It dawned on me like the 4th of July shooting firecrackers over an open field.
It was obvious, loud and very beautiful.
It’s time to kill the Racer in me.
It felt like a gong going off in my head, resonating loudly over a loud speaker.
Kill the racer.
Kill the racer.
Kill the racer.
Scary thought. Because you see, the World Racer in me is a security blanket.
But it’s what I did.
Not who I am.
I sat in the car and mulled this thought over. If I shed this title, this cloak of safety, what would happen?
Would the exposure that was eminent be worth it?
Would the girl who lies beneath be as cool as the Racer she once was?
Or maybe not.
Who really cares?
Life’s about taking risks, getting messy, even hurt, then dusting it off and rising above it.
More often than not I feel like an apple that’s bobbing in the water, being dunked and re-dunked, never fully taking a deep breath in. But with each dunk, each tear streaming down my face, I realize who I am. I dig in deeper to what God has in store for me and I try my best to relish in the present.
Lately there’s been a shift. There’s been this recognition that I’m the only one who moves forward in this chess game of life. However cliché that might sound.
I don’t think it’s weakness to say it’s intimidating. I don’t think it’s a disappointment to say being stateside sucks a lot of days. I don’t discount myself or condemn my feelings.
I hate the whole dang process and sometimes loathe words said for the sake of saying them.
But I get it. The journey is the destination.
Some really wise team leader shared that bit of wisdom with me and it stuck.
Because the journey is shaping me.
No matter how much it aches or how incredibly joyful it is, it’s the Journey, the Story, that refines, shapes and remolds who I am.
The Father’s a good Tour Guide, I’m just a feisty tourist.
Today heaven got another angel. This week last year while I was in the Philippines, my precious granddad went to see Jesus. Last night, his brother in law traveled to those pearly gates and all of heaven rejoiced that they got to meet Uncle Joe.
A man, a friend, a husband, a dad and a mentor. He was a great guy. An incredible doctor and someone who constantly made me laugh. His old school ways, his generous heart, his willingness to support me and my crazy dreams. Wow, all of it. So good, so humbling. He’ll be so dearly missed. And there’s a hole in my heart the size of Texas as I think about him and granddad sitting in their chairs at my farm, talking about the old days, telling us how proud they are of who we are and what we are becoming.
They were life speakers, encouragers and the ultimate empowerers. Is that word? Meh, it is today.
And it’s through this griefy feeling that I’m realizing the rebirth, the gift of life, and the reason I’m here. We’re created for destiny, for purpose, for legacy. And as I reminisce of my beloved family, I realize what a legacy they’ve left and there’s a quiet peace that is settling over my heart.
Grief is like life, there are good days and bad. Laughs and memories, tears and trials.
But a life lived full out is so rich and there’s so much to be celebrated.
So I choose to shed my title.
I’m no longer a World Racer.
In a sense, I’m dashing to pieces the grip that safety net had on me.
I’m so grateful for that year and I pray I’ll never forget it. But it’s time to kill the identity that’s attaching me to it.
My good friend came in to see me from Guatemala and as we chatted I asked her what she’s learning. And she told me she’s learning about the Father’s heart and it’s blowing her mind. So I choose Him again and again and again. I choose to dwell as His Daughter. Not as a Racer, not as a missionary, not as anything but as a Child of the King of Kings. As I dwell and really rest, in its purest form, I know He’s going to fill me to overflowing and from there, who knows what will happen.
I can’t wait.