"I can look in almost any direction and say, 'That's the way to go.' But I've learned, this is how to stay."- Andrea Gibson, Jellyfish.
Sometimes I forget that I can't out-dream God.
Our marketing lead and my writing coach, Meghan, asked me at the end of last month what I want to do when I get home. My first thought was, it's only month seven. My thought immediately following that thought was, holy crap, it's month SEVEN.
As I prepared to come on the Race, I dodged questions from older, more concerned supporters and friends about what exactly I planned to do when I got back from my journey around the world. (My family was actually great about this, and never once asked. Major points to you guys.)
Depending on my mood at any given moment, my responses ranged from "Move to Hawaii and learn how to surf," to "Stand in Walmart and weep" and "Sleep for a month." I felt like a contestant on Jeopardy, slapping the buzzer with a knee-jerk reaction: "What is, Have a Quarter-Life Crisis?"
Funny - none of those answers seemed to provide anyone with much comfort, least of all me.
In response to Meghan's question, I finally answered, "I want to get a writing job. One where I can work part-time from home, but also have an office in a community workspace. I want to be able to travel for stories. I want there to be coffee, palm trees outside my window and I don't want to have to wear shoes."
During our week-long stint in Albania during month two, I was walking back from town next to my squadmate Kris, talking about her love for the elderly. "I cannot wait to get to a season of life when I go can give to missionaries the way I've been given to. They gave to my trip because they knew they could no longer go - but I could. In a sense, they were trusting me to do it for them."
As she was saying this, I glanced at a tree on the side of the road, birds flying into its branches and settling into its shade. Something about this particular scene touched a deep place inside of me. "I wanna be like a tree," I blurted.
Kris looked at me, waiting.
"I mean, I want roots. I don't know. Is that weird?" I kicked a rock with my shoe, fighting the urge to chase it and kick it again. "I'm out here traveling the world, and this is exactly what I want right now. But I also want to be a tree. To be a safe place for birds to come to, to rest in. Right now, I'm a bird; I can go anywhere, as long as I have a few trees. Sometimes, though, all I can imagine is having stability and getting to that point where I can be a giver, instead of an asker."
And then God dropped an apple on my head. Literally.
Okay, not literally - that would have been beyond cool; but He more dropped an idea on my head. And ideas are a lot heavier than apples, let me tell you.
It was a Friday afternoon of this past month, and I was laying on the couch at a local lodge, reading Donald Miller's book Scary Close while the rest of our squad sat on Facebook. I think I've read this book at least eight times on the Race so far (what this habit says about me, feel free to interpret); but this go-round, one small, insignificant sentence stopped me dead.
"The rest of the time we laid around by the pond and read our friend Shauna Niequist's book Bread and Wine and wondered what it would be like to someday own a bed-and-breakfast where we cooked all the recipes from Shauna's book. Shauna makes everything sound - "
BOOM.
Lindsay made eye contact with me from across the room, expression mirroring mine, and very slowly took out her left earbud.
"You look like you just saw a ghost."
I continued to creepily stare at her for another long minute, eyes wide, wondering what I had just experienced.
What? God, you want me to what?!
I want you to open a bed-and-breakfast.
If you've never heard God speak to you before, then this concept will probably sound weird and vaguely Sci-Fi. But I know God's voice, and I know He said this.
The only thing I could think to ask in response was, "Uhhhh...where?"
Any place you choose will be the right place.
And then he logged off.
I got back to our ministry site that evening and stood at the kitchen sink, robotically scrubbing dried cheese from my dinner plate. And I thought back to my senior year of college, when my school's president tasked me with developing a business model for a fictional non-profit. I'd dreamt up a camp for intercity kids and college students, a place where they could come and rest while learning how to conserve and live off the land. While opening a camp was never my true desire, the passion to create a safe place was. I just didn't know what that looked like yet.
Joy came up next to me, and I lowered my dish.
"I think....I think God told me to open a B&B," I whispered, as if the mere act of stating it aloud cemented its truth.
I was immediately reminded why I love telling Joy these things before anyone else.
Her green eyes grew so big I thought they were literally about to fall out of her head, her musical voice hiking up two octaves as she reached for my wrist.
"Kayla! That's amazing! Ooh - I have goosebumps!" She pulled back her shirtsleeve, every hair standing on end. "You will be so good at that. Remember how you said you want to see palm trees from your window? And you love being in your home. It's perfect."
I act like God doesn't know I want to write a book, have a real job and move out of my mom's house. Like He doesn't hear me talk about wanting to temporarily move to Hawaii or California or travel to all 50 states with a boyfriend, carrying $4,000 of camera equipment in the back of a $1,000 car.
Turns out His dreams for me are the only ones bigger than my dreams for myself.
So.
The girl who barely has $1,000 in savings is gonna start a bed and breakfast.
Pray for me.