It’s Thanksgiving, and you are now going to hear an unacceptably long blog all about the people, memories, and places I’m thankful for.
So now that you’re here, grab your turkey and second helping of green bean casserole - welcome aboard the Feel Train, next destination: Feelsland.
I’m thankful for the ways God is stretching me and uncovering things I’ve tried to hide away. He’s making me a better human, and I just hope that the growth never ends. Every time I fall down, learn a lesson and get back up, I don’t ever seem to remember exactly how hard I fell to get to a place of humility – I just remember how much better I feel once I’ve gotten back up, a little stronger, a little more vulnerable, a little wiser.
A girl working in our ministry with us invited our team out to dinner a few nights ago, and she kicked off the conversation with me by commenting on my tattoos.
“Are those tattoos?”
I nod, smile. Proud.
She pulls her eyebrows together so tight she basically gives herself a two-second unibrow.
“You got those before you were saved, yah?”
“Nope, I got them this morning.”
The look she gives me could freeze ice in July.
Internally, I gave her an eye roll that would have registered at 8.2 on the Richter scale, but as I’m venting about it to the team later, God calls me in for a time-out.
Is she loud, a little rude, and abrupt? Yah, she is. Do I understand her and what she believes? Nope.
I feel God saying to me, “Alright, so she’s grating, and has a few bats in the belfry. But you can be a few screws short of a working lightbulb, too, and I love you. Have some grace.”
I’m thankful for the in-between moments, the funny situations and conversations that will never be significant enough to write a blog about, but are the bricks of the house that I store my World Race memories in. These are moments when all you can say to yourself is, “Yah…I am on the World Race.”
It’s Tuesday morning, and I crawl out of our cave of the bedroom onto our balcony, breakfast in hand, taking my place balanced on a rail overlooking our hotel compound.
“What’s that?”
I look to my right and see another squad-mate reading two rooms down.
“Apple and pickle baby food,” I reply, pressing the curvature of my plastic spoon against the roof of my mouth and pulling it out with a loud pop.
Her face contorts in horror.
I grin.
I am on the World Race.
It’s Tuesday night, and Lindsay is laying sprawled on a mountain of donated clothes inside one of the camp’s storage containers, newly dressed in a dark blue onesie. “I want to go to the bathroom, but I don’t want to go alone.”
“I’ll walk with you,” I volunteer, and we venture outside to the cleanest bathroom stall on the property – a grove of olive trees.
“Sing Sk8ter Boi to me,” she commands and I throw the light from my headlamp in the opposite direction, trying to figure out how the heck she’s gonna pee in a full body suit.
“He’s just a boy, she’s just a girl, could not make it any more obvious…guitar solo!...nah, nah, nah nah…”
I am on the World Race.
It’s Thursday night, we’ve been on the same bus for ten hours and have been travelling for 25. Aubrey and I can’t find any cool things outside to comment on and our conversation has dissolved into a bought of motion sickness and an ever-expanding vocabulary of swear words.
“Make it or break it: a guy who has no thumbs?”
“Break it.”
“He has a tattoo of his grandma on the side of his neck.”
“Like…is it good?”
“It’s like a jail tattoo. He’s been to jail.”
“Yah…break it.”
“Make it or break it: He only has body hair on one half of his body, has six nipples, loves Nicholas Cage, owns every Nickleback CD and did time for property arson.”
“Should I maybe try and draw this guy?”
I am on the World Race.
Finally, and most importantly, I’m thankful for my team.
I’m thankful for Taylor, and for her unspeakable boldness to sign up for a $17,000 mission trip while still young in her faith and trying to figure out how to serve God best. She has a sweetness that endears you to her almost instantly, and her heart for little children puts Christ’s compassion on display like a billboard in Times Square.
I’m thankful for Emily, who is probably the most steady, stable person I know. She has an elegance to her that reminds me of ladies in old-time black and white movies; she always carries herself like royalty, but would make herself available to you at any moment, no matter when or why. If our team is a book, Emily is the gold-lined binding, gently yet firmly holding all of the pages and stories together.
I’m thankful for Joy, the most generous person I’ve ever met, and her melodic voice that is always on the side of the broken and the oppressed. She carries an apple around in her backpack every day, in case a beggar approaches her and holds out their hand. Any time one of us gets sick or hungry, she is on her feet, bringing us essential oils, warmer clothes, homemade food, or giving us massages.
I’m thankful for Tabitha, who is teaching me that good leadership often looks like walking alongside of someone, not standing over them. I never feel managed by her, but I always feel safe. Tabitha likes to talk about the fact that one day, somehow, she's change the world. A lot of people say that, but I look at her life and know that she absolutely will.
I’m thankful for Felicia, and her confidence that inspires the people around here to love harder, live better, and try again. She is a pro at taking an idea or a suggestion and making it a reality. Where most people hear something interesting and simply comment on it, she sets the gears in motion and makes things happen.
Furthermore, Felicia never gives up when she wants something, and for months she's asked me to end a blog with "Felicia Pena is awesome." It's also about time I ended this blog and let you get back to the Macy's parade.
It's unbelievable to me that we are beginning month four in just a few short days. My Race is flying by. There's a lot over my shoulder to be thankful for, and I'm motivated in knowing that there will only be more adventure, more ministry, more memories.
Loving having you all along for the ride. Happy Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for you.
P.S. - Felicia Pena is awesome.