a lot going on in everyone’s lives. It is recommended to stay away from other people. A true quarantine. Some people are taking this seriously, while others are not.
In order for me to process all that has happened, I need to write down and share some of my many thoughts.
First, I know that it will be ok, my faith in God and his plan has not waivered.
Second, even though the first is true. I’m not going to sugar coat my feelings with a happy go lucky and “everything is fine” face. This sucks, and I am grieving.
When I went to bed last Saturday night, I was at a guest house in Thailand. I shared a bed with my teammate, and we shared the room with another teammate. Our pillows were made of leather, and giant geckos serenaded us from outside the windows.
At that point in time, even with all the world’s updates, there was still a glimmer of hope that the race would continue.
This race that we fundraised over a year for, the race that I had been planning since I first heard about it in college. This race that had us spending the last three months in South America, the new culture, the new teams, the new people we would encounter, and the new things God would teach us in the next season.
Sunday
I woke up partially to the ding of my phone and partially to my teammate’s hand on my shoulder as I rolled over. “We’re going home,” she says. “Ok,” I say as I roll back over, but a heaviness begins to settle within my soul.
Throughout the day we get update after update. They’re pulling everyone off the field. We don’t have a flight. We need to be in Bangkok by Tuesday. We will know more soon.
The rest of the day is spent in a haze. Most of us start packing. Bus tickets are bought for the next night.
Monday
Our last day with our friends in Thailand. Somehow in the midst of this, the plans for the elephant sanctuary haven’t changed and we get to go. We pile into the back of the truck and one of my teammates starts to cry. It feels weird to be on our last adventure day together. In true world race fashion (which is as random as it gets)…turns out the elephants were actually just over the border in Myanmar (Burma). We get to Burma and meet the elephants. We walk them to the waterfall, help bathe them, and they show us the tricks they’ve been taught. Then, we think we’re heading to lunch. Turns out it’s another random waterfall. Then lunch.
We get back, finish packing, walk to bubble tea, and say our goodbyes at 8:30 pm. We get dropped off at the bus station and head to Bangkok.
Tuesday
Overnight, we find out that our flight will be leaving in the evening, around 10 pm. We’ll have less than 12 hours in Bangkok before heading to the airport.
We arrive in Bangkok around 5 am – we arrange for a “Grab” (like uber or lyft) to pick us up. While walking to catch the car, I misstepped right into a pothole. My ankle immediately swells, throbs, and bruises. Less than 12 hours left on the World Race and I have managed to sprain my ankle. We make it to the Airbnb our friends are staying at… but most of the squad is spread out throughout the city. After a quick nap… I hobble to meet some friends for coffee and then spend the rest of the day just being with people at the Airbnb.
Turns out that because of the last-minute flights, not all of us are even on the same flight. Our itineraries split in two as did our hearts. Some will leave around 6pm and layover in Tokyo. My group was to leave around 10pm and layover in Abu Dhabi. We say our goodbyes to those around us. Up until this point, there’s supposed to be a short debrief together as a group in NYC. As the situation escalates, the debrief is canceled and we’re all encouraged to find ways “home” as quickly as possible.
Wednesday
This Wednesday will go down as one of the longest Wednesdays in my life. We board our plane in Bangkok around 1:30am. It’s a 7-hour flight to our layover. I am blessed to have many amazing squad-mates help carry my 50-pound bag and 30-pound day pack, as my ankle was causing quite the limp.
After our short layover, complete with US customs and multiple security checks, we board the 14-hour flight to NY.
This flight holds a lot of emotions. We aren’t the only squad on the flight that is leaving the field. About ½ way through the flight, they call over the intercom for any certified doctors or nurses on board…..Unclear as to why. Then towards the end of the flight, they walk through with hazmat suits and thermal imaging to check each person’s temperature on board. We are met at the gate by an ambulance for the two medical emergencies onboard (neither of which were Corona Virus as far as I know).
As we land, people begin to disperse immediately. Our squad mentor is there to greet us after baggage claim. Many squad-mates quickly ran off to catch their connecting flights. Several quick goodbyes were said…many went to try and change their flights. Some were successful, others were not. You didn’t know if goodbye was really goodbye.
A community of almost 40 people, broken into smaller teams. We lived together 24/7 these last 8 months. Now, in an instant, we’re all spread out with no formal ending. That’s it. It’s been 8 months and I have no idea when I’ll see anyone again.
Those of us that were left head to the hotel for the “night.” The first round of people were supposed catch the shuttle to the airport at 4 am.
At the hotel, we ordered Chipotle. We stood waiting for the food in the lobby. Then the first parent arrives… the mom of one of my old teammates, whose family lived close, she walked into the lobby with welcome home signs and hugged her son. That was the moment many of us realized it was actually over. This was it. Not a dry eye in the room as we said our goodbyes. After he left and our food came and we all sat down to eat. Our first meal together in America was something we had discussed for months. I remember us sitting in Africa, eating sadza (a maize-based dish) for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, or sitting in Asia eating rice for the 7th day in a row. We dreamed about our first meal back in America. Let me tell you… a Doordash order of Chipotle wasn’t what we dreamed (at least not most of us lol). We couldn’t even enjoy it all together because we were reminded that the rule in NY is no gatherings of 10 or more. That’s not the way I thought my first meal back would be. It only got weirder from there on out. We’re instructed to head to our separate rooms for the first video conference call for those of us there left.
Thursday
I thought about sleeping… I really did. But as the world around me changed I knew sleep was the last thing I would be able to do. Luckily some of my other squad-mates were on the same page. We laughed, joked, and made tik tok videos until 3:30am. Close to 4am we left to send the first group off. I left in the second group on the 5am shuttle in a group of about 8. This was the first time I had to carry my bag on my busted ankle. By this time my ankle was all shades of purple and swollen.
It was raining… fitting for my mood. Walking in, the airport looked like a ghost town… the workers murmured that it hadn’t looked like this since 9/11. I go to check my bag but the couple in front of me has blocked the path. They just found out that all flights to their home country had been canceled and they were distraught in disbelief.
There were four of us from the race left in that terminal. One of my squad-mates got her bag flagged… we thought it was the leftover Chipotle she tried bringing through security…lol. After that mini fiasco, my friends grabbed breakfast and waited with me at my gate (so I didn’t have to walk as far on my ankle). We sat down and played one last round of Monopoly Deal. A World Racer from a different squad that launched with us was in the same terminal. He sat with us and we all swapped stories and played right up until my time to board. I walked in and sat in my almost empty flight. Alone for the first time in a long time. 5 hours later, I landed in LA, which was also a ghost town. I waited patiently for my hotel shuttle. When I arrived to the hotel there were signs all over the lobby about social distancing. No restaurant was open except for takeaway. I laid down in my bed around 2pm and fell asleep.
Friday
Jet lag means I woke up at like 3 or 4 am. At 6 I went to pick up the breakfast… the continental breakfast room was shut down… we had to take food away and back into our rooms. As I left, I held the elevator for the lady behind me. She refused to get in.
I went back to my room and attempted to make a plan.
Where should I go? An Airbnb? My Dads? A hotel?
I started processing the loss.
Never again will I travel 20+ hours on a bus with those friends.
I won’t be going to Machu Picchu with them.
I thought of all the fundraising, the praying, the physical and mental preparation, and just like that it was all over.
No more trip.
Ok……So, I’m back. Now what.
I have no car. No place to live (long term). No job. And no idea what will happen in the next month.
When thinking of life’s uncertainty, I know we’re all in the same boat.
But, I still have so much heaviness on my heart as I grieve what was lost.
Saturday
More of the same. It seemed like wasting money on an Airbnb (many of them I reached out to never even responded) was not a real viable option.
I will head to my Dad’s tomorrow.
Sunday
My Dad moved while I was on the race. Nothing is familiar.
All the ideas of coming home and meeting up with friends and processing the race…. None of those are real.
My favorite coffee shops are closed. Everyone is living in isolation.
Not only that but the community that I hoped to come back to has been shut indoors. No hugs, no coffee dates, no acro on the beach, a very different world than I left and I am still struggling to acclimate to this new reality.
This is what I came back to.
Monday
Here I am. I know that it will be ok. I know that it will all work out. I trust in the Lord’s plan.
Exactly one year ago today, I held the fundraiser for my trip.
But …there’s something I learned this year (in addition to feedback and a million other things learned). I’m reminded to feel your feelings. Don’t live in them. Don’t let them run your life. But feel them and give them to God.
Psalm 34:17-18 says:
The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
he delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
It says they cry out… not that they plaster a happy face on and pretend everything is OK. Not that they bury their thoughts and feelings because “we’re supposed to trust God with everything.” That IS trusting God… to tell him your feelings, your disappointments, and your anger. Give him all of you. Don’t hide those feelings because he already knows the depths of your hearts.
The Bible also says in Matthew 5:4…
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Again… Blessed are those who mourn.
My heart aches during this time. Not just for selfish reasons… for the loss of a season of life… but for all those I encountered these last 8 months.
I went to clinics in Africa. I went to clinics in Asia. I pray most of all for safety in the nations that I came from. Because they aren’t AT ALL prepared for this virus.
Here I am back in the United States… and although we’re separated across the nation, I know my squad-mates all have access to modern medical care.
My friends across the world don’t all have the same luxury. I left the field where many of these countries don’t have access to even half the amount of ventilators and masks that we do here in the states. I pray for safety and protection for them.
If you want to ask me… “how was your trip?” I don’t have the answer. But if you give me time and understanding, I would love to tell you about my life these past 8 months. About all the things I’ve seen and the stories I have. I hope I have changed. I hope you don’t recognize me. I hope I allowed the many people I encountered into my heart and alter the way I do things for the better.
But right now, I am grieving. And I ask you to let me grieve.
And in the midst of my mourning, as Matthew says, I will be comforted best by the Father.
Only then will I heal.
