I walk into the Atlanta airport, wondering ‘How in the world am I going to find them?' I'm looking for 19 college-age students who have been told to arrive at between 2 and 4pm for "Training Camp” for their Real Life Exposure trip. I know after hanging out with me in Atlanta for two days, they are flying out for Swaziland and South Africa to spend a month in ministry. But that's it. So, again, how am I supposed to find them?

I start laughing as I walk into the massive airport atrium, marked by a large statue of a TRex and a scattering of army guys recently back from a tour. Right in front of me is a group of young adults, surrounded by backpacks, smiling and chatting with each other. I don't know if it's the backpacks, the characteristic Chaco's, or the air of “We don't know what we're doing right now, but we're ok with it” but I knew this was the group. After introducing myself as their “trainer” and trying to store away 19 names in a matter of five minutes, we parade out to the hotel shuttle.

I've been back from my Race 72 days. And completely on-the-go since then. Road trips and training camps, adjusting and readjusting. And now, it's official. This is the longest I have been living in one American town in the twelve months of my life. Thirteen days. Impressive, eh?

I feel like going off on some tangent about transition. About making life decisions. About how one small decision after another, one footstep after another lead somewhere new and completely different, yet so right. I feel like sharing my thoughts on a note that was handed to me on our flight back to the States: “Thank you Lord for transition, the most dangerous time of our lives.” And maybe I will sometime soon. For now, let me just share where those footsteps have led me. 

The town I've been living in for the last thirteen days - Gainesville, Georgia. The small decisions and continual footsteps that have gotten me to this point - there are so many.

Here's what I knew while making my “what's next?” decision:

Service, giving, loving - I want those to be things that define my life, not a year I experienced.

The World Race - I love the children I got to hold, the words I got to speak, the stories that became mine. I love the catalyst that this trip was in my life and want others to have the same chance to live in this catalyst.

Andi, Jimmy, Jess, Patrice, Ashley, Jenny, Jacob, Erin - These are all people who are serving here in the States. They are the ones who got me and my squad on the field, encouraged me in the hard times, answered phone calls at 3am, believed I would find something deeper in my walk of faith, and so much more. They are all staff at Adventures in Missions. 

So here I am. Gainesville, Georgia. My “next steps” have led me to an apprenticeship with AIM. It's so good to be here. To be around these people. To feel something reignited as I get to talk to college students about their heart to go out to the nations.

Sometimes I stop and think, “This is not normal.” Moving here less than two months after being home; not having a place to stay for two weeks, which has turned into five weeks; going back to a life of living off support. Slightly crazy, eh? (Apparently I hung around too many Canadians last year with all these ‘eh's' that keep popping up.)

Me and some O squad friends at the World Race Training Camp in May

Here's the sweet, amazing, mind-blowing thing. The Lord still provides. Here. Ministry still continues. Here. Even though there are still many people I want to see and sit down with and catch up on life with, there have been overflowing blessings of people to live life with in Gainesville. I have a place to stay for the five weeks I don't have my own home. And again, the Lord is bringing me people to partner with me financially in this ministry. It's so good!

As I'm working with AIM to get more college students out on the field, I'm also working to raise the financial support needed to live life in Gainesville. I would love, and need, more people to partner with me in this ministry. The “Support Me!” tab on the left side of the page will lead to a donation page. I'm looking for ministry partners to donate $25, $50 or $75 a month. Any and all support is greatly appreciated!

Where You  Go. “Where you go, I'll go. What you say, I'll say.” I think this is a good summary of what we all told the Lord as we left the States, quit our jobs, put our lives into backpacks and set out to the world. Continue to pray this prayer as we get back to the States, figure out what's next, unpack our backpacks and decide how we're going to continue to go, pray, say and surrender.

I Will Not Be Silent. You were born to worship. You were born to speak out the wonders of the Lord. You aren't here - wherever that is now - to be held back by fear.

Let Go Now. I have always loved the line “Take me by the corners of my soul and shake me.” Anyone else feel like that's happened this year? Anyone feel like it'll probably happen again? It's good stuff. Let go and let it happen.

The Anthem. “Wake up, child. It's your time to shine. You were born for such a time as this.”

Come Up Higher. I was in a bunk bed in Ukraine, sometime between 3 and 5am in the morning when these lyrics were written down. And then I got to hang around while the words were put to music. But when we all sing this song together…

Wavin Flag. I will never hear this song without thinking about the last couple of days in Ireland and the time we had together at Milamani before we all spread out over Kenya. There was an excitement and a passion and a call for freedom that we soon found out we needed.

God of Angel Armies. This was a reminder to me so many times throughout Africa. As we saw what a small fire in a slum could do to displace lives, or as squadmates got sick with malaria and typhoid and parasites, or… yeah, you all know what your lives held in Africa. But it was such a beautiful time to be reminded of the Lord's protection and provision.

You Will Not Relent. “It's all about a wedding to come. It's all about a God who's a lover.”

See me Through. “I'm a stranger here with You struggling inside to be a resting place for You. And I was made to be with You. I don't truly rest until I find my rest in You. So come and see me through.”

Awaken Us. “Awaken us. Let the light of Your countenance shine on us.”

Waka Waka. “Pick yourself up and dust yourself off and get back in the saddle. You're on the front line, everyone's watching. You know it's you as we're getting closer, this isn't over. The pressure's on, you feel it. But you got it all, believe it. When you fall, get up. If you fall, get up. Cause this is Africa. This is our motto: your time to shine don't wait in line. If you get down, get up. When you get down, get up.”

Come Walk with Me. “Come walk with me. Speak to my heart. What's deep in me only you know. Come walk with me.”

We Are Yours. “We are yours. We are a generation touched by your salvation, made by you and for your glory. You've marked us here to alter history.” So many times when I didn't have words to pray for the squad, when I felt burdened by everything that was going on, when sometimes it was overwhelming to think of how to specifically pray for each person, this is what I would pray and sing. Over and over again. We are yours. What else do we need but to know that we're His, that He's with us in the middle of it? This song screams a holy surrender to whatever He would have for us.

Finally I Surrender. “All I need is You to have Your way.”

I Saw What I Saw. “We've done what we've done and we can't erase it. We are what we are and it's more than enough. We have what we have but it's no substitution. Your pain has changed me, your dream inspires. Your face a memory, your hope a fire. Your courage asked me what I am made of and what I know of love.”

I Knew What I Was Getting Into. “And I see in you strength when all you see is your failure and all you feel is ashamed. I can see deeper than that. I know you better than that. You're only at the beginning. You've only just begun and I know where you are going. And all you can see in the moment is that your hurting. And all you can see in the moment is that you're aching. Just don't give up.”

Flags. “I don't know why the innocent fall while the monsters stand. I don't know why the little ones thirst but I know the last shall be first. I know the last shall be first.”

The Call. “Just because everything's changing doesn't mean it's never been this way before. Now we're back to the beginning. It's just a feeling and no one knows yet. But just because they can't feel it too, doesn't mean that you have to forget. Let your memories grow stronger and stronger til they're before your eyes. You'll come back when they call you. No need to say goodbye. You'll come back when they call you. No need to say goodbye.“

March On. I have to laugh and wonder at how much older most, if not all, of us look from pictures at training camp only 11 months ago. It's impossible to explain the time warp that this year has been, the amount of life and experience that was packed into a year. At the end of this thing, some of us are tired. Emotionally, physically, spiritually…or all of the above. But here's what sings to my soul about this squad, as we continue on in this journey that is about so much more than the Race. “We'll run with our aging bones. We will sing with our tired lungs. We'll march with our broken drums. March on to our broken drum.”

Hymn. My prayer throughout the race, and even now we move on. “If to distance, lives are scattered; If I sail to farthest seas, will you find and fervent gather til I only dwell in Thee. If I flee from greenest pastures, would you leave to look for me? Forfeit glory to come after, til I only dwell in Thee. If my heart has one ambition, if my soul one goal to seek, this my solitary vision, til I only dwell in Thee; that I only dwell in Thee.”

It's 11:30 at night. I've been lying in bed at the hostel for over an hour and haven't fallen asleep yet. Other than the 6:15 alarm that will be going off for my morning run, I'm ok with still being awake. I've been listening to my “O squad, near the end of the beginning” playlist. Mostly worship music, with some K'naan (Wavin' Flag song from last year's World Cup) and Shakira (This is Africa), it's a compilation of my theme music from this last year. Tonight there is peace in that.

Over the last two weeks, yes, we've still been doing ministry. A lot of times it's hard to keep my mind focused on what we're doing, who is in front of us. Sometimes in my head, I'm already at home, figuring out how to be back in the US, what my next step will be, how I will find the time to see everyone I want to. But then, there are times when the “ministry” right in front of me is more than enough. And I realize - this lifestyle is how I want to live my life.

Walking into the hospital of Hermano Pedro, where children suffering from cerebral palsy actually find a home, I see a little girl staring up at the ceiling and beaming from ear to ear. I remember past times working with special needs children and again wonder, “In the same way a blind person has a heightened sense of touch, do these children who are restricted physically have a freer view of the spiritual reality around us?” For a few hours I get to sit with these kids, offering a touch, a bottle of warm milk, or someone to laugh at.

Another day at the same hospital, I see a woman, obviously from the States, sitting across the room with a patient. This patient calls this hospital home. Her body has restricted the care that her family can offer her, and the chance to live at this hospital for free is a “blessing”. This woman from the States is in Antigua to learn Spanish or to see the country, but she chooses to spend her afternoons here with these Guatemalan women.

I want to live a life that thinks about others first.
I want to see people in their suffering and have the heart to sit with them.
I want to be ready in the middle of the tragedy to be around to offer healing, whether that's physically or spiritually.

It's hard to see this time come to a close, mostly because of reality of physically moving away from the people who have called these last 11 months “life” with me. The amazing, gifted, ridiculous, compassionate people of O squad have my heart. We have a time coming up, starting on Friday, to ‘debrief' with each other and celebrate this year. And after that, on May 12^th, we will be arriving back in the States. This trip ends soon. This lifestyle doesn't.

Now we're back to the beginning. It's just a feeling and no one knows yet. But just because they can't feel it too, doesn't mean that you have to forget. Let your memories grow stronger and stronger til they're before your eyes. Regina Spektor, The Call.

I roll over in my sleeping bag to turn off the alarm on my phone. 0345 on Easter morning. Feelings of joy in the middle of a fog of sleep. I dig my jacket out of my backpack, grab peanut butter, carrots and instant coffee out of my bedside table. I walk down a flight of cold stone steps from my hostel room at Mochila International Hostel in Antigua, as always, hoping I don't trip.

0400. Twenty four hour prayer started yesterday at 0900. I walk into the common room outside two of our rooms. BCox and BP are finishing the 2-4 shift. Worship music is playing from an ipod. BCOx is creating a background of written scripture on a sketch pad, soon to hold the words “He is Risen!” in large bold letters.

0515. I sneak into Beloved's dorm room. Waking up BP an hour after she's gone to bed, I look over and see that Kige is already stirring. “Are you going?” “Of course!” Next to her, I attack Jenny in her bed. These few weeks in Antigua have been sweet mornings of waking her up to return her “attacks of love” from our time as teammates. “Happy Easter!!”

0535. My backpack holds the equivalent of Easter basket necessities. We find our first obstacle of our Easter morning adventure. We're locked in the hostel. Poor Eric, the doorman, gets woken up to let us out.

0550. So much joy in an early morning! Seven of us are walking down a mostly deserted cobblestone road - me, Elle, BCox, BP, Jenny, Heather and Kige. The sun hasn't risen yet and there's still a mountain chill in the air. There's laughter and smiles all around, even when the only people we pass on our walk are three stern-faced policemen.

0615. We're at the top of a hill overlooking the city of Antigua. For the first time since we've been here, I notice the top of the volcano that borders the north side of Antigua's valley. The sun hasn't come up but our hike up the hill has warmed our bodies to a light sweat. There are three other people, obviously Americans, along with the always present policemen, are up here with us. During the day there are usually more people enjoying the view, taking pictures by the large cross that keeps watch over the city. We are attempting to get one of the policemen to take a picture of the seven of us. It doesn't work. “Are you wanting a picture of all of you?” asks one of the Americans. We later learn he's a photographer from San Francisco - Josh. Photos taken, complete with volcano, cross and Antigua as a background. We all sit down on a bench nearby. 

Here's our bench.

“Worship music?” The ipod and speakers are pulled out from the backpack. “Celebratory music” is the request. BP suggests a ‘frolicking song', You're the One by Enter the Worship Circle. We all sit on the bench for about five seconds. “There's a patch of grass inviting us to frolick in it” coming out of BP's mouth moves seven adults to a place of skipping and moving and flowing - frolicking, even - in the Lord's presence on a patch of grass, trying hard to ignore the police nearby. Is there a better, joyous, more celebratory way to ring in a Resurrection Sunday?

Not posing. This is just how we all ended up after our frolicking.

0630. Elle goes back to the Easter basket of a backpack and pulls out a few slices of bread. Also grabbing her Starbucks Thailand thermos, she rejoins our circle of seven. “Do we want to ask them to join us?” BP walks over to ask. Josh, Jarrod and Shantel join us for communion. Elle leads us in a prayer of thanksgiving, hope pouring from her voice. Two slices of bread are passed around with the thermos, worship music continuing to provide our background.

0650. Elle adds another piece of paper to an empty wine bottle. Notes of praise and thanksgiving written by most of us have been added to this “bottle of praise.” 

Elle putting songs in our "bottle of praise" next to the Easter basket backpack.

0700. Back on the bench, Jenny stands up and starts reading out Psalms, starting with 126. The sun is continuing to rise, striking the top of the volcano. Beautiful way to start a beautiful day.

Psalm 126. For O Squad!!

I have one of my "How in the world do I get to be here with these people doing this?!?!" moments.

Bottom row: Kige, Elle, Heather. Back row: Jenny, BCox, BP and me.

Starting the trek home...back to the hostel.

I'll be back home in the States on May 12th!! :D
Happy Easter, everyone!!

I can get lost in the doing. I can entertain myself easily, which sometimes just means filling up the hours of my day. Up for an hour already, what have I done of value? Returned some emails. Read blogs I put up months ago. Sat here with a toothbrush in my mouth for fifteen minutes because I didn't want to get up and rinse out my mouth. What is going to last from this time?

Here's what I want to be doing. Spending time on my face. Seeking the voice of my Daddy. Soaking in His presence. Sharing my heart and hope and concerns for those around me with Him. Searching for what He's saying about today. I want to be in that place no matter what's going on around me. I want to exercise my mind to be constantly focused on Him and what He's doing in the world around me. And then I want to join in with that.

That we should establish ourselves in a sense of God's Presence, by continually conversing with Him.
That it was a shameful thing to quit His conversation, to think of trifles and fooleries.
That we should feed and nourish our souls with high notions of God; which would yield us great joy in being devoted to Him. That we ought to quicken, to enliven, our faith.
That it was lamentable we had so little; and that instead of taking faith for the rule of their conduct, men amused themselves with trivial devotions, which changed daily.
…First Conversation, Brother Lawrence, Practicing the Presence of God…

These are just the random thoughts in my head as I sit here at a hostel in Antigua while the rest of the teams begin to get up. I just walked in the room to wake up Jenny for our run. Oh the joy of living with people who are constantly seeking the face of the Lord as well. She was already awake, reading Psalms 91. So in the middle of the "doing" I get snippets of what the Lord is saying. And then before she rolls out of bed and we both pull on our running shoes, "I want to read Isaiah 61." Good morning. Scattered thoughts. Excited for what the rest of the day holds.

Normal life is...
Getting baby wipes out of my backpack and laughing at the fact the label is in Thai and the baby on the package is Asian.
Pulling on a friends' jacket and finding a 50 cent euro piece in the pocket.
Asking someone where they got their earrings or shirt and waiting as they deliberate “Asia. No, Africa. Tanzania? No, Kenya.”
Washing dishes without running water or washing clothes by hand. 
Arriving at a church or crusade and laughing at the look on a team leaders face, because it's obviously the look of “Ok, who's going to preach the sermon? Or give the testimony? Or explain the drama in the next 60 seconds?”
Falling completely in love with nine girls living at “Mi Casa” orphanage in three days and tearing up when we have to leave.
Frequently laughing at how little time we've known each other since this Race started, and how hard it now is to imagine life without each other.
Praying for each other with greater passion that I remember having in prayer in years.
Transitioning May 12^th.
Not so “normal” right now.

A lot of my thoughts these last few weeks have been about

                             “re-entry”

                                          or the transition back home

                                                            or reverse culture shock

                                                                             or whatever you want to call it.

Thoughts have definitely also been full of lots of questions. Good questions. A lot of questions I don't have the answer for right now, but I'm ok with that.

Some of them are simple.
When will I get to see everyone I've been missing?
What is my reaction going to be when I get to the airport in Montgomery?
What's the first thing I want to eat when I get back home?
What will it be like to drive my car? How soon will I go for a swim at the Nat?
What's it going to be like to sleep in a bed or room by myself?
When will I get to hear everyone's stories about their life over the last year?

Some of them are not so simple.
How do I share everything that I've experienced this year?
How do I remember the names of everyone I've met?
How do I share everything that the Lord has taught me this year?
How can I possibly convey the truth I've found in my faith this year?
How do I remember the moments of clarity and passion?
How do I keep the joy I've found in the fight, in the suffering?
How do I share the love I've felt for a Ukrainian orphan without being able to understand a word of what she ever said?
How do I talk about the effects of a fire in the middle of Southlands slum in Nairobi?
How do I share the day-to-day moments of life in a team?
How do I fully share what the Lord has taught me and allowed me to experience?

Here's what I know.
I know the Lord gave me the gift of living life with O squad for 11 months.
I know that I will continue to learn lessons from this year long after I get home.
I know that it's been a privilege to just be with all the people we've met this year.
I know I've found more hope this year.
I know freedom has been a huge theme of this year.
I know there's my faith is more a reality now than it has been in the past.
I know I've made friends who will be around for a lifetime.
I know I've experienced some of the hardest things of my life this year.
I know I've celebrated and laughed.
I know I'm grateful for this Race with these people.