Racers all over the U.S. prepare to embark on a year’s long sojourn in the world – in less than a weeks time. As they do this, a wide range of conflicting emotions converge on their senses. Cat Pollock illustrates the emotional climate for a racer in the week leading up to their launch. Please pray for them as finish everything up at home and commence their journey.
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Written in my journal before leaving for college, a few years ago: It’s not much longer now until I leave for Flagstaff, for NAU and all of the unknowns lying ahead. Calm is generally how I look, but inside my stomach is twisted like a wash cloth being squeezed out of its last precious droplets of water. More and more of my life is disappearing into boxes and bags, being prepared for a life I am suddenly not at all sure I am ready for. I don’t even know who my roommate is supposed to be, for pity’s sake.And here I am, getting ready to tell James about what I’m doing. What am I doing?
We sit down on the couch, and I start to speak out what he has to have known for weeks now, but I am only just now finding the words to tell him. I’m not shaking, there’s nothing in my face or my gestures that should be giving away what I’m feeling… but he knows. He knows, and he reaches for my hand, and squeezes it for the briefest of seconds, then holds it for a minute longer.
It’s going to be okay, Cat, he’s saying without saying a word. It’s going to be fine.
And it was fine. Flagstaff and NAU were a big step for me, but God provided… just like He always does. My first year, an RA who was unashamedly Christian and intent on making sure I didn’t get lost in the dusty tomes that often consume history majors. Really, a building of Christian RAs who were unashamed. That same year, a small group who walked with me through one of the hardest years of my life and in my relationship with God.
Here I am, once again making a big step out, and tonight my stomach is in that same twisted knot. I can hear God whispering those same words. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be fine.But I want that touch. That very physical sign of comfort and reassurance… that I’m not losing my mind, and if this looks like I’m going crazy, then it’s okay because it’s for Jesus.
I want it, but is it really what I need? God’s already told me it’s going to be fine. On a good day, I think fine is an understatement. It’s going to be amazing. If this was a good day, that would be enough.
Tonight it’s not.
It’s not, but I’m praying it will be soon.
